NationStates Jolt Archive

Northern Sector

Major Bugeand pushed past the oak doors of the ages old church. Inside, dead bodies were everywhere. They littered the pews, they littered the aisles, and there were even a few on the altar. The civil war in Estonavia had killed over 300,000 people, disgusting the whole region,even the cold-hearted nation of Estovakia, its fascist neighbor. Estovakia and its allied country Stoczania thereby took it upon themselves to send 96,000 troops into the country, one of which was him. It was odd for Estovakia to do so under such charitable purposes, but who said fascist nations aren't charitable?

Of course Estovakia helped start the war in the first place. The major couldn't stop grinning, despite the macbre background. Ever since Estovakia, as well as the Stovakian Union, Estovania, and Stovakistan sent arms to idealogically similar factions, the country tore itself apart in a brutal civil war. Perhaps their might be another penninsular war if this gets fubared. The Stovakian Penninsula had many wars before. And each time, the penninsula was never the same.

The major's ruminations was stopped by the arrival of a rather attractive female in civilian garb holding a press pass signifying she was of the state news agency.

"Hi, I'm Miss Willis and I received permission to start filming. This looks as good as any place to film, so if you don't mind, we'd like to film this mess. Blood and gore always garner higher ratings."

As good as any place to film? Major Bugeand winced. 30 years ago he would have puked his stomach out at what he'd seen, or even just a fraction. Since, then he'd seen some blood while serving in the French Foreign Legion, before he had moved to Estovakia. Before I had gray in my hair the major thought before he regained the sense of his surroundings.

"Who's orders do you have, miss?" the major asked. He didn't know any general who would risk getting in trouble for such graphic depictions of violence.

"Major General Heidelmann himself," she said handing over a slip of paper.

Oh yeah, that one. "Hmph. Well orders are orders, Miss Willis. I guess you could go on ahead.

"Much obliged, Major. Roalf? Roalf? Where are you?" the reporter called to a stocky, bulbous cameraman. Set up in the corner over there," she said pointing to her right. She then turned back to the Major. "Where are you from? Paris?"

61% of the country was foreign-born, thanks to open immigration. (When the fascist government came to power, it initiated open immigration to create a fascist haven for fascists from all corners of the globe.) It was not uncommon to run into a non-native; in a matter a fact, it was more common.

"Bordeaux actually," the Major replied.

"You still retain an accent," the reporter replied. "I'm curious, would you care if we talk more about yourself over dinner?"

"As soon as my work day is over, sure."

"Alright then," she smiled "see you later then."

The major left the church. Inside he could hear the fast-paced talking of a reporter hot on the case.

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

Central Sector

Sergeant Alvarado walked down a dirt road in the center of a small village not worthy of a name on the map. As part of the vanguard, his squad was one of the ones that had to keep their mouths shut and their eyes wide. They had gone through pro-Estovakian areas before, but as they got closer to the central part of Estonavia, other factions were around and that just made things more difficult.

"I have a cow like that at home," said Private Gormley pointing to a fenced in area.

"Don't call your mother names like that; it's not nice," teased Corporal Suslak.

"Hey guys check out that hottie," Corproal Suslack said looking at a woman, probably a teenager.

Alvarado turned his head. She definately was young and definately was pretty. Under different circumstances, for example, a cafe in Stovakgrad, he might have asked her out, maybe, if was one or two years younger. However under the current circumstances...

"Keep your eyes sharp and your ears open. I don't want to lay in a ditch because you guys we're thinking with your pants," Alvarado barked.

"Me either, Sarge, but I would like to lay her," the Corporal wittily stated. This comment drew a a chorus of laughter from the rest of the squad until a bullet tore through the air.

Sergeant Alvarado dropped to the ground, as did the rest of the squad. One however, was covered in red.

"Shit! I've been hit! I don't no where it came from Sarge!" Corproal Suslak said grasping a wound in his leg that was bleeding heavily. Alvarado got up and grabbed the corporal by the collar before rushing behind a nearby house.

"Medic! He's been hit!" Corporal Jackson, the squad's medic, came rushing. he examined the wound quickly. "He's bleeding out, sir. I think it hit an artery."

"Can you clamp it?" the Sergeant replied.

"Don't let me die, Sarge. Don't let me die!" the Corporal yelled.

A second bullet rang out. It kicked up dirt but this time no one was hurt.

"I saw where it came from sir," a private yelled. "It's coming from a barn up ahead!"

Alvarado had difficulty hearing what the private said on account that an attack helicopter, Estovakian, flew overhead.

His radioman yelled into the satcom radio. "Papa bear this is Alpha-Two squad, sector golf-hotel two-three. Taking sniper fire from a red barnyard. Get the attack chopper overhead to kill those bastards, damnit!"

The attack helicopter circled around and doubled back they way it came. This time however, it fired its 20mm cannon into the barnyard, not only until the barnyard was filled with holes, but until it collapsed and burned from some flammables inside.

It was a glorious moment until the air became tinged with the smell of burning flesh. He felt a pang of guilt that he was responsible for somebody's death, until he noticed that Corporal Suslek was dead in which case, he just avenged his death. He didn't feel any better though.

After all, war is hell.

OOC: Anybody could join and help (or not help if you so choose) peacekeep the country. it is a centrally located nation landlocked on a peninsula, and thus will be primarily an air and land RP. You could help peacekeep, send supplies, and other good stuff, or if you choose you could gun smuggle, incite the civil war more, back a certain faction, create a new faction, etc.

ooc: Is there a Communist faction?

ooc: Is there a Communist faction?

As the nearby country of Estovania is socialist with strong communist support, the pro-Estovanian faction in the country would be the closest thing to a communist faction. Of course you can always go into the country and make your own.

A map may help explain the situation a little better:

Map of the Stovakian Penninsula:

http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/estovakiapenninnew1a.bmp
(The central gray country is Estonavia)

Occupied territory so far:

http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/invasion1.bmp

ooc: Gotcha.

IC: NEW FUKUOKA, H-TOWN TEJAS

Chairman Ryouta Nagaraku scanned a news article about the Stovakian peninsula.
"Damn!" he said, "All these countries sound the same! Which one's in the civil war again?"
"Estovania, I think," Foreign Minister Mikel Aritza said.
"It's Estonavia, stupid," Intelligence Minister Diego D'Cruze said.
"Well, like Ryouta said, they all sound the same!" Mikel said.
"So, are any socalists in there?" Ryouta asked.
"Yeah, some pro-Estovanians. Estovania's socialist and stuff," Mikel said.
"Well, do we want an Estovanian satellite?" Diego said.
"No," Ryouta said, "Either a Tejano satellite or nobody's satellite, that's how it's got to go. And I'd prefer a Tejano satellite. Diego!"
"Yes, Chairman?" Diego said.
"Start on organizing a faction of our own," Ryouta said, "I'll talk to Saki about inserting some troops to help them."

ooc: Gotcha.

IC: NEW FUKUOKA, H-TOWN TEJAS

Chairman Ryouta Nagaraku scanned a news article about the Stovakian peninsula.
"Damn!" he said, "All these countries sound the same! Which one's in the civil war again?"
"Estovania, I think," Foreign Minister Mikel Aritza said.
"It's Estonavia, stupid," Intelligence Minister Diego D'Cruze said.
"Well, like Ryouta said, they all sound the same!" Mikel said.
"So, are any socalists in there?" Ryouta asked.
"Yeah, some pro-Estovanians. Estovania's socialist and stuff," Mikel said.
"Well, do we want an Estovanian satellite?" Diego said.
"No," Ryouta said, "Either a Tejano satellite or nobody's satellite, that's how it's got to go. And I'd prefer a Tejano satellite. Diego!"
"Yes, Chairman?" Diego said.
"Start on organizing a faction of our own," Ryouta said, "I'll talk to Saki about inserting some troops to help them."

OOC: I know they sound similar, but since the Stovakian Penninsula is loosely based off the Balkan penninsula with countries that, at least to me, are similar to each other, the Stovakian Peninsula is likewise.

Southern Sector

As Colonel Zeitel stared southward, he knew Estovakia's ally Stoczania had 10,000 troops in the country, cooperating with Estovakia in putting an ned to the madness. Nonetheless he put on NV Goggles, as well as the rest of the platoon, and headed southward. He was part of the elite Black Guard unit, and his mission was to blow up an enemy cache of arms 10km south.

So far the mission was without any problems. The group hadn't encountered anything besides two sentries, which were quickly put out of their misery. As soon as they would get to the depot, they'd set charges and blow the whole thing sky high.

Zeitel carefully moved through brush and foliage until he was within sight. Two of his soldiers with silenced sniper rifles crept silently until they could peg the sentries. When they got two sentries, a third sentry noticed what was going on and rushed for the alarm. Zeitel took his G36 and shot the third sentry, though the sound alerted the other personnel anyway.

Zeitel didn't care, and his men were completely prepared for what was to happen next. As the rebels poured out of the depot one or two at a time, his men mowed them down with machine guns, assault rifles, and pistol rounds. The ones that lingered back didn't fair any better as those with submachine guns carefully took out the remaining troops while the snipers made sure no one as left alive.

Once the fighting stopped, Zetiel took a look inside the crates. Dozens of clips of magazines, missles, and M-16 assault rifles were found in the various crates, signifying that the rebels were supplied by Stovakistan. The demolition teams made sure to wire almost eveyr crate and strategic area inside the warehouse that made up the depot and wired it to blow. A

s soon as Zeitel's men evacuated, they demolition team blew the depot up. The mission proceeded like clockwork, exactly the way Zeitel like it.

2 main questions:-
1, is there a Corporate Faction, by this i mean a faction controled by a MegaCorporation or a Group of Corporations and if so did they keep quiet or are they more then happy to try and take over.
2, would they be allowed to get support from an outsider (eg weapons delivered to them.)

Exponent will send in 80 elite Honor Guard soldiers via helicopter to capture the leaders of the communist faction.

2 main questions:-
1, is there a Corporate Faction, by this i mean a faction controled by a MegaCorporation or a Group of Corporations and if so did they keep quiet or are they more then happy to try and take over.
2, would they be allowed to get support from an outsider (eg weapons delivered to them.)

1. No, since the country is somewhat of a backwards nation with no major corporations, the fighting is mostly done by different ethnic groups fighting and squabbling, not business entities. It's economy is controled by the four major countries on the peninsula and thus it is the rog doll or marionette of the peninsula, and thus it never could develop its own major businesses.

2. Any group could supply weapons, provided you don't do it really openly (i.e. don't in big letters with a jumbotron explain to the world what you plan to exactly do)

Exponent will send in 80 elite Honor Guard soldiers via helicopter to capture the leaders of the communist faction.

Estovakia thanks you for your efforts. Estovakia is anti-communist and supports all help in getting rid of the red menace.

Central Sector

Sergeant Alvarado looked around. He had finally reached a sizeable town worthy of a name on a map. The town of Kozlice, population 1,500, held a strategic road junction that needed to be taken. It was quiet but as soon as the Estovakian troops arrived, fighting began to break out.

"See that building over there?" Alvarado asked his men. "I want fire team green to lay cover fire. Fire team red and I will attack from the right flank. Let's go!" Sergeant Alvarado ordered his men.

Rebels popped in and out of houses, as other squads began engaging the enemey. Sergeant Alvarado watched carefully as he approached a large gray-brick building that looked rather ominous. It was a three-story building with a basement and Sergeant Alvarado noted the basement entrance before going around to the right of the building and opening a side door.

Two rebels with FN-FALs opened fire as he did so but the sergeant's Glock-18 put them down quickly. A private followed next as well as a corporal.

Alvardo looked in all the rooms. Looks like we caught them with their pants down. In each room on the first floor, large stores of guns, ammunition, drugs, computers, designer jeans, and diamonds were stored in large wooden shipping crates. When his men had quickly elimanated all of the men on the first floor, they made it up to the second floor. On the second floor they found many small rooms with bunks inside, obviously for the rebels. The third floor contained a few rebels.

Alvarado had just made it up the stairs when a bullet caught him and sent him tumbling down a few steps. "Oh crap! I've been hit!" On checking the wound, Alvarado found that his ballistic vest had stopped the bullets. Lucky me he thought to himself. He got up again disregarding the pain he was in and continued. His men quickly nailed the rebel bastards in the head and content that all that remained were empty cardboard boxes, he headed back downstairs again.

He exited the building and went around toward the opening to the basement. As soon as he opened the door a foul stench blasted outward, as if glad to be free from its infernal dungeon. Alvarado carefully went down the stairs one by one, each stair creaking loudly so as to give notice to every guard in the world that he was coming down. He half-expected a rebel to bolt in front of him and shoot him, or an explosive to go off in his face, but he made it down to the dusty bottom unharmed.

It didn't take him long to realize what the smell was. Several corpses, including some that were bloated and obviously down their for a long time were stacked up like driftwood not far from the entrance. Deeper inside he found more disturbing findings. Several chained people, severely beaten and bruised had their ankles and hands chained to the walls, some wearing uniforms of a regional faction, others wearing nothing so as to expose their skeleton-like bodies. Beyond them were several female prisoners ranging from teenage years to what he figured were early forties, though the people were so emaciated that they could have been any age. Beyond them were the most disturbing: children as young as four were chained to the floor in god only knows what kind of filth, for some only-god-knows purpose.

Several of the men behind Alvarado had puked already.

Alvarado quickly rushed to his radioman. "We need medevacs NOW!!! This is no game! We have at least two dozen critically wounded."

Alvarado had waited long enough for international assistance to come to Estonavia. He was glad after what he saw that Estovakia had decided to help and that he could get involved personally. He'd make whatever bastards did what happened pay, and perhaps give them a taste of thei own medicine.

Battle Statistics: Assault on Kozlice

Civilians liberated: 1,457
Civilians killed: 12
Civilians missing: 8

Rebels killed: ~200-250
Rebels wounded: ~50-75
Rebels captured: 103

Estovakians killed: 0
Estovakians wounded: 31
Estovakians missing: 1

Weapons captured:

AK-47/AKM: 1000
FN-FAL: 2220
G3: 110
RPG-7: 150
Carl Gustav 82: 2
Stinger launcher: 28
SVD: 10
PSG-1: 1
TT-33: 50

Misc small arms (including regionally produced arms: ~3,000

Assets captured (total estimated value based on market price):

14 civilian vehicles (10 trucks, 4 cars)

Gold: $250,000
Platnium: $12,750
Designer clothes: $10,500
Designer clothes (counterfit): $22,755
Diamonds: $55,000
Computers: $30,000
Laptops: $12,000
Narcotics: $1.5 million
Weapons: $1.2 million (including other findings mot mentioned in the official report)

Human slaves: ~$2 million
(note: All slaves will be freed, given medical attention, and brought to Estovakia to receive further help).

Jason looked round, his Merc Team, the Black Hand, were busy loading up the Plane with supplys and weapons. It had been a while since the black hand had been given a job and who ever it was hireing them seemed to have the cash to hire one of the best Merc teams in the Shadow runners Corporation. It was could out in the open, his team had been stationed in Corpenia, one of the new regions in the southern Land. It was colder down here then he was use to, but you didnt argue.

"so boss, where we heading to?" a female voice spoke behind him. He turned to face them, it was Sasha, his 2nd in command and Major of the 2nd Battalion. She was tall, with short blue hair, he always thought that the blue hair made her an easy target. She got the nick name Luck due to the amount of times she gets shot at. no one had ever hit her so far.

"Estonavia, a region within the Stovakian Penninsula i think. A civil war blew up in the peoples faces." Jason replyed, he pulled a cigarette packet from his brest pocket, tapping the bottom of the of the packet and pulling a cigarette out and placing it into his mouth and lighting it. he took a deep drag on it and exhaled a plum of smoke.

"em....and why are we going?" she asked looking at him, her deep blue eyes seemed to clash with her hair he noticed.

"no idea, the report i got told us we would be told when we arrived. Who ever it has alot of power since they are making a blind path for us, hence the time frame we have to stick to. Acording to the file who ever it is who hired us has the power to make it so that airdefence along our flight path go's down for a while. Tho i dont think it will be that easy...jsut a pitty we're flying in one of them Massive death traps." he pointed at the HTS-02C, a massive plane that was only recently bought by the Corporate Airforce. The Shadow runners corporation had alot of power and managed to get there hands on one.

"grate so we're going in blind right?" she asked, she wasnt happy about it.

"yep all 1,152 of us" he replyed.

"only to battlions hey.....this is going to be fun" she sighed, saluted and wondered off, shouting orders at people and venting her anger. He knew when ever she go like this it was best to stay clear of her.


OOC: ya i dont mind if it was a faction of yours who hired these people or if you want to make my own faction.

OOC: ya i dont mind if it was a faction of yours who hired these people or if you want to make my own faction.

OOC: Neither do I. If you want to be hired by anyone of the factions, just let me know. Likewise, if you want to form your own faction i guess it'd be easy since much of the populace is poor and without national identity and could easily be swayed to join a corporate state.

OOC: What are the major cities here, and where would my men find a scuffle with some commies

OOC:
- I'm tempted to get involved in this, but I'd be kinda limited in the troops I could deploy. Since I'd intend to work with the Estovakian troops (if possible) that probably wouldn't be an issue. However, before I possibly get involved here, I'd like some more details:

Basic geography of the region, in terms of hilly, heavily forested, steppe-country, what?
Basic architecture types - whitewashed buildings a'la some Balkan villages, or we talking more modern construction being the more widespread kinda thing?
All factions involved at present time and if they affiliate with a particular ethnic group or not - in addition, a list of ethnic groups would be great
What role you'd want my forces to play - assist in occupation of the region or pacification? When Russkyan troops do peacekeeping, it just means their selector switches are on "Safe" more often than "Semiautomatic."

As to strategic reasoning, suppose I could always call it one Socialist country helping out another.

Edit: Come to think of it, it may be more efficient just to give me a sector to operate in and tell me what your commanders would like to see done there. And this may all become null-and-void, thanks to what just cropped up not two minutes ago. Damned time constraints.

I'd like to provide a contingent to take part in peacekeeping operations. All I would need is an area of operations for my forces.

OOC: i'll have it one of my corporations is funding this little....mission, just not useing the Corporate Security force (my main military).

I'll just post a little background I made a long time ago.

Estonavia is also a central nation and critical nation in the ongoing strife [on the Stovakian Peninsula]. While it tries to remain neutral, billions of dollars have been funneled in by Estovakia, Estovania, Stovakistan, and The Stovakian Union, as well as allied nations of each. The people are heavily polarized and separated between themselves and ongoing violence in the country between ethnic and pro-Stovakistanis [Stovakistan], Estovakians [Estovakia], Estovanians [Estovania], Stovakians [Stovakian Union], and hardcore nationalists have plunged the nation into a civil war. The region is the most volatile on the whole peninsula and since no clear winner has emerged, the violence will only continue.

Terrain: Very hilly with some mountains, some small rivers and many streams, a few smalls forests.

Architectural: I guess you can say somewhat Balkan-like with the whitewashed buildings. There are also grey-brick buildings, stone houses, some stone streets although few and only found in major and ancient towns and cities. Some asphalt roads, although generally uncommon except for major roads and highways. Many Soviet-like apartment buildings (i.e. the ones the Soviets mass produced during the Cold War for all Warsaw-Pact nations), and some (like the warlords and kingpins) are mansions made out of a variety of expensive brick, stone, and other material.

While the country itself is poor: (many don't have plumbing or electricity, many villages have a single telephone, and some still use the telegraph!) with all the money poured into the country in the forms of precious metals, goods, narcotics, weapons, and people, it is a country rich with material. Therefore while the country is resource-poor, it is material-rich.

The question comes as to which sides and what you plan to do based on the background. The Estovakian government is really doing this as a sort of PR campaign to further its righteousness over the other three main nations on the peninsula (they'll never admit it though), although the people and soldiers are doing it for humanitarian reasons. the factions fighting are fighting for governmental and ethnic reasons, while the leaders may or may not being sending men to fight for political purposes

Thus the choice falls into three realms. You could:

1. Back the Estovakians. The Estovakian government, a fascist nation, sees the opportunity as a chance to increase its power and thus break the precarious balance of power on the peninsula in its favor. Usually backing a fascist nation does not bode well with most nations, however, Estovakia is the most prepared nation to enforce and stabilize the country and pull it out of its civil war.

2. Back another faction: Backing another faction would most likely result in more combat. As the Estovakians move from west to east they will engage all hostile factions. As it stands, the Estovakian military can easily crush all of the factions, being held up only by time, speed, and logistical reasons. Backing another faction with arms, ammo, money, people, etc. will lead to a more protracted fight. You might win but a heavy cost of life, especially civilian, might ensue.

3. Loot and pillage: Take the "who gives a damn" approach. Go in to "peacekeep" but steal the billions of dollars of goods. Banks are vulnerable, factional headquarters and depots contain loads of military hardware sitting around because of logistical problems or a lack of trained personnel, assets flutter around a huge black market created by a lack of governmental presence, and if you're into the kidnapping approach, nobody'll miss a few hundred people with a war going on. The people don't win at all, the fighting won't necessarily stop, but you'll be millions of dollars richer.

As you could see neither side is perfect and every side has its pros and cons. The Estovakians want to stop the war and have the resources to do so, but they're partly responsible for the war in the first place. The factions and the questionable men that lead them continue the war but would create governments other than fascist ones if they win and would have good relations with your country. The looters and gunsmugglers supply the war, but you'll get no trouble with them if you decide to join in on the feast.

3 Exponent choppers began flying in low over a small village reported to house a number of communist rebels. The chain guns on the choppers lit up everything on the ground. Ropes flew from the sides of the choppers, and about 30 Honor Guards slid out of them, 10 in each helo. The men took cover behind some cars and other thinks. One threw a grenade into a nearby building. Enemy ak fire filled the streets. "I'm hit!" a soldier yelled. "Fuck, get Brownsword a medic, hes hit bad" the commander yelled. In a few minutes, the ak fire stopped. Cpl Brownsword was dead. 2 other men were wounded. "Alright men, loot and light, lets go" the commander shouted. The men knew exactly what to do, after all, they had done it numerous times back in their own civil war. 5 men went around and gathered all the villagers. there was about 20 remaining. 2 of the men in the squad were trained as interrogators. They began the questions. The rest of the group smashed into the houses, taking anything of value. Necklaces, money, even chickens. When they were done looting, every building in the town was torched. Finally, the villagers were herded into a ditch, and machine gunned to death, leaving no evidence that Exponent troops were ever there. The scene was reported to other peacekeeping troops as a communist massacre on the village, and Cobra team was just to late to help

The Aequatian Republic, having monitored the growing situation within the troubled nation of Estovakia, would be willing to deploy a brigade-sized element to fulfill a peacekeeping operation in support of the Estovakian government.

1st Brigade, 10th Infantry Division (4,581 Personnel)
- 1st Brigade Headquarters Detachment (2 Centurion C4IV, 4 Wolf HMMWV; 54 Personnel)
- 31st Predator Reconnaissance Detachment (3 RQ-9A Predator C UAV, 3 Centurion C4IV, 2 Wolf HMMWV; 25 Personnel)
1-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
2-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
3-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
1-10th Armoured Battalion (48 M1 Panther MBT; 246 Personnel)
1-10th Combat Engineer Battalion (12 CEV Stallion, 12 AVLB Alligator; 486 Personnel)
1-10th Indirect-fire Gun Support Battalion (18 Cerberus SPG, 12 Crusader FISTV; 300 Personnel)
1-10th Air Defence Battalion (36 Cyclone ADV, 660 Personnel)
1-10th Forward Support Battalion (434 Personnel)

10th Special Combat Applications Regiment (1,000 Personnel)
- 10th Headquarters Detachment (2 Centurion C4IV, 4 Wolf HMMWV; 54 Personnel)
- 1-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 2-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 3-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 10th Airmobile Reconnaissance Company (8 MH-20, 4 AH-10D; 120 Personnel)
- 10th Special Operations Aviation Battalion (20 MH-20, 8 MH-46A, 8 AH-10D; 120 Personnel)
- A Company, 4-10th Aviation Support Battalion (20 MH-20; 150 Personnel)
- B Company, 4-10th Aviation Support Battalion (8 MH-53J; 160 Personnel)

1st Combat Applications Group, 2nd Air Force
1st Flight, 1st Air Control Squadron (4 E-10B MC3I-STARS)
7th Fighter Wing (40 F-1A, 80 F-2A, 160 EF-2B; 440 Personnel)
8th Fighter Wing (40 F-1A, 80 F-2A, 160 EF-2B; 440 Personnel)
2nd Combat Communications Group (180 Personnel)
2nd Operational Support Group (1,236 Personnel)

The massive HTS-02C came to a stop on the airstrip, Jason had no idea where about's he was, somewhere in southeren Estonavia was all he knew. The place wasnt that big, only this fairly large runway, a Barracks, a makeshift radar tower that seemed to be being dismataled now that they had landed.

As he steped down the massive ramp two soilders walked towards him, he was rather shocked when he saw them. Corporate Security Forces, and not just any CSF but members of the 4th Corporate Army, the Bio-Tech Ind Defenders. An Corporate Army funded heavyly by the Bio-tech Industries, it ment that the 4th was pritty much a private army of theres aswell as part of the Muti-corporation Corporate Security force.

"so you must be the replacements" a voice came from behind the faceless gas mask of the Corporate soliders.

"Replacements?" jason replyed as he pulled out his smokes, lighting one up as he looked at the rising sun.

"ya, well your missions are to defend this shit hole of a base, man you woundnt belive how meny times we get attacked." The Solider replyed, "also to spreed out and capture as much as you can."

"that it?" the solider seemed shocked, "you have no idea do ya, shit we started out here 6 weeks ago with a Battlion, we're down to around 200 men, about 54 wounded and 63 missing." he rised his hand, in it was a clipbord with the Mercs orders.

"6 weeks and you lost that meany men? i thought you guys were the best" Jason replyed as he heared Sasha shouted at some of the troops in the plane.

"hell we are, but well you seem this is a true warzone, people killing people left right and center. In some areas there are booby traps you wouldnt belive. I was out on patrol with my squad, moving though some light woodland scouting out a town we were going to attack 3 weeks back, some bastards had set this trap, one guy set it off and a chain reaction of bombs all around us, trees fell down and i mean these trees had spikes. Dam that was nasty lost over half my men in that. we were lucky though, 2nd company of 1st platoon got wiped out by an ambush, we found them 4 days later, hanging from the trees, skinned aswell. one guy was still alive when we found them, half the skin on his body was gone. Hasnt spoken yet...most likely wont hes fucked up."

"grate" Jason replyed, he didnt like this. He signed the order forms and handed them back to the soilder.

"anyway the Majors waiting for you in the command tent, careful tho, i wouldnt go around with out full armor on, snipers in the area. We flush them out but they keep comeing back. Fucking ants, best put out that smoke aswell, kinda makes you a targets at this time." The soilder took the orders and saluted, running off to the trenches that seemed to run all over the base.

"i dont like this Sasha, feels like a suiside mission to me." he replyed "but the moneys good." jason though the smoke on the ground putting it out.

OOC: write more later.

The Estovakians were now getting reports of almost 6 more villages, all of which were suspected of housing Communists, being completely masaacred. Strangely all of these villages were destroyed just before an Exponent peacekeeping force could get there.

The People's Socialist Republic of Russkya has determined that Russkyan involvement in support of Estovakian troops is in the best interests of the region from a Russkyan viewpoint.

Although currently reorganizing and in the midst of a war in its immediate region, elements of the Russko-Celtic Corps may be considered for deployment. At present, Russkyan Observers will operate in the region, ideally near Estovakian or Aequatian forces. Larger, more organized forces will hopefully be able to deploy soon in support of our apparent Estovakian and Aequatian allies.

OOC:
- Consider a number of Russkyan 'Observers' (These men hail from... oh, let's make it one of my VDV Divisions.) to be in-country, with standard light equipment and a fairly good logistics link back to the homeland. No more than two hundred troops, roughly. Aequatio, I've seen some of your stuff, I'm suitably impressed, and wouldn't mind a six-man Observer patrol of mine making contact and having a chat with one of your patrols, to add some more depth to this thing. If you agree, of course.

--

"Master Sergeant? Take a look at this."

Ivan O'Connor, son of a Canadian-Irish immigrant and a Russkyan mother, a senior-grade field NCO with the Russkyan Air Assault (VDV) Divisions, let his AKS-74M hang by his side on its tactical sling and lifted the binoculars to his eyes, letting the scrim-netting that kept glare from the lenses and broke up their distinctive round outline hang in place.

Master Sergeant O'Connor nodded grimly, handing the binoculars back to his section-mate, and folded the stock out, locking it in place and setting his rifle's selector switch to semiautomatic. He waved an Campaign-experianced man to the point position, knowing his combat experiance, gleaned in Sorachoak, would hold them in good stead as they advanced towards the small village. Visible in a large ditch outside, scores of dead civilian bodies rotted. Blood splashed the streets, bullets had pock-marked walls, and O'Connor chewed on the inside of his left cheek, realizing;
This is what my brother dealt with when he was with the PPCLI in the Balkans, back in the Nineties.

The point-man signalled a halt, fifteen meters from the edge of the nearest building, a smoldering white-washed wreck of a house. The section broke into two teams of four, and swept through, finding nothing of value - even most livestock was taken. The radio operator handed the handset to O'Connor.

"Romeo, India One Charlie, over."
"Romeo."
"Romeo, India. Grid reference niner six alpha, eight alpha five. Small village, all inhabitants dead, area looted. Balkan-style, over."
"India, Romeo. Report your status, over."
"Romeo, India. All okay, full ammunition. Request orders, over."
"India, Romeo. Hold your position and await Intelligence Gathering Element, acknowledge, go."
"Romeo, India - wilco. Anything else, over?"
"India, Romeo, that's negative. Over."
"Romeo, India. Roger. India out."

O'Connor waved his squad to take up defensive positions in one of the larger buildings with a good line of sight over the surrounding area. They settled in to await the arrival of the Intel lads.

The Aequatian Republic, having monitored the growing situation within the troubled nation of Estovakia, would be willing to deploy a brigade-sized element to fulfill a peacekeeping operation in support of the Estovakian government.

1st Brigade, 10th Infantry Division (4,581 Personnel)
- 1st Brigade Headquarters Detachment (2 Centurion C4IV, 4 Wolf HMMWV; 54 Personnel)
- 31st Predator Reconnaissance Detachment (3 RQ-9A Predator C UAV, 3 Centurion C4IV, 2 Wolf HMMWV; 25 Personnel)
1-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
2-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
3-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
1-10th Armoured Battalion (48 M1 Panther MBT; 246 Personnel)
1-10th Combat Engineer Battalion (12 CEV Stallion, 12 AVLB Alligator; 486 Personnel)
1-10th Indirect-fire Gun Support Battalion (18 Cerberus SPG, 12 Crusader FISTV; 300 Personnel)
1-10th Air Defence Battalion (36 Cyclone ADV, 660 Personnel)
1-10th Forward Support Battalion (434 Personnel)

10th Special Combat Applications Regiment (1,000 Personnel)
- 10th Headquarters Detachment (2 Centurion C4IV, 4 Wolf HMMWV; 54 Personnel)
- 1-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 2-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 3-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 10th Airmobile Reconnaissance Company (8 MH-20, 4 AH-10D; 120 Personnel)
- 10th Special Operations Aviation Battalion (20 MH-20, 8 MH-46A, 8 AH-10D; 120 Personnel)
- A Company, 4-10th Aviation Support Battalion (20 MH-20; 150 Personnel)
- B Company, 4-10th Aviation Support Battalion (8 MH-53J; 160 Personnel)

1st Combat Applications Group, 2nd Air Force
1st Flight, 1st Air Control Squadron (4 E-10B MC3I-STARS)
7th Fighter Wing (40 F-1A, 80 F-2A, 160 EF-2B; 440 Personnel)
8th Fighter Wing (40 F-1A, 80 F-2A, 160 EF-2B; 440 Personnel)
2nd Combat Communications Group (180 Personnel)
2nd Operational Support Group (1,236 Personnel)

OOC: i know the names of the countries are similar but estovakia is peackeeping in Estonavia and thus Estovakia isn't the troubled nation.

1st Army Headquarters

General Tate, the famed Estovakian general, was around a battlefield map along with his aides.

"Sir, Foward Ops reported another massacre in a seventh village already. these results were fowarded by Exponent forces," the aide pointed out.

General Tate was no fool to what was going on. He knew what the Exponent forces were doing. He hated it. Massacring people was never in his doctrine. But he secretly deep down knew that it was helping make life easier. Much easier. Doing the work the Estovakians couldn't do. And if it meant that 1,000, 500, 100, 10, or even one Estovakin more would make it home because of them, then it was worth it. The Estovakian government agreed. That's why they gave him official orders not to interfere with the "missions".

Major General Orsk's Office ( in Stoczania)

General Orsk paced around on a hard wooden floor. The boards creaked underneath his no softening and somewhat bulgy body. Since, he is one of the few generals the Estovakians like from his country, he was put in charge of the Stoczanian involvement in the peacekeeping mission. he was pacing because something bothered him.

An aide had brought intelligence that another group was operating in the southern portion of Estonavia. Not a faction. Not even belonging to a faction. Something else. Something foreign.

Who the hell would care so much about some dipshit hellhole? Orsk couldn't put his finger on what he had seen in the satellite photos. There was a clearing, a plane (a huge plane), and a runway (he couldn't find the radar array). And something was drawing rebels to that area. Whatever it is at least they are giving the rebels a beating . But that just made him feel worse. What happens when the Estovakians encounter them? Or worse yet, his own countrymen? He decided to call Estovakian High Command. Perhaps they could get to the bottom of what was happening.

The Aequatian Republic, having monitored the growing situation within the troubled nation of Estovakia, would be willing to deploy a brigade-sized element to fulfill a peacekeeping operation in support of the Estovakian government.

1st Brigade, 10th Infantry Division (4,581 Personnel)
- 1st Brigade Headquarters Detachment (2 Centurion C4IV, 4 Wolf HMMWV; 54 Personnel)
- 31st Predator Reconnaissance Detachment (3 RQ-9A Predator C UAV, 3 Centurion C4IV, 2 Wolf HMMWV; 25 Personnel)
1-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
2-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
3-10th Infantry Battalions (2 Centurion C4IV, 12 Cougar AGS, 6 Centaur LAV, 15 Crusader LAV, 12 Chimera ATV, 36 Cavalier ICV, 792 Personnel)
1-10th Armoured Battalion (48 M1 Panther MBT; 246 Personnel)
1-10th Combat Engineer Battalion (12 CEV Stallion, 12 AVLB Alligator; 486 Personnel)
1-10th Indirect-fire Gun Support Battalion (18 Cerberus SPG, 12 Crusader FISTV; 300 Personnel)
1-10th Air Defence Battalion (36 Cyclone ADV, 660 Personnel)
1-10th Forward Support Battalion (434 Personnel)

10th Special Combat Applications Regiment (1,000 Personnel)
- 10th Headquarters Detachment (2 Centurion C4IV, 4 Wolf HMMWV; 54 Personnel)
- 1-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 2-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 3-10th Special Operations Squadron (132 Personnel)
- 10th Airmobile Reconnaissance Company (8 MH-20, 4 AH-10D; 120 Personnel)
- 10th Special Operations Aviation Battalion (20 MH-20, 8 MH-46A, 8 AH-10D; 120 Personnel)
- A Company, 4-10th Aviation Support Battalion (20 MH-20; 150 Personnel)
- B Company, 4-10th Aviation Support Battalion (8 MH-53J; 160 Personnel)

1st Combat Applications Group, 2nd Air Force
1st Flight, 1st Air Control Squadron (4 E-10B MC3I-STARS)
7th Fighter Wing (40 F-1A, 80 F-2A, 160 EF-2B; 440 Personnel)
8th Fighter Wing (40 F-1A, 80 F-2A, 160 EF-2B; 440 Personnel)
2nd Combat Communications Group (180 Personnel)
2nd Operational Support Group (1,236 Personnel)

1st Army Headquarters

On behalf of Estovakia I would like to personally thank the Aequatian Republic for their support. We will help support Aequatian and you are welcome to use our logistical system when necessary to ship your arms and ammunition. You can always create a base somewhere in Estonavia, but if you want there are 3 bases on the eastern border in Estovakia that could reach inside of virtually all of Estonavia that can facilitate your air force contingent. There are also 4 bases in captured Estonavia (two named: Fort Fischer and Fort Stovakgrada and two unnamed) that you can rename and utilize as you see fit. They will remain your bases indefinately as long as you retain forces in them.

I hope we can work together very well to accomplish peace on the Peninsula.

Sincerely,
General Tate

The People's Socialist Republic of Russkya has determined that Russkyan involvement in support of Estovakian troops is in the best interests of the region from a Russkyan viewpoint.

Although currently reorganizing and in the midst of a war in its immediate region, elements of the Russko-Celtic Corps may be considered for deployment. At present, Russkyan Observers will operate in the region, ideally near Estovakian or Aequatian forces. Larger, more organized forces will hopefully be able to deploy soon in support of our apparent Estovakian and Aequatian allies.

OOC:
- Consider a number of Russkyan 'Observers' (These men hail from... oh, let's make it one of my VDV Divisions.) to be in-country, with standard light equipment and a fairly good logistics link back to the homeland. No more than two hundred troops, roughly. Aequatio, I've seen some of your stuff, I'm suitably impressed, and wouldn't mind a six-man Observer patrol of mine making contact and having a chat with one of your patrols, to add some more depth to this thing. If you agree, of course.

--

"Master Sergeant? Take a look at this."

Ivan O'Connor, son of a Canadian-Irish immigrant and a Russkyan mother, a senior-grade field NCO with the Russkyan Air Assault (VDV) Divisions, let his AKS-74M hang by his side on its tactical sling and lifted the binoculars to his eyes, letting the scrim-netting that kept glare from the lenses and broke up their distinctive round outline hang in place.

Master Sergeant O'Connor nodded grimly, handing the binoculars back to his section-mate, and folded the stock out, locking it in place and setting his rifle's selector switch to semiautomatic. He waved an Campaign-experianced man to the point position, knowing his combat experiance, gleaned in Sorachoak, would hold them in good stead as they advanced towards the small village. Visible in a large ditch outside, scores of dead civilian bodies rotted. Blood splashed the streets, bullets had pock-marked walls, and O'Connor chewed on the inside of his left cheek, realizing;
This is what my brother dealt with when he was with the PPCLI in the Balkans, back in the Nineties.

The point-man signalled a halt, fifteen meters from the edge of the nearest building, a smoldering white-washed wreck of a house. The section broke into two teams of four, and swept through, finding nothing of value - even most livestock was taken. The radio operator handed the handset to O'Connor.

"Romeo, India One Charlie, over."
"Romeo."
"Romeo, India. Grid reference niner six alpha, eight alpha five. Small village, all inhabitants dead, area looted. Balkan-style, over."
"India, Romeo. Report your status, over."
"Romeo, India. All okay, full ammunition. Request orders, over."
"India, Romeo. Hold your position and await Intelligence Gathering Element, acknowledge, go."
"Romeo, India - wilco. Anything else, over?"
"India, Romeo, that's negative. Over."
"Romeo, India. Roger. India out."

O'Connor waved his squad to take up defensive positions in one of the larger buildings with a good line of sight over the surrounding area. They settled in to await the arrival of the Intel lads.

OOC: I can't post anymore tonight but I will acknowledge you tommorrow. I just don't want you to think I'm ignoring you or anything because i'm not.

5 exponent choppers flew over head of a group of Russkyan troops out on patrol. An EMP device was dropped to disable their radios. Ropes were thrown out of the sides of each chopper. "Communist filth, drop your weapons and you will not be harmed" a bull horn blared from one of the helos. Soon, 50 elite honor Guard troops were sliding down, circling the Russkyans.

OOC: I was operating under the impression that EMP is a side-effect of nuclear weapons, and that such a device would not be feasible in MT. While I recognize that your troops could easily detect my radio transmissions, and if you had the appropriate hardware, could probably even intercept and decode them, I do not believe you can disable India One Charlie's manpack radio and their personal-role radio system. I will however give you the benefit of the doubt - at this time - and assume firstly, mistaken identity, and secondly, that I1C's man-pack has suffered a technical failure.

--

"India One Charlie, Victor Three."

No response came over the radio. I1C was apparently suffering technical issues - or worse. But the commander of V3, a L-16 "Vixen" ISC tasked to the impromptu Recce Plt, pushed that thought from his mind. Victor Two (V2) was carrying the Intelligence team, and the pair of vehicles moved forward at a steady speed of fifty km/h.

"Victor Two, Three. Cannot raise India. Over."
"Three, Two. Wilco, continue, over."
"Three, out."

"India One Charlie, Victor Three. India One Charlie, Victor Three."

The commander swore under his breath and reached across the turret to tap his gunner's shoulder twice. He could have just as easily told him to step up to a higher alert over the vehicle's battlenet, but this was a personal signal the vehicle crew had rehearsed before, and added a special meaning to the proceedings - that of Oh, shit.

--

"Radio is fucked, Sergeant O'Connor."
"Right. Casualty to the radio, and - Marksman! How many do you see?"

O'Connor chose to shout down the hallway to his SVD-K equipped comrade, rather than use the PRR on his left shoulder, its headset secure against his head.

"Too many! Estimate at least forty!"
"Well clit-biting whorefuck. Corporal Narinov!"
"Sergeant?"
"Go out, unarmed, and have a nice chat with these fellows. Leave your rifle at the foot of the stairs, and if shit starts going sour, duck back from the doorway, grab your weapon, and get your ass back up here. Got it?"
"Yes, Sergeant."

The VDV man removed his helmet, hanging it over his canteen, and donned his issue Blue beret. Convienently, Russkyan (And Russian) VDV troops had the same colour berets as UN Peacekeepers, but that likely wouldn't matter a damn at the moment. He left his AKS-74M at the stairwell, and stood just outside the doorway with his hands away from his body, shouting out a greeting and an inquirey to whoever was in command of these troops:

" 'Allo! We're Russkyans, and we're Socialists, not Communists! Besides, aren't we on the same side?"

"Men keep em ready" The lieutenant whispered to his radio. "Your socialist not communist? Forgive me, but what is the difference." He noticed the blue beret. "O, so your peacekeepers too eh, how many men do you have with you?"

OOC: Let me get this straight: You have an EMP device that can generate EMP, in a modern tech timeframe, without needing an airburst nuclear weapon, that has disabled my radio(s) and yet not disabled your own? I will disregard any mention of EMP here, while not using my radio for what I want to use it for - calling in artillery fire-missions.

--

Corporal Narinov shouted back, loudly enough to be heard clearly;

"There's a fairly sizable difference, but I don't think now is the best time to get into this discussion. Suffice it to say, we're not natives, nor are we communists. Not so much peacekeepers as Observers, from a Russkyan VDV division, hence the blue beret. As to how many men, it's the usual patrol size."

Narinov was somewhat pleased with his evasive answer, given that a patrol, in Russkyan doctrine, could be conducted from anywheres from a battle-pair to a entire Rifle Company.

Upstairs, Master Sergeant O'Connor knelt on the floor next to his radio operator, who closed the OD Green case and handed the handset to the Sergeant again. His own headset was plugged both to his PRR and the manpack radio, controlled via a toggle switch, but at the moment, the headset was on the floor next to the radio.

"Romeo, India One Charlie."
"Romeo here."
"Romeo, India. We are surrounded by numerically superior force. Currently conducting talks. Request immediate data on any friendly units moving to assist, request immediate reinforcement. Over."
"India, Romeo. Intelligence group with Victor Two and Victor Three moving to your location, estimate time of arrival in zero-five minutes. Further reinforcement group working up now. Over."
"Romeo, India. Acknowledged, over."

Victor Two keyed his transmit switch from the commander's seat of the L-16ISC not further than a kilometer and a half away, now.

"India One Charlie, Victor Two, break urgent."
"Victor, India. Good to hear from you, over."
"India, Victor. The very same. Have visual on helicopters and troops around your position. Please advise, over."
"Victor, India. Wait one. Over. Romeo, India. Please advise your plan, over."
"India, Romeo. At your discretion, India One Charlie. Romeo will coordinate further efforts. Remember, you're never alone with a bedside phone. Romeo out."
"Victor, India. You catch that, over?"
"India, Victor. Affirmative. Over."
"Victor, India; Hold one vehicle in overwatch position at appropriate ranges. Bring the other to the front step of the third building, white-washed. Please advise your direction from village, over."
"India, Victor, we are North North East of your current position, over."
"Victor, India. Look for the blue beret in the window. Roll up to that building, if there's a cordon of troops that try to stop you, halt in a hull-down position and take off the safeties. Things might get hot. Keep Romeo in the loop, we might need some more clout. Acknowledge, go."

Victor Two acknowledged, grimly;

"India, Victor acknowledges. Over."
"Victor, India out."

The L-16 ISC was armed with a 35mm automatic cannon, a coaxial machinegun, and a overhead machinegun on the commander's station, as well as two antitank missiles loaded, the GWLS.77V "Emu," to be specific. In the back of Victor Two, the eight-man Intelligence section, on the battle-net courtesy of their PRRs linked into the vehicle's comms, loaded their rifles and listened to their section leader brief them.

1st Army Headquarters

On behalf of Estovakia I would like to personally thank the Aequatian Republic for their support. We will help support Aequatian and you are welcome to use our logistical system when necessary to ship your arms and ammunition. You can always create a base somewhere in Estonavia, but if you want there are 3 bases on the eastern border in Estovakia that could reach inside of virtually all of Estonavia that can facilitate your air force contingent. There are also 4 bases in captured Estonavia (two named: Fort Fischer and Fort Stovakgrada and two unnamed) that you can rename and utilize as you see fit. They will remain your bases indefinately as long as you retain forces in them.

I hope we can work together very well to accomplish peace on the Peninsula.

Sincerely,
General Tate

OOC: My bad about before, read things too fast.

IC:

To: General Tate, Commander of 1st Estovakian Army
From: General Von Mann, Aequatian Republic Joint Military Forces Central Command

We appreciate the support of your force's facilities and resources to aid in the deployment and mobilization of our combat elements. We shall be deploying them to the nation of Estonavia. Lead Aequatian Republic Army (ARA) units will be arriving within the coming 24 hours with the rest of the brigade following over the concurrent 48 hours. Aequatian Republic Air Force (ARAF) units will arrive within the next 24 hours and will be ready to conduct missions after orientation after arrival. As with all Aequatian operations, air and combat support elements (artillery, helicopters) will be available for use by those within the theatre of operations.

Telegram to Estovakia:

The Republic of Upper Weston inuires as to wheter or not you feel a Regiment of Upper Weston troops will be required in Estonavia.

Tyler Hutchins
Prime Minister
Republic of Upper Weston

Jason and Shasha walked to the Command tent to meet the major, it seemed cold here, he could tell that the Corporation had tryed to keep this place hidden but the large plan that landed most likely gave it away.

He noticed as was walking that most of the Corporate Soliders were almost always wearing full body armor, not a suprise he thought, tho it must have been unconfutable to wear when alseep. Tho when your in a warzone comfort was not a big thing.

He could hear in the distance the sound of gun fire in the background, form what he could tell maby a klick or two away. That soilder wasnt wrong about this place being a shit hole.

As he Steped into the tent it wasnt unlike he expected, People sitting by the radios and maps on boards, Command staff walking around muttering.

Hr noticed the Major standing over a table, on it was a map of the southern region, Sat Photos of key area's, estermated numbers of troops in areas, notes on area's known to be traped and much more. For 6 weeks work the Corporate security force knew what they were doing.

Jason and sasha stood behind the Major, "Commander Jason Vorn and Major Sasha Kree reporting as ordered sir." Jason said as he and sasha saluted the major.

He turned round, or what jason thought was a he at first. When the Major turned round he saw it was infact a woman. She was around 30, with purple hair that came down her sholders at the back. She didnt look like the sort of woman to be part of the CSF but who knew.

"ahh" she said saluting back, "at ease, just to tell you out side dont salute anyone. So you must be the Black Hand, the Mercs sent here to replace my men. Well you will be under my command from now on, me, the command staff and a company of my best men will be staying. I have a feeling the Corporation dosnt trust Merc's" she sighed.

"yes mam" Jason replyed now that he knew she was female he thought he should use the right doctrine.

"well, first things frist. about 12 Kicks from here will be a convoy of Trucks. The CSAF is smuggling in a a Squad of there new AV-28 Wraith's, its only 7 of the new babys but they will help alot also theres other supplies, small arms mainly, we will be supplying other factions and have been since we got here. We need you to sacure the Area and escort the covoy here. we would do it ourselves but we just dont have the man power if any of the rebals factions attack. You might also want to know that we have had reports of some military force going from villiage to villiage killing all commie civilians. unless your attacked by international forces dont engage, we dont need the agrro. By now they most likely know we are here and im expecting an attack."

"vary well mam" Jason replyed taking the file off her, he knewthe force he was going to use, sasha's Battlion should do the job with little to no problem. With the new Spartan Mk.III they had brought with them it wouldnt be a problem. He only had 64 of them, part of Sasha's force, The mobile Spartan Mk.III Battlion.

"that will be all, dismissed" The major replyed saluting.


OOC: the stats for the Plane http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=482739 here. If you want to look at what my CSF soliders wear/look like go here:- http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=10925240
Spartan Mk.III
go here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=414464)

To: General Tate, Commander of 1st Estovakian Army
From: General Von Mann, Aequatian Republic Joint Military Forces Central Command

Unfortunately, due to a severe situation, the Aequatian Republic will not be able to conduct its part in operations within Estonavia.

THE OUTSKIRTS OF AN ESTONAVIAN VILLAGE

Gisela Dominguez tapped her foot impatiently, fidgeting with the safety on her Saiga-12K.
"Those rebels said they'd be here to collect these guns," she said.
"Calm down, Gisela," Celio Abarca, another soldier said, "If those rebels are looking to take power in Estonavia, they'll be here."
For weeks it had been running like this. The PRH-TT had come into contact with Communist rebels and had been running supplies through Estovania to them. There were about 100 Tejano soldiers there, in Tejano Proletariat Army uniforms, all driving in transport cars full of old AKMs.
Finally, a group of ragtag Estonavians came to the area.
"Do you have the weapons?" one, who was holding an old Mosin-Nagant carbine.
"Yeah, right here," Celio said, "Take 'em."
"Thank you," the rebel said, "The People's Republic of H-Town Tejas will be remembered for their generous help."
"Yeah, yeah," Gisela said impatiently, "Just take them quickly, before we get caught by peacekeepers or something."

Victor One's commander, belonging to the Russkyan Observer Detatchment's Recce Platoon, looked down from his perch, his arms bracing the binoculars and really just his head and shoulders visible from the commander's hatch of the L-16ISC that was serving in the impromptu ReccePlt until some FOVs or CRVs could be ferried in.

Over his vehicle's comms-net, he notified his crew. The powerful radio fitted to the ISC made contact with the Observer HQ, and a burst transmission was dispatched in OPSCODE;

UN/ID-FOR RV ESTON-IRREG ARMSTRDE GRIDREF 98C34B.

Translated from OPSCODE to standard English:
"Unidentified Force rendezvous with Estonavian Irregulars have conducted arms trade at Grid Reference 98C 34B."

The Russkyans didn't particularly care at the moment, so long as they weren't engaged in force. They were here to observe, not intervene. At least, that was their mandate. Given provocation, they might've become involved. At the moment, it was just intelligence-gathering and observation.

"Alrite, look, we dont have time for you right now. We are gunna let you off with a warning. Stay behind the Estovakian front lines. Up here, its Cobra territory. Now get out of here" the lieutenant said, as his men pulled back. The choppers landed in a nearby field to pick up the men, as two Cobra attack helicopter flew overhead to make sure they weren't attacked in their exit

And you dont need a nuke for an EMP http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electromagnetic_bomb

V2's intelligence team had dismounted the Victor Two L-16ISC, which had taken up a hull-down position providing overwatch on the NNE sides of the house the Russkyan patrol occupied, while V3 advanced. The Cobra-type attack helicopters flew by, unchallenged, and the man with the 9K32 "Strela" MANPAD re-stowed the weapon inside the Vixen. Had he activated the weapon's guidance, it might've registered in the Cobras, but since he hadn't, and since he'd remained just inside the L-16 "Vixen" ISC, waiting to emerge, the Russkyan precaution had caused no issues. The VDV men and the Intelligence group waited in their impromptu positions in the slight folds in the ground, behind rocks, bushes, trees, etc, and the Vixen remained motionless, including the turret. Inside the turret, the gunner was tense on the controls of the 35mm automatic cannon; unsure if all Exponent forces had left or not.

His comrade, V3, with the empty troop-bay, approached at the maximum cross-country speed of fifty kilometers an hour; some dust was raised by the wheels, and the Russkyan machine halted just outside the house.

O'Connor's section of eight filed out of the house and formed near where they'd entered the village. While V2's commander consulted his map, V3 radioed headquarters with a full report of what had happened, Corporal Narinov scribbled rapid notes in his notepad, for he intended to write a short book when / if he got back to Russkya, and the Intelligence boys counted bodies, dug bullets out of corpses, took photographs, and video as well.

The two units re-boarded the Recce Plt's vehicles and headed back on the roads to the hastily thrown up headquarters in an abandoned hamlet, quite near the Estovakian lines, pretty well out in "No-Man's Land" though. As they entered the laager, the L-16ISC designated "Victor One" returned from a patrol. V4 was down for regular maintainence.

--

To: Estovakian Leadership & Operations Staff
From: Russkyan Observer Detatchment
Body:
- As you are aware, Russkyan observers are operating in Estovania. So far, no engagements have been made, and patrol operations proceed smoothly, but for the one incident prompting this message. An Exponent helicopter-borne force of what appeared to be elite troops surrounded a Russkyan patrol. Talks were conducted, and before they withdrew, it was suggested to the patrol commander that our forces stay behind your lines.

Since the Russkyan government deployed troops to this conflict on the side of the Estovakians, and since the Observers have seen nothing to suggest that the Estovakians should not be backed, it is within my ability to ask if you would want my force, approximately two hundred and fifty (Reinforced VDV Company with LAVs) strong, to affiliate directly with your nation, and operate alongside your troops. Further information on the Russkyan VDV can be supplied if you wish, to aid in your decision.

My apologies for the hasty nature of this missive. Things are hectic at the moment. It is my hope that you will understand and not mind too greatly.

Best Regards,
- Captain Iltchenko, Russkyan VDV, Observer Detatchment Estovania / Estovakia.

Edit:
OOC:
And you dont need a nuke for an EMP http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electromagnetic_bomb

That's good to know. My research (Also on Wikipedia) suggested that nuclear weapons were nessecary for a EMP effect. Had I known earlier, I may have reacted differently. At the moment, we should probably let things slide. Thanks for the heads-up. An interesting technology, to be sure.

"We have reports of an arms transaction with a group of communist forces and an unknown possible foreign entity, Cobra team, please respond" the call came over the radio. In minutes, 5 blackhawks and 2 Cobra attack choppers lifted out of the base. 4 men were on each Cobra, sitting on the runners, and 10 men were in each Black Hawk. Within 15 minutes, they were approaching the suspected village.

Gisela looked up at the sky.
"COÑO!" she shouted. Peacekeepers were on to them. 7 choppers.
The rebels all scattered. They had heard what happened in the other vilage. They just weren't willing to risk it.
However, while it was easy to hide about twenty rebels, one hundred TPA soldiers and big transport trucks couldn't just disappear. The only way out for the TPA soldiers was to cross into Estovania, which was about 20 miles away.
Celio busted open a box, full of new RPG-7 launchers and PG-7VL grenades. Slinging his AKM over his shoulder, he picked one up and shoved a PG-7VL into it. The rest of the launchers went to the other soldiers.
"If they shoot, shoot back!" Celio shouted.

The cobras flew in first, and unloaded their sniper teams onto the two biggest structures in the town, a church steeple and a clock tower. They then proceded to take positions and find the most threatening targets. The Black hawks came next. Ropes were thrown down, and the elite forces began sliding down. The gunners in the black hawks picked their targets as well. "Communist scum, drop your weapons and put your hands on your heads. If you go peacefully you eill not be harmed" As this was being said, The snipers also picked out targets, and the first men on the ground took up positions.

"The only scum around here are you assholes, fascistas!" Celio shouted. He pointed the RPG-7 at the nearest copter and pulled the trigger. The 34 other soldiers with RPG-7s did the same, and soon, 35 PG-7VLs were flying at the copters.
Meanwhile, the 55 soldiers without RPG-7s aimed at the ground soldiers and fired. They all either had AKMs, Saiga-12K assault shotguns, RPK light machine guns, or were using their underbarrel GP-25 grenade launchers. Finally, the 10 designated marksmen pointed their SVD sniper rifles at the steeple and the clock tower and began sniping back. They aimed to take out some of them before hopping into the trucks and hopping the border. If they just left, the rebels were screwed.

Countermeasures were immediatly taken, flares and chaff were dispersed, and the Cobras both made hard lefts and avoided the rockets. 3 of the blackhawks were not as lucky. One was destroyed in the air, blowing to pieces after taking 2 direct hits. Another smashed down in the middle of the market place, while the third cracked into a building and blew apart. The snipers began unloading on the TPA troops below them. Meanwhile, the 2 remaining Black Hawks opened up on the enemies below them with their chainguns. The 2 cobras strafed the communist position with their machine guns, then unloaded a rocket barrage into the transport trucks, forcing the TPA to either hoof it out, or fight here. The men of Cobra team began calling out their shots. Being the elite Honor Guard, they were all marksman, and most of their shots hit a target. 10 Guardsmen kicked in the doors to a building, killed the people inside, and began opening fire out the windows. The rest took cover behind cars and anything else they saw. The sergeant immediatly got on the radio as soon as he saw the chopper crash. "Hotel 6 is down, I repeat Hotel 6 is down. Blueboot, take your men annd secure the crash site" On that order, 10 men pulled back from the fighting to secure the downed chopper and search for survivors.

Frantic radio reports began spewing in to the Exponent Comand Base. General Martin O'Neil, the comander of this operation cracked a smile, and radioed back to Paradise City of the situation.

Back in Paradise City, General Blueshield read the report with equal joy. "Mr Blackhelm, there is a problem in Estonavia, i think we need more troops."

Official statement from Chancellor Lucius Blackhelm
To Estovakian Leadership
Citing our forces current situation in a village in Estonavia, we have decided that 80 men is not a sufficient enough force here. Exponent is sending 700 more infantry men and 20 XM-1 tanks to stay on its base in the country, and will only be used in support roles to the Honor Guard already in the area. An additional 40 Honor Guard are being sent in, as well as replacements for those who have been KIA. This should boost the numbers of Cobra team to 120 men, and thus will increase their operational capabilities. 2 destroyers are also being deployed, the Freedom and the Ghost and should be within Estovanian territory shortly.

"This is chalk 4 to command do we have permission to call for other peacekeepers in the area for support?"
"Negative chalk 4, you aren't supposed to be there, we dont need other guys bailing you out here, I have full faith in your men that they will make it out"
"Roger that command, we will try and take the village on our own"

The honor guard were all behind cover, taking a devastating toll on the TPA troops in the area. Blueboots squad had reached the downed blackhawk and began setting up a defensive perimeter. The pilot was still alive and conscious. His co-polit was unconcious, and had a visibly broken leg. The two gunners were not as lucky. 3 snipers were dead, 1 was injured. On the ground, 12 men were dead, another 7 wounded. The TPA casualties were undoubtedly higher, as they were regulars squaring off against special forces.
The Cobras turned around, and began another strafe on the TPA troops, this time emptieing their rockets into any building they took cover in.

Tejano soldiers took heavy casualties against the Exponent soldiers. 37 Tejanos were killed, including 5 snipers. Five of the seven transport trucks exploded as well.
Celio saw they were fighting a losing battle. Most of the soldiers had some sort of wound, and the rebels had their time to escape.
"Let's get outta here!" he shouted in Spanish. Two soldiers got into the driver's seats of the two remaining trucks. The soldiers who could piled into the back, while the one's who couldn't had to be dragged in.
The engines started, and the drivers floored their trucks towards the road that led to the Estovanian border checkpoint.
"Those fascist birdcraps are going to die," Gisela growled.
"Save it," Celio sighed, "If any nation has so little of a life that they were patrolling a village like that, then nothing short of a full-scale assault is going to get us a socialist government in Estonavia."
"So, Chairman's going to swallow his pride and strike something up with Estovania?" Gisela said.
"When he hears about this, I don't think he'll have any problem," Celio sighed.

OOC: Sorry I wasn't on NS yesterday everybody. Let's just say my stomach wasn't very amicable and friendly.

From: Estovakian High Command
To: Russkyan Observer Detatchment

If you want to affiliate with the Estovakian military. You are more than welcome. We are pushing into the center of the country however. Be aware that increased fighting is erupting due to rogue mercenary units, actual governmental forces, and also like always, factions.

OOC: (BTW: the peacekeeping mission is in Estonavia. The socialist country to the north is Estovania. Confusing, i know.)

Official statement from Chancellor Lucius Blackhelm
To Estovakian Leadership
Citing our forces current situation in a village in Estonavia, we have decided that 80 men is not a sufficient enough force here. Exponent is sending 700 more infantry men and 20 XM-1 tanks to stay on its base in the country, and will only be used in support roles to the Honor Guard already in the area. An additional 40 Honor Guard are being sent in, as well as replacements for those who have been KIA. This should boost the numbers of Cobra team to 120 men, and thus will increase their operational capabilities. 2 destroyers are also being deployed, the Freedom and the Ghost and should be within Estovanian territory shortly.

From: Estovakian High Command
To: Chancellor Lucius Blackhelm

I understand the need for an increase in units. We thank you for telling us before hand so as to avoid misunderstanding. We would like to ask that you do not move destroyers into Estovanian territory, as it will provoke war. If you meant Estonavia, be aware that it is landlocked and is consequently impossible to reach. If you would like you could dock the destroyers in Stoczania, our allies' nation you can, however I do not know what role they would perform.

Official Communique of the Estovanian Republic

From: President Zcarak
To: Estovakia and its allies

We officially deplore your nations' actions in "peacekeeping". Estovania condemns these acts of aggression and imperialism. We ask that all foreign nations kindly remove themselves from the peninsula and that estovakia withdraw from Estonavia at once. Estovania, as well as the Stovakian Union and Stovakistan do not support these actions and we have taken the liberty to inform all of those involved that this is a regional matter that should be settled diplomatically not militarily.

Estovania would like to also remind all of those involved of the increased violence that has come as a result of their actions. Thousands have died in battles anbd whole villages have been massacred solely because of their beliefs. As a Socialist nation, we must also condemn the discrimination and brutality innocent civilians face because of their conscious decisions and socialist beliefs.

The Russkyan encampment had relocated to the North, in the area between Major General Heidelmann's Estovakian 2nd Division and Lieutenant General Weiss' II Corps. [OOC: According to this map (http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/invasion1.bmp).] This move put them much closer to Estovania, whose government had recently condemned Estovakian operations in Estonavia. The Russkyans however - at reinforced VDV Rifle Company strength, including LAVs, and recently, Anti-Armour and Air Defence vehicle companies had come down the logistical pipeline, along with four L-16CRVs for the Recce Platoon - had made the relocation in under two days, moving in a massive armed convoy that had encountered no resistance, passing through more than a few blasted villages.

Their current position was dug-in on a hill overlooking a small village directly to their North, and a smaller series of connected villages / hamlets to their South-East. They were just on the edge of the Estovakian frontage, which was to their West, and anchored where 2nd Division and II Corps had their lines presumably overlapping. Estovakian, and allied forces, had continued their advance into the Central region of Estonavia, an apparently narrowed area that enabled the defenders to field a good ratio of troops to frontage, and apparently put in a decent defence, judging from the weapons fire in that direction, ranging from the crackle of small-arms to the larger, intermittent artillery barrages, in addition to the other noises of war.

Captain Iltchenko went over a map in his HQ Tent with the Company Commanders of both the Air Defence and Anti-Armour coys, whose vehicles were currently dug in inside the Russkyan base's footprint. L-16ISC and L-16CRVs left on patrols of the surrounding countryside, ranging as far North as twenty five kilometers, as far South as twenty five kilometers, and as far to the East as fifty kilometers, sometimes encountering small groups of armed villagers that had so far seemed unwilling to engage the Russkyans.

Iltchenko went over the Estovanian missive, forwarded it to Russkya, although it had presumably been recieved there likely before he'd seen it, and then went to send a messenger to Major General Heidelmann. The dispatch that man carried read:

Russkyan Observer Detatchment
MGen Heidelmann, 2nd Division, Estovakia

Sir,
- My Observer Detatchment consists of approximately two hundred and fifty VDV (Air-Assault Troops) operating with L-16 "Vixen" vehicles - if not familiar with this design, think of an upgunned Canadian LAV-III - instead of the Russkyan Army Aviation Assualt Helicopter and Transport Helicopter Squadrons. Recently the unit has been reinforced with an Anti-Armour and Air Defence Company, and while forced by diplomacy in the SFR region to remain at this size, my Detatchment has been authorized to conduct military operations of an offensive or defensive nature in support of Estovakian forces in the region. It is my preference that the Observer Detatchment operate alongside your 2nd Division. If nessecary, the trade of liasons would make our lives easier as we attempt to coordinate. As you are no doubt aware, my force is currently dug in overlooking two villages and a wide expanse of land, at the enclosed GPS Reference. We are conducting combat and recce patrols to the North, South, and East. Will await your response.

Regards,
- Captain Iltchenko.

--

"Marksman!"
"Yes?"

Always cultured, always polite thought O'Connor, of his squad's recent attachment from the Platoon, the Plt's Designated Marksman, armed with his SVD-K rifle.

"See him?"
"Yes. He is in a low building approximately one hundred meters from my position, to the left of the roadway."
"Take him out."

The Marksman clicked his Personal Role Radio's transmit key once, the click transmitting as an unspoken acknowledgement of Master Sergeant O'Connor's order. He slid up to the base of the bush that was on the edge of the slight depression he'd sought cover in, just slightly to the right of the stem, and braced his rifle's forestock on his left fist, letting the PSOP optic magnify the image infront of him, tracing the reticule over the whitewashed house, and the dark behind the broken window was suddenly shattered by the stacatto muzzle-flashes of a RPK-type weapon being fired in a long burst. The marksman rested his crosshairs on the man's face, the center, and smoothly pulled his trigger - the 9.3x64mm cartridge blasted from the muzzle and into the man's head, just below the nose, straight in, ripping the skull and flesh apart, and neatly bisecting the brain stem. He fell back dead.

"Vixen?"
"India?"
"Be ready to move up."
"Wilco."

It seemed that there was maybe just that one man - and the man to O'Connor's left was immediately shot by an AKM-wielding man as O'Connor and his battle-pair partner moved from the ditch where they'd sought cover and concealment. O'Connor reacted instantly, having served in Sorachoak, he'd seen comrades killed before, and he fired his rifle on semiautomatic at the shape, double-tapping the form in the chest with his AKS-74M. His left hand found purchase on his downed comrade's assault vest, and he was pulled across the open ground to the back of a bullet pockmarked wall, where two other VDV men crouched. The machinegun pair opened fire, their PKM cutting down two more men, and as Vixen rolled up the slight decline that had hidden it from the village, an PG-7VR rocket streaked over the turret by a good two meters. The gunner unleashed a five round burst from the 35mm automatic cannon, and the high explosive fragmentation rounds blew the wall out of that small two-storey house, making the interior of both the first and second floor visible. A flitting shape was visible inside, and a small girl ran out into the street, running across the hard-packed dirt road intersection to a house on the far side. No more RPGs emerged from the ripped-open house.

The man at O'Connor's feet gurgled and died, his upper chest and lower throat a mass of mangled flesh, ivory-white broken bone, and dark red blood. O'Connor looked down at the fresh corpse, and closed its eyes, detailing the two men that crouched next to him to carry the body into the troop-bay of the L-16ISC after they'd swept the small hamlet a good 35 kilometers from the Eastern side of the Russkyan encampment's defensive peremiter.

"These mother fuckers!" yelled Sergeant Redbreast. "Blueboot, what is your status?"
"We have secured the crash, and are awaiting med evac"
"Alright roger that, med evac is en route, ETA 5 minutes, just hold tight"
"Copy that, holding position"
"The rest of you, I want to make sure this never happens again, bathe the village in fire, lets roll"

On that order, Cobra team began kicking in the doors of every building in the town. They herded all of the people in each house in a corner, and told them not to move or they would be shot. Some of the more merciless Honor Guard even went so far as to tie the people together, or to a chair or pole. After they were done looting, the men pulled back to choppers that had been set up. As soon as the last man was gone, the 2 cobras came back, fully reloaded. They unloaded a devastating hail of napalm onto the village, burning the civilians and hidden rebels alike in the fire storm.

The Freedom and the Ghost sailed calmly into Estovanian waters, scanning for anything that bore signs of the Tejano's.

6 Um Al Maradim Class fast attack boats zipped ahead of the destroyers. Rumor was that the Tejano's were fleeing to a village inside of Estovania. If it was on the coast, they would not last long. Out in internantional waters, an Ocean class helicopter carrier waited, bobbing peacefully, for the confirmation of the vilage hiding the Communists.

http://www.naval-technology.com/projects/combattante/combattante1.html

tag

From Exponential High Command
To Government of Estovania

We are aware that you are hiding communist rebels in your nation, as well as supplying the communist faction in Estonavia. We ask that you give up all Tejano soldiers, as well as any other rebels seeking refuge in your nation. Failure to comply will result in missile attacks on all major Estovanian military installations.

"WHAT!" Chairman Nagaraku said.
Chief of the TPA Saki Nakahara winced, "Please don't shout, Ryouta. It's only two destroyers. Even the TPN can destroy that."
"It isn't that," the Chairman said, "We got Estovania into this just because they were the go-between into Estonavia. I'm not going to allow those exponentially fascist Exponentials to do any more damage than they already have."
He was referring to the report on his desk, from Lieutenant Gisela Zapatero.
"Those 'peacekeepers' torched the village the rebels were hiding out at. Those Exponent people are top-notch fascists. I wasn't even sure they would quit following us once we crossed into Estovania."
"Tell Mikel to tell Exponent to back off," Ryouta said, "Their 'peacekeeping' is supposed to be going on in Estonavia, and 'they got the wrong country' isn't going to work."

To: Exponent

Back off of Estovania. You are supposed to be peacekeeping in Estonavia. Estovania is bigger than you, I might add, and we so are we. There's a reason housecats don't pick fights with tigers.

To: The Estovanian Republic

We are extremely sorry we got you into this. We would be more than willing to help you against Exponent if they attack you.

Mikel Aritza, PRH-TT Foreign Minister

To H-Town Tejas and Estovania

The Estovanian government is hiding criminals who have killed 17 Exponential soldiers. All we ask is that you surrender these men, and our strike group will pull back.

OOC: Estovakia i noticed on the map that Estovania is near the sea...is there any Port towns/cities that a Freighter or some form of ship can dock at to unload the "cargo" or will i have to RP it that the Cargo was driven though X nation to the border for my troops to pick the "cargo" up?

IC:


8 klicks from CSF Outpost/airstrip

A recon Squad (9 men/women+ 9 Ranger crew) had been scouting the area out, recent reports had a number of unknown hostiles operating in this area. The Squad, dubed the Pathfinders was one of only 4 recon squad the Merc's had useing the Aequatio Designed Ranger Mk.II Recon CVR.

One unit, Pathfinder 2 had gone ahead of the 3 ranger CVR's, it was a standard thing to do and something that saved lives.

They were about 2 kicks from a reported Strong hold Town of some Warlord or druglord, it changed from day to day according to CSF intel. The tarran was barron, filled with Shell holls and some dead bodies here and there.

The Rangers came to a holt, in a scattered formation, it was stupid to stop closed together or in a line...it was just asking to get a artillary shell landing on your head or a AT missile blowing away the rear.

Sergent Holess was sitting in the back of one of the Rangers, he like all Recon units in or out of the CSF didnt wear the full body armor and hetsets the CSF and the other Mercs did. It was jus the Standard SHS (skin hugging suit), camo Battle Dress and a Light Kevlar KM2 that protected the rear sides and front of the torso with a 8 pound Ceramic Plate for the front. It provided protection 5.56 mm and 7.62 mm projectiles.

"Serg, Pathfinder 2 reports they have spotted what looks like a Rebal Camp, small only about...20-30 men." the Commander (a Corporal) of the Ranger said. "there requesting orders sir"

"tell them to hold there postion, patch me though to HQ" Holess replyed.

"your patched though sir"

"Pathfinder 1 to Eyes, Hostile Camp, 20-30, found at location 187-457-124, Request orders" Holess said into his head set.

"Eyes ot Pathfinder 1, Location noted, The Major orders destroy Camp. all objects now Void. Copy."

"Copy that Eyes, All Ob's Void, Destroy Camp. Over"

"good hunting Pathfinder."

Holess sighed, he hated it when the major sent his Squad into a mission like this. "ok, Corporal take us to Pathfinders 2 Location." he ordered.

The rangers moved out, it took about 10 minutes to get there at full speed, they decided it was best to come up behind the hills near the base and head on top.

The troops disembarked from the Rangers as Pathfinder 2 came running over to the rest of the squad, the men each carrying a CSF-M5 assault rifles. The men came to a halt in front of holess and saluted, Lance Corporal Rains was the leader of this unit.

"Sir" she said as he saluted, "we spoted intotal 23 hostiles below. Its a makeshift camp, Tents mainly and a few shacks but there is a house. No armor, so to speek, just a few jeeps and trucks." She pulled out a quickly draw map of the base.

On it was the markings of 6 large Tents, the Fireing range they had set up. the few shacks dotted about the place. And a House.

"did you see what they were armed with?" Holess replyed as he looked at the map.

"AK-47's, 9mm Pistols and Frag grenades. From what we can tell the Radios and such are in the house aswell as most of the supplys. These hostiles are greens, sir, this is a training base for the kids." Rains replyed looking up.

"vary well, Rains you take your unit round there right Flank, use the Ranger's heavy weapons to ripe to shreds the tents and training ground. Tank Lance Corporal Kain with you, you could use the fire support from his Ranger" he said looking at the Ranger commander.

"yes sir"

"Lance Corporal Iskusaki, take your unit up to the top of the hill, take a good postion and cover the area." He Ordered Iskusaki who was holding a .50 Cal CSF-S5 sniper Rifle, the 2 soldiers behind him were carrying modifed CSF-M5 rifles with 2x Scopes.

"yes sir"

"my unit will hit the left flank. all right ladies move out" he ordered as she saluted his squad, "and good hunting" he added.

The troops all boarded into the Rangers, apart from Pathfinder 3 who headed up the hill on foot.

It took about 10 minutes for the Rangers to move round to the right postions, when they did Haless and his team hoped out of there ranger. they had set themselves up nicely, the camp was just in view, and no one would spot the ranger unless they where looking right at them.

"ok when we get the signal." he said to Raven and Ishi, 2 Privates in his unit.

They sat croched down watching over the camp, picking targets as they waited. then the signal came, 2 clicks in the headsets. Sign that each unit was read, the Sergent made his headset click back to tell the others to attack.

At that the sound of the M90 20mm Turret-Mounted Autocannon on the rangers could be heared from the other side. His unit moved fast in, single shots as they took cover around a few trees. Bullets hitting the tree that haless was behind, he managed to get a quick look as he saw the camp, meny of the rebals were cought off guard. some even without shirts and looked as tho they were just shaving, he could see at the other side the 2 rangers moving in laying a barrage of fire on the tents.

"MOVE" he shouted as she fired off a few rounds at the rebal who was reloading his AK, 3 rounds hitting the guy in the chest. "Ranger 1 open fire on that house, lay waste to hit" he order as he ran down to teh camp, Ishi and raven following him on his flanks.

the ranger moved forwards, opening a hail of bullets onto the house, smashing windows and leaving holes in the walls.

Haless kneeled down by by a rock as he loaded his undersling grenade Launcher and pulling the trigger. The granade exploded in one of the tents, ripping it apart and setting fire to what was left.

Bullets rained from both sides onto the camp, as the Recon squad fell apon it.Rebals still firing back, tho meny started to run or atlest tryed befor the snipers took them out.

As Haless moved forwards he looked to his left, there was Raven but when he looked to his right he couldnt see Ishi. He quickly looked round when he saw her, laying on the ground.

"MAN DOWN MAN DOWN" he shouted as he got up to run over to her, "RAVEN COVER ME" he shouted at Raven.

Bullets were raining hard apon the ground where Ishi was, plums of mud flying up as bullets impacted with the ground. Haless managed to get behind a tree as the round poured in. Fire from the house was coming in heavy.

"Pathfinder 2, lay down fire on the house, god dam it do it now." he said in his head set.

At that point the Rangers in 2nd squad changed fire and started to let lose onto the house. The sound of Braking glass and flesh riping apart could be heared as the Rangers moved in, now they were right infront of the houses. All 3 of them sitting around this one house letting lose with all there might, Parthfinder 2 where hiding behind one of the CVR's. The rain of bullets near the Sergent was died down giving him time to run over to Ishi, Raven had moved up to Haless.

"Its ok Ishi, come on stay with me" he said Dragging her behind a now batted and broken tree. He looked her over as he noticed that a bullet had hit her in the chest, 6 rounds and only 1 of them had got though.

He pulled out his med kit opening it up to pull out the morphine, he looked at Ishi.

"dont...let me...die Serg" she said looking at him.

"im not going to..i havent lost a girl yet" he said as he gave her the injection in the side of the neck. after that he unstraped her Vest, he saw where the bullet had gone in, luckly the SHS was doing its job, where the bullet had riped though it it had tightened and applyed alot of preshure onto the wound. It was the only thing stopping her bleeding to death.

He pulled out the bandages and started to get to work as raven stood over him, covering him just in case. The gun fire from the Rangers came to a holt, the house was full of holes, if anything was alive it would be amazing. Pathfinder 2 was now in the process of going in, room by room.

After about 10 minutes came the all clear, but Ishi wasnt doing so good.

"contact eyes, tell them we got wounded and are coming stright back. Fuck the looting" Haless said.

The Grand Duke of The Grand duchy Of Toremal hereby declares his most enthusiastic support for the Republic of Estovakia, though not for some of its policies.

Russkyan Observer Detatchment
MGen Heidelmann, 2nd Division, Estovakia

Sir,
- My Observer Detatchment consists of approximately two hundred and fifty VDV (Air-Assault Troops) operating with L-16 "Vixen" vehicles - if not familiar with this design, think of an upgunned Canadian LAV-III - instead of the Russkyan Army Aviation Assualt Helicopter and Transport Helicopter Squadrons. Recently the unit has been reinforced with an Anti-Armour and Air Defence Company, and while forced by diplomacy in the SFR region to remain at this size, my Detatchment has been authorized to conduct military operations of an offensive or defensive nature in support of Estovakian forces in the region. It is my preference that the Observer Detatchment operate alongside your 2nd Division. If nessecary, the trade of liasons would make our lives easier as we attempt to coordinate. As you are no doubt aware, my force is currently dug in overlooking two villages and a wide expanse of land, at the enclosed GPS Reference. We are conducting combat and recce patrols to the North, South, and East. Will await your response.

Regards,
- Captain Iltchenko.

From: Maj. General Heidelmann, 2nd Division
To: Captain Iltchenko

It is to my knowledge that you have sent a messanger to deliver a message. Unfortunately partisan soldiers have shot at your messanger. He is not dead, and is expected to fully recover from his wounds, however it is my duty to report the status of an allied soldier in Estovakian care so as to make your government aware that your messanger is not AWOL or MIA.

We have received your message, and I have fowarded the message to General Tate, commander of the 1st Army himself.



From: General Tate
To: Captain Iltchenko

I must take time out to thank your government and you brave soldiers in assisting us during the humanitarian mission. As you may have already known, 300,000 civilians have died as a result of the civl war and in-fighting, or approximately 2% of the population. It is vital that we continue the mission and accept most gratefully your wish to operate alongside with us. We accept most graciously your help.

The 2nd Division is currently occupying the NW of Estonavia. They are conducting mop-up operations, so it shouldn't be to hard on your men. It should be rather quiet. The II Corps is taking the brunt right now. It is pushing into the center of the country. However it is slowed down as guerilla tactics, snipers, mines, and landslides triggered by explosives continue to harass our men.

There is also another problem. Unfortunately, there are only three bridges capable of supporting armor and vehicles across the River Mishin. These bridges are not only in rebel hands, but are wired to explode and therefore taking it makes it extremely difficult.

There is one bridge about 12km east of your position supporting Highway 10. As partisans keep relaying positions about my troops, it makes it impossible to launch a surprise attack capable of taking the bridge whole. If it is not too much to ask, would it be possible for you to take part in capturing the bridge?

The plan is that, should you choose to accept, we would supply your troops with rubber, inflatable boats. Around the dark of night, around 0100 hrs, you would land 5km north of the bridge and make your way through dense foilage and without being detected. Around 0300 hrs you would engage the rebels with your flank attack (since they are expecting an attack from the west not the north) and surprise them. We are hoping that you would then be able to make your way to the bridge and either disconnect or destroy the detonation device. Estovakian recon and patrol units would then be able to cross the bridge to support your unit while engineers disarm the explosives on the bridge. Meanwhile, mechanized infantry with IFVs and APCs would then cross the bridge to relieve your forces.

It is up to your government and yourself however. I will not order you to accept this mission and will not think any less of your men if they don't want to do so.

Sincerely,
General Tate

OOC: Estovakia i noticed on the map that Estovania is near the sea...is there any Port towns/cities that a Freighter or some form of ship can dock at to unload the "cargo" or will i have to RP it that the Cargo was driven though X nation to the border for my troops to pick the "cargo" up?

OOC: Everything would have to be flown in or driven in. No nation except Estovakia is officially supporting any action taken in Estonavia (though Estovania is now mobilizing its armed forces and Stovakistan has increased its military awareness level)

Central Sector

Sergeant Alvarado was walking carefully. Several men had stepped on hidden land mines or were shot by snipers. Alvarado would have liked to have thought that he was magical and impervious to hurt. Unfortuntely, he knew, that was not the case.

These bastards are really pulling out the tricks.

Alvarado looked up. Above him, cliffs of rock and boulders loomed over the road he was walking on.

I have a very, very bad feeling about-

His thoughts were interupted by a very loud, very close explosion. He didn't know where it was until he felt sprinkles of dirt on his shoulders. He looked up and saw what appeared to be the end of the world. The skies were black with dirt and rock, which came raining down amongst the soldiers.

"Shit, shit, SHIT!!!" he yelled, yet nobody could hear him. Boulders came crashing down on the APCs in front of him. he couldn't see it but he could hear the awful grating of the metal and rock colliding into each other. A fairly large rock tumbled down the mountain and hit his head. His sight rapidly failed him as it turned to black and he fell to the ground.

Updated map of Estovakian Advance

Western Estonavia:
http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/invasion1a.bmp

OOC: A little background info on the Peninsula

IC:

Current Conflicts on the Stovakian Peninsula

http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/estovakiapenninconflict.bmp

1. (Stovadonia)– The Stovadonian government has been heavily supported by the Estovanian government and after the recent elections, pro-Estovanians took power with 77% of the popular vote. One of the Stovadonian government’s first jobs was to sign a Mutual Protection Pact, making Stovadonia a solid Estovanian Pact nation.

2. (Stoczania)- While elections aren’t until April, the Pro-Estovakian government is expected to get more seats, and many politicians and people are pro-annexation, being that the huge majority of the people are ethnically similar to Estovakians. The government has already signed a Mutual Protection Pact and has sent troops to Estovakian military camps for training. Stoczania is a solid ally of Estovakia.

3. (Walladonia)- Walladonians are sympathetic to Stovakistan and are close allies, however, Walladonia has also declared that it will not send military support, and has signed Non-Aggression Pacts with Estovania and the Stovakian Union. Pro-Estovakians have gained some government seats in Walladonia, however, it is not enough to influence the government.

4. (Palledonia)- Palledonia is located in-between Stovakistan and the Stovakian Union. It is therefore heavily influenced by both and the government is deadlocked between pro-Stovakistanis and pro-Stovakians. The people are also heavily deadlocked and ethnic and political tensions have been tense, and have led to violence in this volatile country.

5. (Stovacea)- While Stovecea has proclaimed its neutrality, the Stovakian Union, whose influence has waned in the last thirty years, has attempted to gain influence in the government and the country. The attempt has worked rather well and the majority of the people do support the Stovakian Union, however, a considerable minority also supports Estovania and Stovakistan. Thus while the country is Stovakian-aligned, it is not fully committed to the Union and is very volatile.

6. (Estonavia)- Estonavia is also a central nation and critical nation in the ongoing strife. Therefore, while it tries to remain neutral, billions of dollars have been funneled in by Estovakia, Estovania, Stovakistan, and The Stovakian Union, as well as allied nations of each. The people are heavily polarized and separated between themselves and ongoing violence in the country between pro-Stovakistanis, Estovakians, Estovanians, Stovakians, and hardcore nationalists have plunged the nation into a civil war. The region is the most volatile on the whole peninsula and since no clear winner has emerged, the violence will only continue.

7. (East Stovacea)- This region, formed by parts of western Stovakistan and The Stovakian Union, has been the center of ethnic strife in the region for decades. Provinces in this region are under revolt, and both governments continually send in troops to pacify the region, which wants independence. The conflict has been used as an excuse for both the Stovakistani military and Stovakian military to cross each others borders, thus further escalating conflict.

8. (Stavidistanya)- The region, which consists of parts of Estovakia, Estovania, and neutral Wacallonia, is a very volatile region, with every mercenary army, rogue general, bandit, mafia, and thug imaginable roaming the countryside, taking advantage of a weak government and ethnic strife to keep the region semi-independent of its owners. Pro-Estovakian militias have been encouraged to attack Estovania, and Estovanians constantly funnel money to Separatist and terrorist groups through this region into Estovakia to achieve its ends. The region is under total anarchy and while perhaps a tiny bit more stable than Estonavia due to the presence of the Estovakian and Estovanian armies, it is definitely more gruesome.

9. (Upper Estovakia)- Due to illegal immigration, many in the region are xenophobic and thus racial tensions exist. Pro-autonomy politicians have gained seats in regional governments, despite being banned by the government. Thus, the military maintains a permanent presence in the region, although no violence or public discontent has occurred yet.

10. (Isles of Stovakistan)- The revival of nationalist feelings in the peninsula has carried to the islands. The islands, having been taken over 200 years ago, have revived their old national identity and protest daily on the streets for independence. Though the opportunity for destabilization exists, the islanders have not engaged in violent acts, do not seem to plan to, and otherwise are rather averagely loyal people.

11. (Stovakian-Stovakistani Border)- While both nations hold similar values, the ethnic problems and strain of both of the nations is evident as small incidents of violence occur between citizens of one nation, and the border police of the other.

12. (Neutralia)- Neutralia is a small, neutral nation off the coast of the peninsula. Since it is not connected to the peninsula, the islanders do not feel like they are of the same people as on the peninsula and care very little for any side. However, it is a stopping port for both Estovakians and Stovakistanis, and besides the small brawls between sailors, the Estovakian Navy consistently makes a presence in the area.

13. (West Stovakian Union)- The Stovakian Union, though strong, has had its influence on the peninsula wane due to globalization and the increasing Estovakian influence. Many in the western regions of the nation do not feel nationalistic, and are increasingly pacifist, electing pacifist politicians and blocking military escorts or convoys in the region. Many, having remembered the Great Peninsular War just 50 years ago, which was fought primarily in that region, have had enough of the conflict on the peninsula and constantly undermine the army in that area.

14. (Stovak Sea)- Estovania and the Stovakian Union constantly fight over fishing rights and sea boundaries. Both nations send naval ships to harass fishing ships of the other nation and the lack of a recognized boundary has led to small conflicts in the past. The recent discovery of a small oil deposit in that region has increasingly raised tensions.

15. (Island of North Estovania)- Like Neutralia, the islanders do not feel like they are of the same people as on the peninsula and care very little for any side. They are neutral, however, the lack of an effective government has meant that pirates, thugs, and illegal organizations have found a home on the island, supplying arms, soldiers, and money to many of the volatile regions and is a major cause for the fighting between the countries.

To government of North Estovania

We will be setting up a small naval and airbase on your island. We are willing to pay 12 billion dollars for a few acres. Engineers are en route.
Thank you,
Chancellor Lucius Blackhelm

From: Maj. General Heidelmann, 2nd Division
To: Captain Iltchenko

It is to my knowledge that you have sent a messanger to deliver a message. Unfortunately partisan soldiers have shot at your messanger. He is not dead, and is expected to fully recover from his wounds, however it is my duty to report the status of an allied soldier in Estovakian care so as to make your government aware that your messanger is not AWOL or MIA.

We have received your message, and I have fowarded the message to General Tate, commander of the 1st Army himself.

T/ MGen Heidelmann
F/ Cpt. Iltchenko

We appreciate the notification and request that he be evac'd to the logistics field serviced by Russkyan aircraft so he may be lifted back to the military hospitals in Russkya. At the same time, any of your severely wounded personnel - or any wounded personnel at all for that matter, who cannot be treated adaquetely in the field or in our forward positions - may benefit from the same offer if you so choose. That is to say, they can be lifted back to PSR Russkya for top-grade care, and will be returned to your country once convalesced or at the patient's wishes.


The 2nd Division is currently occupying the NW of Estonavia. They are conducting mop-up operations, so it shouldn't be to hard on your men. It should be rather quiet. The II Corps is taking the brunt right now. It is pushing into the center of the country. However it is slowed down as guerilla tactics, snipers, mines, and landslides triggered by explosives continue to harass our men.

There is also another problem. Unfortunately, there are only three bridges capable of supporting armor and vehicles across the River Mishin. These bridges are not only in rebel hands, but are wired to explode and therefore taking it makes it extremely difficult.

There is one bridge about 12km east of your position supporting Highway 10. As partisans keep relaying positions about my troops, it makes it impossible to launch a surprise attack capable of taking the bridge whole. If it is not too much to ask, would it be possible for you to take part in capturing the bridge?

The plan is that, should you choose to accept, we would supply your troops with rubber, inflatable boats. Around the dark of night, around 0100 hrs, you would land 5km north of the bridge and make your way through dense foilage and without being detected. Around 0300 hrs you would engage the rebels with your flank attack (since they are expecting an attack from the west not the north) and surprise them. We are hoping that you would then be able to make your way to the bridge and either disconnect or destroy the detonation device. Estovakian recon and patrol units would then be able to cross the bridge to support your unit while engineers disarm the explosives on the bridge. Meanwhile, mechanized infantry with IFVs and APCs would then cross the bridge to relieve your forces.

It is up to your government and yourself however. I will not order you to accept this mission and will not think any less of your men if they don't want to do so.


T/ Gen Tate
F/ Cpt. Iltchenko

With respect, Russkyan forces typically prefer to be issued an operation and then carry it out according to their own capabilities and methods. In this case, our two methods would coincide - I will have a company of Combat Engineers flown in to support your operations should the bridges be blown; our Armoured Bridge Laying Vehicles should be more than capable of spanning this river. Recce patrols have encountered this area before, and we believe it is possible to take the bridge in short order.

I will begin assigning forces to the operation. After completing this mission, my units will support 2nd Division in mopping-up operations to the NW.

General, it is my belief that at least two bridges will be in your hands relatively soon.

Regards,
- Captain Iltchenko.

OOC:
- I will start writing the "River Mishin Bridges" segment as soon as possible and post it up when complete. I take it I have your permission to ruthlessly slaughter partisans and any Estonavian forces guarding the bridges?

A recently promoted Major Iltchenko ran his hand over the new insignias sown onto his battledress uniform jacket, and looked out the flaps of the CHQ tent he was currently standing in, hunched over the map-table with his junior officers and senior NCOs, as the newly-arrived Engineering Company rolled into the base. Their vehicles sported some cosmetic damage - chipped paint from bullet-strikes and the like - from Partisan activity, and one of the machines was towing another; disabled by an RPG strike suffered in an ambush. Six high-powered radios were sitting at the back of the tent, and a pair of communication specialists switched frequencies, and talked into their headsets, sometimes taking notes with a rapidly-moving pencil on sheets of paper, relaying orders to units in the field, and recieving SITREPs, LOCREPs, and other missives from these deployed troops as well.

One of Iltchenko's Operations Staff picked a note out of the upraised hand of one of the communication specialists, and handed it directly to Iltchenko before going back to the map of the base and the surrounding five square kilometers he was studying. That map showed two markers, designating I2A and I2E, conducting combat patrols throughout the nearby area to rout any partisans that might have infiltrated back in since the last series of patrols.

The Recce Platoon was recently re-equipped, and now sported four L-16CRVs, designated V1 to V4. These "Victors" were all in the field, scouting the routes the Russkyans would take, engaging any forward Partisan observers they located, and Victor Four was actually overlooking the objective, the solidly-constructed bridge that serviced Highway 10, and was the Russkyan objective.

In the CHQ tent, the plan was devised, checked, modified as needed, and re-checked. V4 and V3 recieved new orders, carried them out, reported the results that were exactly what the Operations Staff were hoping to hear, and one of the battle-staff whooped - hideously inappropriate, but his enthusiasm was justified. The watch on his wrist read 19.48 hours, local time.

Little more was left to do than distribute the orders, and prep for the mission. Troops checked and re-checked their gear, especially their night-vision equipment. The L-16 crews went over every inch of their vehicle, and anything that showed the slightest fault was immediately stripped down and repaired, or replaced. Hopefully the Estovakians would arrive with the nessecary equipment, and soon, as the Engineering Company had not brought the assault boats that would normally be used by Russkyan troops.

OOC: ahh now i see, fair do's i will edit my orginal post shortly.
Where my Outpost/Runway is (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v378/corpsac/CorporateLocation.jpg)
IC:-

Stovacea Border, 12 Klicks from CSF Outpost/Runway


8 Large trucks stood waiting at the side of the just over the border to Stovacea, on them housed the 7 Wraith Jets, Ammo, fuel, the ground crews for each jet and the pilots and something that the Merc's didnt know about. Crates of MP4 Talon Sub-Machine Gun, totaling to 10,000 units with Ammo, these were to be sold to "Loyal" Rebal forces in the area.

The trucks were parked on the side of the dirt road, each one had travaled from a different part of the Stovakian Peninsula, bribes and favors were called in to get the trucks here with out much fuss. There was ment to be 9 trucks but one of them got stoped and searched, wasnt good since it was carrying RPG's, SMGs and other weapons, aswell as Supplies for the Merc's. It was lucky the weapons and supplies couldnt be traced, still tho it was a blow.

Ivan stood leaning on his truck at the lead of the convoy with a few of the other Drivers, he was smoking as he spoke to the other drivers.

"god dam it there late, Hey Jack i hear your girlfriend just had a kid?" Ivan said as he stood there.

"ya, twins. I cant wait to get back to see them. Tho this is my last job....saved just anough to get out of the job. over 900 Million in the bank." Jack replyed as he looked around.

"good for you man, im planning to stay in for aslong as i live or can" Ivan replyed. Ivan was a large man, he was a member of the Black Hand Merc's, one of the more....heavyer units.

"ya, thats you ivan...thats you." Jack replyed, turning to look at Ivan as he chuckled.

From over the horizone, in the direction of Estonavia, it sounded like a convoy of some form.

"at fucking last" Ivan said, the Spartens came into view at a distance.


AS the Platoon came over, lead by Major Sasha herself, they saw the trucks parked at the side of the road. "ok, 2nd squad, stay here keep an eye out i dont want to get jumped. 3rd Squad take the rear, 4th your with mean, set up a Perimeter around the trucks." Sasha ordered over the radio.

She looked round the hold where the other Black Hand merc's in her elite unit sat there. Each wearing the CSF armor supplyed by the Shadow Corporation, each with the black hand Merc unit insignia. Each of the troops in full gear, only the IFF system in her headset told her who was who.

The ICV's came to a stop, the doors opened as she and her squad jumped out, she looked around at the barran ground. She shook her head as she walked over to the trucks.

She Saluted Ivan, who inturn returned the greeting.

"so you made it then Ivan?" Sasha said.

"ya well, a civil war is somthing i can never miss. Anyway its all here...well most of it. 7 jets, Crews and pilots, ammo, etc etc. One of the Trucks didnt make it tho, it was carrying meny of the supplies sent for you guys. Also that truck at the back is the "delivery" for some rebal forces." Ivan replyed as he pointed it out. "so where to?" he asked.

"12 Klicks Northwest, my Battlion has set up cheak points all the way there. Jasons Recon Platoon have been out scouting the area. The Pathfinders took a hit tho." Sasha replyed.

"shit..who?" Ivan replyed.

"Ishi" Sasha said, "she got hit in the chest...dam unlucky, her armor stoped most of the rounds but..."

"nothings perfect." Ivan replyed, "anyway best get going, i take it the 3 ICV's are leading the way" he said in a sarcastic voice.

"watch it" sasha replyed with a smile. She headed back to her unit bording the ICV's. "Move out" she ordered.

The convoy was off, 1 Sparten at the back to cover the rear, 2 at the front and one that was far ahead as a forward scout. Safetys were off, the unit was ready for any fight.

Several unassuming civilian trucks headed toward the Russkyan troops. Or it would have been, had they not been guarded by two UAZs with MG3s attached and with headlamps off. In any case, as soon as the civilian trucks pulled up to the Russkyan forces a soldier, Estovakian, got out of the second truck and approached the Russkyan sentries.

"Tell your commander that the RIBs have arrived. Any necessary equipment should be located in these trucks. My men will help unload them. We have somebody who is ordered to accompany you all." The soldier gestured to a man who had since gotten out of the same cab that the current Estovakian soldier had gotten out of.

"This is Lt. Slyusarj. He is supposed to be a liason. This man is part of the Black Guard. He's stiff and bored and ready for action and he knows his stuff. He will be carrying a sat-phone so as to call in anything you may need."

Lt. Slyusarj stepped forward. "Greetings. I have a message to deliver to the Captain when he wishes to see me."

(The Message reads: )

[Estovakian Medical Corps Official Document]

CONFIDENTIAL MEDICIAL DOCUMENT




IF LOST PLEASE CONTACT ESTOVAKIAN MEDICIAL CORPS PERSONNEL IMMEDITAELY. THEFT OR ILLEGAL POSSESSION OF SUCH DOCUMENTS IS PUNISHABLE UNDER THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW.



From: Captain Rubio, 47th Medical Detachment, Estovakian Medical Corps
To: Captain Iltchenko

As chief surgeon under the 47th Medical Detachment, it is my duty to look after those that are injured. You may have heard that we are heavily occupied with casualties because of a landslide triggered by explosives rebels placed to slow down and destory Estovakian vanguard advances,although I have had time and I have taken the liberty to personally inspect your fellow soldier.

I am glad to say that the bullet wound he encountered on his LEFT ARM was not fatal or ruinous. On the contrary, the bullet wound does not appear to be dangerous and did not damage any major or significant area of his body. The wound was caused by a bullet grazing that almost caught in his skin, and while causing significant pain, your soldier moaned and groaned more over his temporary reprieve from fighting than the injury itself. If every Russkyan soldier is as strong and dedicated as the one I have treated, I certainly feel sorry for any opposing soldier that you will ever face.

The wound was dressed and cleaned to prevent infection. However, he is combat ready and will be delivered on the next convoy out of Fort Pugachev at 0700 hrs tommorrow.

OOC: ahh now i see, fair do's i will edit my orginal post shortly.
Where my Outpost/Runway is (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v378/corpsac/CorporateLocation.jpg)
IC:-

Stovacea Border, 12 Klicks from CSF Outpost/Runway


8 Large trucks stood waiting at the side of the just over the border to Stovacea, on them housed the 7 Wraith Jets, Ammo, fuel, the ground crews for each jet and the pilots and something that the Merc's didnt know about. Crates of MP4 Talon Sub-Machine Gun, totaling to 10,000 units with Ammo, these were to be sold to "Loyal" Rebal forces in the area.

The trucks were parked on the side of the dirt road, each one had travaled from a different part of the Stovakian Peninsula, bribes and favors were called in to get the trucks here with out much fuss. There was ment to be 9 trucks but one of them got stoped and searched, wasnt good since it was carrying RPG's, SMGs and other weapons, aswell as Supplies for the Merc's. It was lucky the weapons and supplies couldnt be traced, still tho it was a blow.

Ivan stood leaning on his truck at the lead of the convoy with a few of the other Drivers, he was smoking as he spoke to the other drivers.

"god dam it there late, Hey Jack i hear your girlfriend just had a kid?" Ivan said as he stood there.

"ya, twins. I cant wait to get back to see them. Tho this is my last job....saved just anough to get out of the job. over 900 Million in the bank." Jack replyed as he looked around.

"good for you man, im planning to stay in for aslong as i live or can" Ivan replyed. Ivan was a large man, he was a member of the Black Hand Merc's, one of the more....heavyer units.

"ya, thats you ivan...thats you." Jack replyed, turning to look at Ivan as he chuckled.

From over the horizone, in the direction of Estonavia, it sounded like a convoy of some form.

"at fucking last" Ivan said, the Spartens came into view at a distance.


AS the Platoon came over, lead by Major Sasha herself, they saw the trucks parked at the side of the road. "ok, 2nd squad, stay here keep an eye out i dont want to get jumped. 3rd Squad take the rear, 4th your with mean, set up a Perimeter around the trucks." Sasha ordered over the radio.

She looked round the hold where the other Black Hand merc's in her elite unit sat there. Each wearing the CSF armor supplyed by the Shadow Corporation, each with the black hand Merc unit insignia. Each of the troops in full gear, only the IFF system in her headset told her who was who.

The ICV's came to a stop, the doors opened as she and her squad jumped out, she looked around at the barran ground. She shook her head as she walked over to the trucks.

She Saluted Ivan, who inturn returned the greeting.

"so you made it then Ivan?" Sasha said.

"ya well, a civil war is somthing i can never miss. Anyway its all here...well most of it. 7 jets, Crews and pilots, ammo, etc etc. One of the Trucks didnt make it tho, it was carrying meny of the supplies sent for you guys. Also that truck at the back is the "delivery" for some rebal forces." Ivan replyed as he pointed it out. "so where to?" he asked.

"12 Klicks Northwest, my Battlion has set up cheak points all the way there. Jasons Recon Platoon have been out scouting the area. The Pathfinders took a hit tho." Sasha replyed.

"shit..who?" Ivan replyed.

"Ishi" Sasha said, "she got hit in the chest...dam unlucky, her armor stoped most of the rounds but..."

"nothings perfect." Ivan replyed, "anyway best get going, i take it the 3 ICV's are leading the way" he said in a sarcastic voice.

"watch it" sasha replyed with a smile. She headed back to her unit bording the ICV's. "Move out" she ordered.

The convoy was off, 1 Sparten at the back to cover the rear, 2 at the front and one that was far ahead as a forward scout. Safetys were off, the unit was ready for any fight.

Southeast Sector

"NightFox. Come in NightFox." A lone radio called softly.

A figure, recognizable only because it moved, reached for a small radio. "Yeah, this is NightFox."

"What do you see?"

"Weird things." NightFox reached for his sniper rifle and looked down the scope. He zoomed in carefully until he could clearly make out the faces of soldiers. "Looks like a weapon convoy of some sort. Looks like SIGCorps was right. We have a few high-tech jets, some trucks carrying some sort of weapons I wager, and soldiers, not militia."

"What kind of soldiers?"

"Hard to tell. Hold on a sec." NightFox put down his sniper rifle and took out his long distance camera. He zoomed in and found an arm patch on one of the soldiers. He took a shot of the arm patch."

"I'll send you a picture of an arm patch I saw. I don't know who it belongs to right now, but when you guys get the pic you can analyze it."

"Roger. For now, keep going. Will initiate radio silence in 5 minutes. Anything else you need before we do so?"

"No." NightFox replied.

"Over and out then."

NightFox picked up his sniper rifle and zoomed in again. He could see soldiers picking up crates and dropping them off. Over and over again.

Boring!

Nightfox instead focused on the front entrance. Somebody- who ever it was- was trying to get in. She-it was a she- was noticably good looking even from the far distance. She seemed in place and perfectly calm as if she was walking in park. NightFox thought that who ever they were on the ground were lucky. However, he realized that she was not one of theirs. It was obvious the sentries were not expecting her as they seemed confused over her presense. She was trying to get into the compound. Whoever it is is not with them for sure. But who the hell is she? Who the hell are they?

NightFox did not know the answers. He could only crouch and wait.

OOC: Somebody is approaching your base.

Several unassuming civilian trucks headed toward the Russkyan troops. Or it would have been, had they not been guarded by two UAZs with MG3s attached and with headlamps off. In any case, as soon as the civilian trucks pulled up to the Russkyan forces a soldier, Estovakian, got out of the second truck and approached the Russkyan sentries.

"Tell your commander that the RIBs have arrived. Any necessary equipment should be located in these trucks. My men will help unload them. We have somebody who is ordered to accompany you all." The soldier gestured to a man who had since gotten out of the same cab that the current Estovakian soldier had gotten out of.

"This is Lt. Slyusarj. He is supposed to be a liason. This man is part of the Black Guard. He's stiff and bored and ready for action and he knows his stuff. He will be carrying a sat-phone so as to call in anything you may need."

Lt. Slyusarj stepped forward. "Greetings. I have a message to deliver to the Captain when he wishes to see me."


"Lieutenant Slyusarj, this way, please. I will take you to the CHQ. My Lieutenant will see to the RIBs."

The soldier - a corporal - tilted his head to the left, slightly, and pressed his left hand against the headphone of the PRR headset he wore.

"Inside the wire comrades, and quickly."

Behind him, the fire-controller of a machinegun crew with their PKM fixed on the sustained fire tripod began chanting:

"Elevation Zero-Three-Zero; Azimuth Two-Niner-Niner. Set?"
"Set!"
"Fire!"

Approximately a kilometer away, spotted by powerful optics, a group of Partisans walking on a roadway were assailed by machinegun fire. The rounds arrived with no noise - if one looked into the distance, they might see the muzzle flash of the machinegun, but the belt was loaded with no tracers. At this distance, the weapon's report was faint, and couldn't be heard over the sound of the cars idling in that village behind them, and only the slight noise of the rounds whistling in on the target heralded the men's deaths.

A second machinegun opened fire, adding its rounds to the carnage on the road, and the fire-controller on this side of the peremiter wire ordered the cease-fire. A partisan, sporting a broken leg and a series 7.62x54R rounds in his belly, screamed. At the Russkyan peremiter, it was not audible. The fire-controller congratulated both machinegun teams on their kills.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Slyusarj was conducted inside the wire with the Estovakian convoy. Major Iltchenko, promoted not ten hours ago, saw him at once, starting with a cordial greeting and the offer of fine Russkyan vodka, served in a tumbler sporting the VDV Divisions' insignia and number. The Major grinned at the message's contents, both pleased with the light wounds suffered and the VDV man's reported behaviour. He resolved to have several crates of vodka shipped to the 47th Medical Det, and one earmarked for Captain Rubio - Iltchenko told Slyusarj as much.

The RIBs were transferred from the Estovakian trucks to the Russkyan vehicles, and Russkyan and Estovakian troops shared a few minutes connivality before the operation was to begin. The time was 22.00; dark, but not yet time.

At the peremiter wire, the Corporal held his AKS-74M in a familiar grip, wondering exactly what Black Guard was. He thought they may be equivalent to the Russkyan Spetsnaz, and grinned. He thought they might be equivalent to the Russkyan Naval Spetsnaz, and shuddered. He hoped it wouldn't rain - the latter were always said to arrive during a rainstorm. No-one deserved that terror, not even those who had killed a handful of the Corporal's comrades.

At the peremiter wire, the Corporal held his AKS-74M in a familiar grip, wondering exactly what Black Guard was. He thought they may be equivalent to the Russkyan Spetsnaz, and grinned. He thought they might be equivalent to the Russkyan Naval Spetsnaz, and shuddered.

OOC: Errr... just pretend that you have a volume somewhere, somehow.



"Originally the Estovakian Army was divided into four guards: the Orange Guard (represented by orange triangle arm patch), the Blue Guard (represented by blue square arm patch), the Red Guard (represented by red circle arm patch), and the White Guard (otherwise known as the "Honor Guard"). Today there are only two guards: The Black Guards and the White Guards (or Honor Guards). The Red Guard was disbanded due to Communist connotations, the Orange Guard reorganized into the Colonial Army, and the Blue Guard became the current Estovakian Army.

"Being in the Orange, Blue, and Red Guards depended on what region one was part of. If you were in the Red Guard you were from the center or the west of the country, the Blue Guard meant the north, while the Orange Guard meant the east and any foreign soldiers. The White Guard was a crack unit. Highly trained, motivated, and equiped they represented the cream of Estovakia's military forces. They were the select few and the best of the best. They were handpicked from elite units to become the ultra elite. They were once regarded as the best special forces on the peninsula.

"However, during Estovakia's civil war, the White Guard was the only guard unit to support the democratic government. Therefore, when the Fascist government won in the late 90s, the White Guard, whom the fascists so viciously fought, were at odds with the government. Emperor Max realized that the White Guard still had sympathy to the old cause and felt the White Guard could not be trusted. The White Guard's duties included protecting the president and acting as bodyguards, but because of their sympathies, could the Emperor trust the White Guard especially since they once fought to kill him?

"The Emperor decided to create a Guard based lossely on other fascist forces. Based off Mussolini's Blackshirts, the Black Guard was created to be an elite unit not much different from the German SS. It is separate from the military like the SS and is a political branch (it also contains the secret police) not an official military branch. It is under the personal control of the Emperor, although during engagements the military uses them at the behest of the emperor unless given specific orders.

"The Black Guard represent Estovakian's military elite, and functions much like the American Ranger, American Force Recon, British SAS, paratroopers, and marine corps of other nations. They also function as the emperor's personal bodyguards. The White Guard fulfills the role of a Delta Force or SEAL team. Unlike the SS, however, the Black Guard cannot and does not engage in illegal practices or genocide (murdering based on race is punishable by death in Estovakia) and the Black Guard conforms fully to the Geneva Convention.

"There are rumors of a 'Unit 407', which is supposedly a platoon of handpicked men and women from around the world representing the best of the best of the best, and fulfilling a 'super elite' role. However, there is no proof of this unit's existance."

OOC:

Kickass. I like it. Chances are, the VDV Corporal wouldn't know about that volume, but we would have it on hand in one of the Russkyan Military Academies. (Typically Officer-country, but hey.) He'd probably know it if Estovakia was part of the SFR, but at this point the enlisted guys wouldn't be so familiar as to know the military histories of their allies.

To H-Town Tejas and Estovania

The Estovanian government is hiding criminals who have killed 17 Exponential soldiers. All we ask is that you surrender these men, and our strike group will pull back.

You have a big mouth for somebody who just torched an entire village to kill, what, 20 rebels? We once again demand you withdraw your ships from Estovanian waters. Our soldiers will leave Estovania and return to Tejas if you simply get out of Estovania's face. Your beef is not with them.

Mikel Aritza, PRH-TT Foreign Minister

To H-town Tejas

We will withdraw our forces from Estovanian waters if you pledge to no longer support rebels in Estonavia

To H-town Tejas

We will withdraw our forces from Estovanian waters if you pledge to no longer support rebels in Estonavia

That is fine with us.

Mikel Aritza, PRH-TT Foreign Minister

Secret IC: NEW FUKUOKA, PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF H-TOWN TEJAS

Chairman Nagaraku looked at the letter to Exponent. He snickered a bit. He knew Mikel hadn't gone that soft.
"We're clear that we will do no such thing, huh?" he said.
"Yeah," Mikel said, "It just won't involve Estovania next time."

The atack group was called back. Exponent air patrols had increased, and the border with Estovania was placed under constant surveilance.Any vehicle passing over the border was thoroughly searched by Honor Guard, and if seen smuggling weapons, the drivers were immediatly shot, buried in a shallow grave, and their vehicles torched.

-SNIP-

OOC: Somebody is approaching your base.


OOC: i will post tomorrow when i have had some sleep (A decent nights sleep), just wondering if this person aproching my base is expected by the Marshal or storyline based person or...well if not then the Standard Procedure will be used (look confussed then shot them)

OOC: i will post tomorrow when i have had some sleep (A decent nights sleep), just wondering if this person aproching my base is expected by the Marshal or storyline based person or...well if not then the Standard Procedure will be used (look confussed then shot them)

OOC: Well, I would prefer if you didn't kill the person. However, when I RP, every character that I introduce into a RP has the possability to get killed. I never have reservations about the death of any character primarily because like in RL, not every one lives. I usually RP as I go along and therefore there really is no true storyline per se, as I leave it pretty open ended based on other people's actions. I introduced people monitoring your base primarily because you were in the Eastern part of the country all by your lonesome with no other nation interacting with you, and I didn't want you to feel like you were being ignored.

In other words, I didn't intend for the character to die. However, if Standard Operating Procedure is to always shoot on sight, it'd be kind of stupid for an exception now of all times, wouldn't it? Therefore, I don't care too much what happens.

OOC: Either assume you received the message, intercepted it, or otherwise found out about the information somehow.

Estovakian Intelligence and Signal Corps

From: Colonel Metzger
To: Lieutenant General Weiss and our allies

Radio intercepts, satellite imagery, and HumIT has revealed troubling news.

Scattered radio intercepts from Stovakistan and eastrern Estonavia confirm the presence of Stovakian special forces in the eastern end of the country. They are on claudestine operations in the area.

More troubling, Estovania has put three brigades on its southern border and has begun mobilizing its ground forces. Satellite imagery show extensive supply buildups, suggesting preparation for an offensive within the next 48 hours. Sources believe Estovania does not plan to attack occupying troops but rather the remainder of the country not occupied by Estovakian/allied troops. While a direct threat against assault is expected to be minimal, nonetheless the dividing of the nation will surely lead to future conflict and further polarization between the different groups in Estonavia. We must attempt to gather as much land as possible to keep the country as united as possible.

Estovakia wishes to prevent a penninsular war and does not want conflict with Estovania. it will not engage in any actions to prvent Estovania from intervening in the country as well. However, once they pull in, they will probably not pull out, especially so long as Estovakia occuipies it as well.

To: The Estovanian Republic

The soldiers leaving Estovania see that you are preparing for an invasion of Estonavia. We do not want to see another nation fall to fascism and can assist you. With your permission, we can move in the 90,000 soldiers of I Cuerpo del Ejercito to assist you.

Mikel Aritza, PRH-TT Foreign Minister

OOC:
- Sorry about the delay in the bridge operation, Estovakia. I will try to have it done sometime soon; I just have no idea when that might be. This intel on the Estovanians is not particularly joyous; Russkyan involvement may increase in size.

The Exponent satellites picked up the Estovanian build up as well. The small Exponent force gathered in their camp at Fort Hart, the Exponent base several miles ahead of Estovakian lines, and set up heavy fortifications. The Honor Guard went about blowing up bridges and laying mines and other traps along the roads. At sea, the attack group fired off its missiles towards the Estovanian forces. If they did not pull back, Exponent Carrier Group Manhattan was en route to aide the attack fleet.

The Exponent satellites picked up the Estovanian build up as well. The small Exponent force gathered in their camp at Fort Hart, the Exponent base several miles ahead of Estovakian lines, and set up heavy fortifications. The Honor Guard went about blowing up bridges and laying mines and other traps along the roads. At sea, the attack group fired off its missiles towards the Estovanian forces. If they did not pull back, Exponent Carrier Group Manhattan was en route to aide the attack fleet.

That was the last straw in Tejas.
"Attacks on Estovania because they MOBILIZED TROOPS! THIS IS INSANE!" Chairman Nagaraku said angrily.
"I'm not tolerating Exponent's shit anymore!" he continued, pacing behind his desk, "We're stopping it right now. Italo!"
"Yes, Chairman?" Chief of the Tejano People's Navy Italo Pellegrino said.
"Take the battleship Fujita, a flotilla of destroyers, and a flotilla of submarines into Estovanian waters and blow those damn fascists up! Saki!"
"Uh, yes, Chairman Nagaraku?" Chief of the TPA Saki Nakahara said, "What do you need?"
"Have I Cuerpo del Ejercito mobilized, just in case. We need to teach this fascist scum they can't just do as they fucking please!" Chairman Nagaraku said.

Carrier group Manhattan had arrived on seen, just in time to counter the Tejano fleet.
Carrier Group Manhattan
1 Nimitz Class Nuclear powered Carrier – The Chancellor
3 Ticonderoga class Guided missile cruisers
4 CGN-38 Virginia class cruisers
3 Arleigh Burke class guided missile destroyers
12 Littoral Combat Ship High Speed Surface ships
2 Frank S Besson class logistic support vessels
1 Wave Class Royal Fleet Auxiliary Large Fleet Tanker

The Ticonderogas and Arleigh Burke class ships launched dozens of cruise missiles at the Tejano battleship. On board The Chancellor, a small fleet of Lynx helicopters took to the skies to search for the subs, while 30 Yak-38 jets took off down the runway.

The Fujita's armor did a good job taking the bite out of the missiles, however, some of its sailors did die from the missile. Meanwhile, the battleship turned its six 18" guns and four 20" guns on the cruisers, while the twelve 14" guns and nine 16" guns were turned on the smaller missile destroyers. Finally, the battleship's 25 14.5mm antiair machine guns and antiair missiles were turned on the Yak-38s.
The Echo-class submarines all began firing their torpedoes at the carrier and the larger cruisers. They were relying on the AA destroyers to take out the helicopters looking to blow them up.
Finally, the destroyers began firing their AA missiles and 14.5mm AA machine guns began firing at the helicopters, while they also began firing their smaller guns at the logistics and refueling vessels.
The Tejano logistics and refueling vessels avoided the battle, while looking around for any ships that needed reloading/refueling.

OOC: I don't care how big of a battleship you have, it is not capable of eating 7 dozen cruise missiles. Also, I fired on your ships long before they were even in range of the jets. That is the beauty of cruise missiles, they shoot really really far, really really fast. That means we are still out of torpedo and turret range.

The Ticonderogas and Arleigh Burke class ships launched dozens of cruise missiles at the Tejano battleship. On board The Chancellor, a small fleet of Lynx helicopters took to the skies to search for the subs, while 30 Yak-38 jets took off down the runway.

ooc: Well, let's look at this. You never said anything about range. You never said anything about how many "dozens" you fired. For all I know, you fired two dozen missiles. Also, I find it a bit miraculous that a chunky aircraft carrier that goes 35 knots an hour at max could somehow come in to Estovanian waters and magically find the Tejano fleet, which was supposed to be just leaving Tejas, would probably be coming in from another direction, etc. So I guess that makes us even. I'll put in more damage, but you can't just say your fleets are totally immune while mine are screwed.

OOC: each ship can fire a dozen missiles at a time. Do you wanna just start over as if i have not yet attacked your fleet, your call.

ooc: Why not?

IC: The Fujita, 16 attack submarines, and 20 escort frigates floated through the calm waters around Estovania. The 65,000 ton Fujita carried 12 14" guns, along with 16 14.5mm KPV machine guns mounted in fours for antiair purposes. It wasn't very advanced, but the Tejanos had seen what it was capable of. It didn't really need to be. Half of the 5000 ton escort frigates were specialized for ASW, while the others were specialized for antiair. Five ammunition ships and three fleet oilers followed the group into Estovanian waters.
Benigno Alvarez stared over the railing of the massive ship. He was nonchalantly looking for the missile cruisers Exponent was using to bombard the shores of Estovania. As soon as those were gone, which, if everything went well, wouldn't be long, the Fujita could go back to Tejas.
"Benigno!"
Benigno turned around and saw one of the ensigns on the ship, a gringo who called himself Bob.
"Yes, sir?" he said.
"We've spotted something, get to the guns," he said.
"Sir, yes, sir!" Benigno said, running to the gun and climbing the ladder into it.

OOC: Well, I would prefer if you didn't kill the person. However, when I RP, every character that I introduce into a RP has the possability to get killed. I never have reservations about the death of any character primarily because like in RL, not every one lives. I usually RP as I go along and therefore there really is no true storyline per se, as I leave it pretty open ended based on other people's actions. I introduced people monitoring your base primarily because you were in the Eastern part of the country all by your lonesome with no other nation interacting with you, and I didn't want you to feel like you were being ignored.

In other words, I didn't intend for the character to die. However, if Standard Operating Procedure is to always shoot on sight, it'd be kind of stupid for an exception now of all times, wouldn't it? Therefore, I don't care too much what happens.

OOC: i will make an Exception, i'd rather get involved some how and this is the easy way, i was hoping someone was going to try and attack the convoy but meh.....since someone saw it arrive it dont matter....just need to think why this lass would be allowed into the base...anyway i will edit this post with my proper post....saves bogging down your thread with OOC posts.

Carrier group Manhattan was not yet in Estovanian waters, but satelite reports poured into the Command aboard the Chancellor, confirming that a fleet had been launched from Tejano. The flagship was a battleship, the Fujita. This was a must to destroy. Fleet Admiral Brightarrow read over the reports. "Have the Arleigh Burke's open up with their missiles. If they do not turn around, open up with the Ticonderoga's. Also, have the LCS's form a torpedo picket ahead of the fleet, and I want Lynx's ahead of the picket on sub patrol. Let's get moving people, we got a battle." As soon as the order was made, it was done, and 36 Tomahawk cruise missiles were soon bearing down on the Fujita. If this did not work, another 48 would be right behind.

Benigno had barely reached one of the guns when he heard the sound of incoming cruise missiles. The missiles weren't on his side of the boat, but he heard the missiles make contact with the Fujita's thick hull, followed by the delayed explosions (That's what naval cruise missiles do, by the way). The boat rocked, although that was all Benigno knew, as he was still in the turret.
"Alvarez!" one of the other seamen in the turret shouted, while starting to pick up a shell, "Help load the gun!"
"I know, I know," Benigno said, helping the others lift one of the gigantic shells and loading the turret.

Outside of the cramped world of one of the Fujita's turrets, things weren't faring nearly as well. One of the four turrets had two of its three 14" guns damaged beyond the point of firing. The hull was pockmarked where the Tomohawks had hit, and many of the sailors in the areas that weren't the thick hull where the missiles had hit were dead.
"Get the KPV's ready!" the captain said, "Maybe, if we're lucky, we can shoot a few out of the sky if they pull that again!"
The submarines and frigates turned towards the Exponential CAG. The frigates had their guns aimed at the small vessels ahead of them and their antiair guns aimed at the helis coming in. Funny, how the submarines had their own escorts.

"Looks like they aren't leaving. Keep the choppers above the picket, out of the enemies range of fire. I want a massed missile attack on the Fujita. And get some damned planes up after those frigates" the admiral ordered.

Moments later, the missile barrage opened up, launching 7 dozen missiles at the battleship. This was followed by a launch of 30 Yak-38 jets, heading for the frigates.

Operation "Stone Cross"
24.25 Local Time.
[OOC: About six, seven hours before word of the Estovanian buildup.]

--

It was a quiet night, with only a soft breeze rustling the high grasses and the bushes, and the camouflaged shapes of the Russkyan VDV men, their characteristic blue berets tucked into closed battledress uniform pockets, crept through the night. While perhaps not as stealthy as the recce men, who were either in superbly hidden OPs, or moving with a 'skirmish line' ahead of the main Russkyan fire-support & bridgehead assault party, tearing out the throats of partisan sentries, or double-tapping those heads with PSS "Silent Partner" handguns, provided for the purpose. And although the recce men were excellently camouflaged, they were not as expertly hidden - moving green-hued shadows that they were - as the Spetsnaz; although none were deployed. The Russkyan Military did place a rather high emphasis on being able to hide from at least visual detection in all training courses.

The heavily burdened machinegunners set down their weapons in an area secured by two sections of Desantnikii, bedding the tripods, fitting their PKM GPMGs to those, and fitting the sustained fire kits. Boxes of 7.62x54R belted ammunition were opened, fed into the weapons, and the bolts slowly eased forward by gloved hands, to reduce the distinctive noise of metal on metal. And as such, four PKMs, and eight gunners waited for the signal. The fire controller gave the best possible directions, and re-checked his radio link with Victor 3; V3 would be providing fire-adjustment.

And the remainder of the force was readying themselves. A platoon-sized 'battlegroup' waited in the tree-and-bush-produced shadows, their night optical devices (Night Vision Gear) painting a pretty picture indeed, of tired partisan sentries; soft, small-ish canvas tents, and a mere handful of Estonavian troops. Which was odd, given that the bridge services Highway 10, and would markedly help the Estovakian advance. Victor 2, also conducting recce on the bridge, noted with their more powerful optics - also night-vision capable - noted the larger Estonavian contingent on the far side of the bridge, and radioed that information back to India One Romeo, who was controlling Op Stone Cross.

--

O'Connor's section was waiting on the "friendly" bank of the river, a trio of dead Partisans laid out side by side with twin holes in their heads, except for one which had a gash on the side of his head from where one of the rounds had missed, the other having missed completely, and a disfiguring wound from a combat knife stretching across his neck. The kid was young; maybe seventeen. But he was dead now, and you can't get much older than that.

One of the Pioneers with the Engineering Platoon, more of a "Company" really, came back across the river on one of the Estovakian-supplied RIBs. To minimize noise, a pair of sturdy ropes had been stretched across the river, and the troops pulled themselves across, back and forth, two RIBs at a time, with a Pioneer in each craft, making sure the VDV men didn't accidentally tip the boat over, damage the rope, and in general, just helping with the task, as it was something they had trained for. A small cordon of Pioneers and VDV men on the other side provided security for up to 75 meters away from the 'landing site,' but so far, no contacts in the thick foliage.

--

01.15 Local Time

"All units, Romeo. Report your status, over."
Both responses were near simultaneous;
"Team One reports readiness, over."
"Team Two reports readiness, over."
"Fire support team says green, over."
"All units, at your discretion. Romeo out."

O'Connor fingered the trigger of the GP-25 slung under his AKS-74M's barrel, lining up the leaf sights on a small tent with a small flicker of flame to its front. The Senior Lieutenant to his left gave the signal, patting the shoulder of the PKM gunner on his belly with the tripod braced into the grass, and that weapon opened up, spitting rounds into the group of men nearest the bridge. Some sounds, like a cracked bell being struck, indicated that bullets were hitting the heavy bridge, the steel supports and parapets, primarily. Duller "thwacks" indicated rounds hitting concrete, and screaming showed that some fire was effective, scything down unready Estonavians and partisans alike. Two seconds later, O'Connor pulled that trigger, seeing a head jerk upright and rotate towards the machinegun through his sight, saw the flash of the grenade, didn't see or hear the shrapnel resulting, but did see the shapes around the fire slump - and unseen, in the tent - in all manner of undignified death by steel shards. He allowed the muzzle of his rifle to drop, and pulled the trigger, sending his contribution of lead out into the fray, a half-dozen 5.45x39mm rounds.

The machinegunners, meanwhile, opened fire. Victor Three radioed the appropriate adjustments to each gunner, and the machinegun fire lashed out and landed amongst the men on the near side of the bridge. An Estonavian light armoured vehicle detonated from an PG-7VR impacting the forward face, the molten copper and steel stream splashing inwards across the magazine and fuel and bursting the now-pierced hull like an egg in the microwave. It burnt brightly, and a thick plume of smoke rose in the air, although unseen through the Russkyan NODs / NVGs, and unnoticeable to the Estonavian or Partisan troops, whose few survivors were busily seeking cover from the maelstorm of incoming fire.

The Sn/LT waved forward two sections, who advanced from their positions, weapons up and ready, towards the bridge. The machineguns ceased fire, and as the VDV men entered the radius of light produced by the burning fires, and added to by the flares hastily shot up into the night sky by Estonavian regulars, the handful of survivors opened up on their now clearly visible attackers. Four of the sixteen men fell, three wounded, one severely, and one dead outright, because the round had gone under the brim of his helmet and transited front-to-back through his skull. At least that was a painless, if messy, death. Given by the screaming of one of the partisans, some of the deaths and wounds inflicted upon the bridge's guards were less than painless. The wounded Desantnik bellowed insults at the men who fired back at his comrades, and the same prenaturally-calm Platoon Designated Marksman toting his SVD-K rifle that had accompanied O'Connor earlier, knelt and fired his rifle once, then twice, and a third time, killing two men and wounding a fourth with a 9.3 slug that travelled through the tissue of his abdomen and fairly well exploded out the back after expanding and ripping a good portion of his intestines out of him as it left.

"Stoppage!"

One of the RPK-equipped men called out, racking the bolt. As it travelled backwards, it ejected the round and chambered a fresh one as it returned forwards, and as that round failed to fire, the gunner unloaded his weapon and locked the bolt backwards, performing a quick check in the dark while incoming weapons fire snapped overhead. The firing pin on his weapon had broken off, and he screamed this information - albeit punctuated with many expletives - across to his section leader.

--

01.23 Local Time

"So, Lieutenant Slyusarj, the bridge is ours now. Radio your comrades; it is time for them to advance. We will wait until daybreak to leave, when it is firmly in your hands."

I1R lifted a radio handset to his ear, thumbing the transmit key. He spoke a few words, and a small column - six, total - of L-16ISCs travelled at top speed down the road, hoping to use their speed advantage to blow through any hastily established ambushes by any surviving partisans, rolling up to the bridgehead, assuming hull down positions as quickly as possible, and using their powerful optics to scan the area with the surviving VDV men. A total tally of 15 casualties for the Russkyans; four dead, eleven wounded, five of those seriously enough to require a ride back to the logistics base inside Estovakian territory.

On the far side of the bridge, Ivan O'Connor rummaged through his rucksack inside the L-16ISC assigned to his section, finding a Russkyan combat ration and tearing open the foil package to get to the package of sliced peaches. He'd miss them in the morning, he knew, but he figured his section deserved a reward for their battle-skill in that nighttime fight, for only one of the lightly wounded belonged to his unit. He dug out a slice and popped it into his mouth, holding the opened packet out to his soldiers as they gathered around him briefly. Each man recieved a slice, except for the one man sporting a field-dressing over the bloodied tear in his battledress jacket sleeve, who was told to take two.

"Maybe you'll heal faster, Sergei. If nothing else, maybe you'll be lighter on your toes, dodge that next burst, hey?"

The speaker slapped Sergei on the upper arm, directly over the dressing, and through the jolt of pain that shot up his arm, Sergei grinned through gritted teeth, vowing to punch him once they got back to base.

Logistics for the Russkyan forces consisted of a 3:1 ratio, which was why they lived off combat rations. A man could easily survive on three of these a day, but if his ammunition or battle-equipment supply dried up, then he couldn't survive at all. A handful of the heavy-lift aircraft had suffered mechanical failures, which was the cause for this change in their cargo loads as they left Russkya and headed to the logistics field.

Enemy dead were stacked like cordwood and left to one side, stripped of any battle-equipment and weapons, which were stacked not far from the corpses. Friendly dead were body-bagged, loaded into Vixens, and prepared for the ride back. The wounded were stabilized, thanks to the medics, and prepared for transport back to the forward base the Russkyans operated from.

A quick, relatively painless operation. The Estovakians should have an easier time of their advance now - by 13.00, the Russkyan Engineers should have a secondary bridge in place as well, also capable of handling armoured vehicles and the heavier support and logistics vehicles as well.

"Super 6-4 this is Oscar 3-1, we have the factory in sight"
"Roger Oscar 3-1, dropping throw ropes"

It was nearly midnight. Exponent forces had managed to trace most of the Estonavian Communist faction to this abandoned factory complex. 5 hughes H-6 choppers flew over the factory. Minutes later, they turned back around, and unloaded their weapons onto what looked like the guards quarters, and numerous other machine gun nests. Immediatly after the attack, 2 black hawk choppers flew in, and dropped their men into the compound. The Honor Guard had 45 seconds to make it to cover. This was the time span they figured it would take the remaining guards to organize and attack. The soldiers formed up behind a bunch of unused rail road cars. Within seconds, the ping ping ping of ak fire hitting the metal cars was heard. The troops were pinned down.
"Chalk 4 to Kilo 1-1, what is our orders?"
"Chalk 4, take your men around the back of the train, attempt to get into the burned out building in the Northwest corner"
"Roger that Kilo 1-1"
5 men pulled away from the rest of the group. They made a break for the building, returning fire at the rebels. 1 man was hit on the run. He dropped, and the men knew if they stopped to help him, they would also be hit. Soon, the men made it to the burned out structure. From this position, the Honor Guard was able to cover the rest of the men. The rebels began pulling back into the factory. The rest of the broke of into groups of 5, and each made its way for a door to the main building. The doors were kicked in, and the troopers threw in flashbangs before pouring in. They were met with heavy gunfire, immediatly killing 3 men. Within 10 minutes, 2 more men would be wounded, 1 of them severely. The factory was secure. Not only this, but of the 5 suspected heads of the Communist forces, 1 was dead, and 2 were captured. The soldiers proceeded to loot anything of value in the factory, as well as searching for anything they could use. Soon, the men were all picked up by choppers, and the factory was destroyed by c4, placed all around the main building after it was taken.

13.35, Local Time
Highway 10 Bridge

--

Four L-21B "Buffalo" ABLVs of the Engineering detatchment slung their bridges across the water, one to either side of the H-10 bridge, captured in perfect order except for some slight bullet-scarring. Engineers anchored the bridgeheads, and because the deployed bridge on the North side was secure into some softer ground that might be turned into a muddy morass by heavier armoured vehicles, cut down some logs and built a ramp leading to the hard-packed "roads" that linked back up with Highway 10. Although not nessecary, as the bridge demolitions had been safely removed, the redundancy would help the Estovakian advance all the more.

The remainder of the units that had captured the bridge had swept Highway 10 clear all the way back to their base, and the engineers saddled up to go, not before leaving a sturdily-built wooden sign to the left of the main bridge as you crossed over from the "Estovakian" side to the far side. It read:

"Highway 10 Bridge brought to you courtesy of the Russkyan Military."

--

Major Iltchenko, pleased with his troop's progress, put down the missive recieved from Colonel Metzger, notifying him of the Estovanian buildup. That was potentially worrying, but he had every confidence in his soldiers not to get into something they couldn't handle. A member of his operations staff wrote the dispatch, addressed to Generals Tate, Heidelmann, and Weiss.


The bridge servicing Highway 10 has been captured by Russkyan and Estovakian forces according to the overall operational plan. It is in perfect order and friendly casualties were light. Engineers belonging to the Combat Engineering Detatchment attached to my unit have erected two bridges to the North and South of H-10 Bridge capable of handling armoured vehicle traffic. The area is now ceded to your force's capable control, and Russkyan forces will return to their kaserne to regroup and reequip. Patrol operations will continue in support of your forces. Excellent performance by supporting Estovakian troops, Russkyan battlegroup sends their compliments.

Regards,
- Major Iltchenko.

Central Headquarters

General Tate was ecstatic about the news from the Russkyan troops. The had done their job admirably well. The soldiers from Exponent had done a great job, too in capturing the Communist leaders, though he was concerned their actions against Estovania might bring Estovakia into a peninsular war.

He was already concerned that a communist group from overseas-he couldn't remember the name but remembered they seemed Spanish- was already actively supporting the communists and socialists.

He had also just gotten word that an Estovanian Sukhoi-33 had crashed into a Estovakian F-16 after a mock dogfight. This would stretch relations to the breaking point once the governments went after each other. He hoped it wouldn't lead to war. He rushed III Corps to the Estovakian border just in case however.

From Exponent High Command
To Estovakia

We are requesting permission to train some of your forces. We have 30 men willing to train 10 men each. If you accept our offer, your men will learn effective counter insurgency measures, helicopter drops, as well as Exponent arms training and military doctrine. We also would like to know the main rifle of your forces. Please send all willing recruits to Fort Hart, a few miles into Estonavian territory.

The small naval/air base was now being constructed on the island of North Estovania. The construction is overseen by the 76th penal legion made up of 2,500 convicts from Colorado and Texas, and the 4th armored cavalry, holding 500 XM-1 MBT's

"Incoming!"

The mortars, at this distance, could not be heard firing. Although not the entirety of the force inside the Russkyan base had seen combat in Sorachoak, almost all of the men who went into the field had seen at least some kind of skirmish, and that combined with their extensive Basic Infantry and VDV Courses had inundated them with the immediate "Move your ass to the nearest bit of cover" response to any shout of "Incoming." Of the two dozen Blue Berets in the open when the first round - 81mm, judging from the all-too-familiar sound, to O'Connor - impacted, three seconds later, there were none in the open. A few blue berets might be seen at the rim of foxholes and slit-trenches, but most were wisely keeping their heads down. The men on the peremiter went to a higher level of alert, the bunkers dug in around the area being quite immune to 81mm mortar fire, the troops inside still scanning the cut-down brush beyond the wire, looking for movement. Some of the newer troops reflexively jerked away, when a round hit, but there were enough combat veterans there to give the entire base an air of calm under this fire.

Major Iltchenko, meanwhile, sitting in his operations tent - which he had no left for two days now - acknowledged the incoming fire with only a raise in the volume of his voice, to be heard clearly over the sporadic explosions.

"Honestly think we should get a few fire-finder radars and a battery or two of tube, Hell, maybe even Rocket artillery in here. What do you think, Intel?"
"I think maybe the Estonvanian countryside has enough craters as is, sir."

One of the radio operators notified a member of the Ops-staff, who moved a marker on the map table and notified Iltchenko that I2E had reached Waypoint Foxtrot and that they could actually see a group of Partisan mortars in the village near WP-F. Almost as a side note, I2E's section leader mentioned that they were engaging, and the radio operator flicked a switch, putting the radio feed on the speakers in the left-front corner of the tent.

"... advises Romeo that we are engaging now, India Two Echo out."

The voice, with the accent of the Northern Oblast, was almost overridden by the sound of the 35mm automatic cannon firing a sustained burst into the village.

--

"Corporal! Take three men and flank down to the left. We'll stay here and cover you. Go now!"

Four men ran through their concealment, a tossed yellow smoke canister obscuring them, and scrambled down the side of a hill with just short bushes and practically non-existant grass on it this hot day. The Sergeant was kneeling next to the hull of the L-16ISC, and his men were spread out in a line to either side of it, adding their aimed weapons fire to the fusilades heading down into the village below. A large number of dead partisans, some very messily killed by 35mm HE-FRAG, others with limbs barely attached or ripped-open torsos spilling glistening insides onto the dusty ground thanks to machinegun fire, or with large wound cavities torn through flesh by the smaller 5.45x39mm rounds that the Kalashnikov rifles fired.

Reaching the bottom of the hill and waving his men forward through the small gully, the Corporal lifted his rifle and took a snap-shot at a shape moving towards them. It tumbled down, leaving a trace of pink mist in the air, and he kept moving forwards. Always forwards, to get closer. A man jumped into the gully just ahead of the lead man, and the Cpl got a good view of his leading Desantnik comrade battering the man down with his rifle's stock and crushing his enemy's skull with his left boot-heel. He carried on, shooting another man around the bend, before the Corporal screamed for his men to haul themselves out of the gully and form up at the back of the wall. Splitting into their battle-pairs, the Corporal turned to see the RPK Gunner crouched next to him, his long-barreled weapon tucked to his shoulder. He turned back and glanced around the corner of the stone house, seeing three abandoned mortar tubes, a few dead Partisans, and rifle fire from a house on the far side of the open center of the village. He keyed his radio, directing the L-16's gunner onto the target, and saw one of the Emu ATGMs streak into the roof, and all of the intact windows blew out with its detonation, and the door flung itself open. A man stumbled out, and his upper body was bisected by a burst of fire from the RPK gunner, who was now prone and around the corner.

The remainder of the section came down the hill, and swept the village clear. I2E radioed in the body count, and with the speed and surprise of the hasty attack, was not unduly surprised by the lack of Russkyan casualties. Totals, around twenty dead partisans, and three captured mortars, with not much in the way of ammunition. Presumably, it had been fired off before I2E arrived on-scene, but possibly their supply situation was not great.

--

Another convoy loaded with additional ammunition, fuel, and assorted other supplies, twenty vehicles strong, left from the Logistics Base and arrived at the Russkyan forward base an hour and a half later. Surprisingly, the Partisans seemed to have mostly given up this far back, but appeared to be contesting the forward edge of battle line's rear areas more frequently, and more violently. Some large chunks of rock had been pushed off the road, and the pitted hillside indicated where these boulders might've been blown down onto an Estovakian convoy earlier. The gunner of the rearmost Vixen, his turret swivelled to face over the rear of his vehicle, lowered himself inside the turret and took a long, hard look around through the vision blocks. He had no infinite desire to see that kind of ambush sprung on his convoy.

Admiral Brightarrow watched both the Tejano fleet, and the Estovanian build up unhappily. "Radio back to fleet command. I want 2 Volcano class arsenal ships up here,NOW!" With that said, 2 arsenal ships left port, heading for the fight area.

The cruise missiles slammed into the Fujita, damaging much of the front of the ship. All but one of the turrets on the front were serviceable at all now, although the ship was finally close enough to fire the remaining guns at the cruise missile ships. The huge battleship turned to fire all of its guns. The turrets aimed at the missile cruisers. All of the 14" guns fired at a cruiser.
The AA frigates began firing at the Yak-38s. While the helicopters would still be there, they were probably too high up to effectively attack the submarines.
The submarines, which had lost one of their number because of the copters, fired their torpedoes at the small boats lined up in front of the carrier. It was better than doing nothing.

The smaller attack boats deployed the few counter measures they had to avoid the torpedoes, while at the same time letting off a hellish mini barrage of shells, torpedoes, and anti-ship missiles. 2 of the ships were crippled. 4 were damaged but operational. The other 6 went down. The cruiser exploded into a ball of flames when it was hit by the battleship. Suddenly, every ship in the fleet opened up at once on the Fujita. It would not be able to survive this barrage. 72 Tomahawk cruise missiles, and even more shells and torpedoes were unleashed on it. The Yak's were deploying countermeasures as well, but still lost 10 of their number. None the less, they still unleash their devastating rain of missiles onto the lighter ships. The original attack fleet had now also stopped their bombardment of the coast to fire anti ship missiles, and shells into the Fujita. There was no way the Fujita could live, it would take a miracle to save it.

Official Message from the Estovania Republic

It is my deepest regret that thousands of deaths have occured in Estonavia. It is even worse that more deaths have resulted as a result of so called "intervention" by Estovakia and its allies. The bungling, poor management, and operational blunders by Estovakia and its allies have cost lives both to their own men and more civilians.

It is therefore with great reluctance that the Army of Estovania has had to mobilize its divisions to deal with this crisis. The government of Estovania feels it can no longer trust the inefficient fascist bureaucracy of Estovakia or its minions to deal with this crisis anymore. Action- postive and decisive action- must be taken. Estovania can no longer watch Estovakia try to convert Estonavians to blackshirts, nor can it watch its cronies massacre whole villages for the sake of a few bandits.

Concurrent with 0100 Central Stovakian Time yesterday, elements from the 42nd Para Brigade landed in the eastern region of Estonavia to secure vital roadways. On 0330 hours tommorrow morning 'Operation Justice' will commence at which time the 201st Rifled Division, 178th Motorized Rifle Division, and 180th Motorized Rifle Division will enter Estonavia from three areas to the north to begin liberating the country from lawlessness, bandits, mercenaries, and warlords.

Any armed resistance to our incursion will not only be seen as a hostile action against the Estovanian people and Estonavian people, but declaring war onto peace itself, a totally dispicable and vile action which those of only the blackest of hearts can do.

Sincerely,

President Zcarak

Exponent light artillery at Fort Hart began opening fire as Estovanian troops landed. The rest of the men inside readied defences to prepare for battle.

"Major, theres a young female at the Gates wishing to speak with you, Mam" A CSF Corporal said at the command tent.

"what...who is she? what does she want?" The Major replyed looking rather annoyed.

"she wont say mam, said she would only speek with you no other"

"fine, bring her in, Stripsearcher and be shore she has no weapons i dont fancy having my brains splatted all across the floor." The major replyed, "escort her in after your finished.....heavy escort."

"yes mam" the Corporal saluted and left.

The search took a while, in a way the men who did it seemed to get a sick perverse thrill from it. who ever it was didnt expect this, who ever she was had to be important.


-============-

OOC: currently have writers block...grrr

"Major!"
"Yo!"

Iltchenko bolted upright in his cot, startled, looking over his left shoulder at the Operations officer, a junior Lieutenant, who stood at attention staring at the tent wall above Iltchenko's head.

"Estovanian troops landed a few hours ago. One of our long-range recce patrols encountered parachutists on several major roads and facilities. We were able to discuss things politely with them - which is to say no-one was killed and there was no shooting. Despite their good OPSEC, it would appear they belong to the Forty-Second Parachute Brigade."

There was a pause, then Iltchenko stooped to pull on his combat boots, tying the laces with deft, quick movements and pulling on the characteristic light-blue-striped Telnayshka shirt, standing up while zipping his pants and pocketing his beret as he left his room.

"Oh, fanfuckingtastic. Has the map-table been updated with all of our latest intel?"

"Yessir!"
"Good. Where's that message from the Estovakian regarding Estovanian troop movements?"
"I'll find it," and a few seconds later; "Got it!"


Estovakian Intelligence and Signal Corps

From: Colonel Metzger
To: Lieutenant General Weiss and our allies

Radio intercepts, satellite imagery, and HumIT has revealed troubling news.

Scattered radio intercepts from Stovakistan and eastrern Estonavia confirm the presence of Stovakian special forces in the eastern end of the country. They are on claudestine operations in the area.

More troubling, Estovania has put three brigades on its southern border and has begun mobilizing its ground forces. Satellite imagery show extensive supply buildups, suggesting preparation for an offensive within the next 48 hours. Sources believe Estovania does not plan to attack occupying troops but rather the remainder of the country not occupied by Estovakian/allied troops. While a direct threat against assault is expected to be minimal, nonetheless the dividing of the nation will surely lead to future conflict and further polarization between the different groups in Estonavia. We must attempt to gather as much land as possible to keep the country as united as possible.

Estovakia wishes to prevent a penninsular war and does not want conflict with Estovania. it will not engage in any actions to prvent Estovania from intervening in the country as well. However, once they pull in, they will probably not pull out, especially so long as Estovakia occuipies it as well.


"Do we trust their intel?"
"Do we have a choice, sir?"
"Not really. I didn't think so then. All-right, we have to act on this intelligence. Ops, who is in the field?"

A man dressed in Telnyashka, fatigue trousers, unlaced boots and beret with a OTs-33 in a drop-leg holster bent over the map-table and responded a moment later;

"Victor Three, Victor Four, India Three Alpha, Bravo, and Echo, and apparently India Three Romeo is stuck two kilometers from base with an engine failure. They're repairing it."

"Recall all units except the Victors. Redeploy for combat patrols within twenty five kilometers of the base. Instruct all forces to engage Partisan and Estonavian troops only; support Estovakian troops where applicable and try to avoid conflict with Estovanian forces. If you take any shit from any other troops, report in. Intel, what do we have on the rogue groups?"

"One group we're semi-familiar with, they cornered a patrol earlier. Appear to be somewhat-competant helicopter-borne troops rolled similiar to American Rangers, appear to have several bases, and are responsible for the Naval skirmishes RSAT [OOC: Recce Satellite] picked up. Apparently, artillery and a substantial armoured concentration are present as well, and they appear to be flailing around and taking on Estovania single-handedly. My opinion, is that they might draw all of the Estovakian-aligned units into conflict with the Estovanians."

"What do the Estovanians have to say about us?"

"Uh... according to Zcarak's latest message, we're Fascists for having aligned ourselves with the Estovakians."

"Well, that offends my delicate Socialist sensibilities, comrade. Do you think we chose the wrong side to align ourselves with?"

"I think I think what you think, sir. In short, no. The Estovakians do not appear to be guilty of any massacres, which is to say that we have no evidence of their forces murdering villages, and the Estovakians appear to be competant troops engaging in quasi-legitimate operations in 'The Zone.' Now, I think perhaps the Estonavians would disagree, but the Estovanians seem to be securing as much of the country as possible in order to preserve some kind of strategic balance. A not entirely accurate historical example would be Poland, in '39, when the Soviets came in after the Germans."

"We have to hold our position as best we can and maintain our local superiority. Do not engage the Estovanian forces, but if they move on our base here, we will have to defend ourselves actively. Ensure that the outbound patrols move in groups of at least two sections per, exceptions made for the Recce teams. I will send a message to Russkya in a few minutes, detailing the situation. Intel, any communication intercepts?"

"Stovakian SF still operating in area, and increased radio chatter from all units present."

"Able to decrypt any of it?"

"Some. Some isn't even encrypted. Our comms should be safe, by the way. Burst-transmission encrypted radios, all that jazz that cost us a fair bit to install. Useful, though. All current intelligence would support your latest orders."

"That's good. I'm going back to bed. Wake me in three hours."

Estovakian Intelligence and Signal Corps

From: Colonel Metzger
To: Lieutenant General Weiss and our allies

It is confirmed that Estovanian units are inside Estonavia. Estovakian Special Forces and Russkyan scout troops have revealed penetration by Estovanian units into Estonavia.

Special forces operating in eastern Estonavia have taken this picture of a Hind-D at 0535 hrs. It is believed to be a part of the 2nd Para Brigade, or in support of.
Picture 0010 of an Estovanian Hind-D @ 0535 hrs @ 35km ESE of Karadjevo (http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/Slide3a.JPG)

Exponent troops have begin bombarding the Estovanians. The 20st Rifled Divison is counter-bombarding and moving forces toward Exponent's forces. Their plan is unknown.

Map of Estovanian Invasion
Eastern Invasion Map (http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/invasioneast.bmp)

The Estovanian occupation has begun. It is to Estovakia's disappointment that it does not appear Estovakia will be able to keep the country under one government. However, it is vital that Estovakia and its allies try to capture Karadjevo before the Estovanians do. The capital and major population center of approximately 3 million, it holds a little less thn 20% of the country's total population. it is the central transportation hub and it is the center for the meagre industry and commerce in Estonavia. It is therefore vital to be taken before the Estovanians do.

While we can move faster than the Estovanians can for the moment, it is possible for them to block our push foward, espcially if the 178th Rifled Divison makes it to Highway 10 before our major forces can occupy it. everything that has to be done, has to be done quickly and immediately. we must defeat the rebel factions and capture territory before the estovanians cut us off.

"Major, theres a young female at the Gates wishing to speak with you, Mam" A CSF Corporal said at the command tent.

"what...who is she? what does she want?" The Major replyed looking rather annoyed.

"she wont say mam, said she would only speek with you no other"

"fine, bring her in, Stripsearcher and be shore she has no weapons i dont fancy having my brains splatted all across the floor." The major replyed, "escort her in after your finished.....heavy escort."

"yes mam" the Corporal saluted and left.

The search took a while, in a way the men who did it seemed to get a sick perverse thrill from it. who ever it was didnt expect this, who ever she was had to be important.


-============-

OOC: currently have writers block...grrr

The woman was escorted to the Major. She had no plans to kill him (originally), although after the strip search she was becoming accustommed to the thought of it.

Men. She thought to herself. Now she found herself in front of a man who, ironically, she came to help.

"When your men strip searched me," she began with a tinge of anger in her voice, "they should have found a mini-CD inside one of my pant pockets. You might have seen what was on the CD, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on the off chance you didn't rummage through my stuff.

"The CD contains the blue prints for the mansion of the infamous General Andree Reznik. Slave dealer, drug trafficer, mercenary, car theft syndicate leader, and weapons trader dealing with even NBCs, Andree Reznik is now a billionaire thanks to his vast illegal empire.

"This has made him a target of international groups for almost every crime imaginable, including the UN and Interpol, and thus he has taken to rule a mini-kingdom inside of Estonavia he calls 'Graceland' after his love for Elvis paraphanilla. He should have hundreds of million of dollars in every kind of asset at the mansion.

"Of course, the CD doesn't have the whole layout or guard layout. Only I have that to garentee that I can walk out of here without complications.

"So do you want to do this or not? you have to decide rather quickly. The Estovanians will get to his place rather soon. It'll be by the hais on your back that you leave before the Estovanians arrive if you start now."

"A little over an hour, sir."

Was the response to Iltchenko's query on the status of the two Fennek recce vehicles driving forward from the logistics field, leading a convoy carrying a pair of fire-finder radars, ten 82mm Vasilesk automatic mortars, their gunners, plenty of ammunition, and some higher-powered communications equipment; specifically a satellite communications array with an encrypted burst-transmission datalink plugged into a ruggedized laptop computer which would allow the Russkyans the ability to recieve satellite recce imagery and other, larger intelligence files rapidly and mostly safe from the chance of interception and decryption.

In their dug-down fighting positions around the Command Tent, the four L-16 "Fox" Combat Recce Vehicles (L-16CRVs) that comprised the current Recce Platoon were undergoing routine maintainence. Their operations would be nearer the Russkyan's main forces now, sometimes acting as a kind of "Commando" force, carrying a full complement of vehicle crewmen and recce-qualified VDV men, some of whom were Pathfinders, most dangerous men indeed, Spetsnaz in all but name and some slight capabilities. Their short and medium range duties would keep them busy enough, and the two Fenneks would take over any kind of long ranged recce patrol operations; a rather massive one was being planned for tomorrow, infact.

The troops rested in their positions, some were training, and O'Connor's section was practicing melee combat with men from 2 and 3 Platoons, while the remainder of the Company improved positions, cleared more brush further out, or conferred with their comrades over various things. As part of an "Aid Package" an Engineer's wife had sent, a very large number of pinups of Russkyan Army and Navy Nurses were plastered inside tents and fighting positions as "motivational posters." The officers and NCOs, too well used to the antics of their enlisted comrades, checked over patrol routes, and carried on with the business of forward base life.
A field kitchen had arrived, and was quickly sited, and like everything else inside the peremiter, dug in. The Russkyan soldiers were happier; as were any Estovakian troops who came to visit, as hospitality was a Russkyan norm and the Russkyan cooks were very, very good, given the materials they had to work with. A freshly-killed deer was carried into the wire on the back of an L-16ISC; in a piece of superb shooting the gunner had blown the animal's head and neck off with a single 35mm armour-piercing round as it grazed, which unfortunately had ripped up the forward meat, but on such a large animal, there was meat aplenty, and one of the cooks began butchering the animal as it was offloaded, with a wickedly sharp series of knives he had tucked into his belt when one of the handles didn't occupy his deftly-moving hands. Also included, several rabbits, snared a hundred meters from the peremiter.

Iltchenko wrote a dispatch to General Tate, which was transmitted via the secure burst transmitter, one of the many pieces of radio equipment in the back of the tent, and the message read:


General,

Preparing for operation, details to follow. Will prepare to secure section of Highway 10 apparently nessecary for Estovakian advance. Request Estovakian helicopter transports or Mi-24 type gunships to support one platoon of my battlegroup for airmobile/air-assault operations in support of your forces. Russkyan Assault Helicopter Squadron currently unavailable, will bring in equipment as soon as is possible. LRRPs available for operations; expect target lists from my units soon - prepare artillery and CAS assets to engage Militia and Estonavian forces to speed your advance, expect accurate target intel.

Regards,
- Major Itchenko


He turned and looked back down at the map-table which now showed a more detailed map of an area around a section of Highway 10, which could potentially stymie the Estovakian advance. Another map showed the area around Karadjevo, and Iltchenko looked up from the maps at the sound of one of the cooks at the impromptu mess-hall bellowing the word 'chow' across the compound. He pulled his blue beret from under his left epaulette and told his gathered command staff as he pulled the beret on to leave the tent:

"Like Hell I'm eating another meal in here. We take thirty minutes for supper, come back, and get some more planning done up. Thirty minutes. Let's go."

The break would give their minds a chance to relax and produce a better plan at the end of it. Thirty minutes lost now was better than ten lives lost later, and Iltchenko greeted a junior-grade Sergeant leading a foot patrol back through the wire on his way to the mess tent. One of the Air Defence crews spoke what the compound thought; that Iltchenko was batyanya, a Russian slang word that had found purchase in the Russkyan Military. Batyana was a tough way of saying "Father," but in the Russkyan Military it denoted a good leader, a good superior, and the thirty-three year old Major was well-respected and even liked by his troops. He knew how to lead.

And despite that, he still didn't know how to write the letters that would accompany each of the bodies shipped back home, currently in the cold-storage morgue at the Logistics Field further behind the lines. The coming days would likely see need for more letters, and Iltchenko pushed that thought out of his mind as returned the shouted jest of an Anti-Armour Company gunner.

The woman was escorted to the Major. She had no plans to kill him (originally), although after the strip search she was becoming accustommed to the thought of it.

Men. She thought to herself. Now she found herself in front of a man who, ironically, she came to help.

"When your men strip searched me," she began with a tinge of anger in her voice, "they should have found a mini-CD inside one of my pant pockets. You might have seen what was on the CD, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on the off chance you didn't rummage through my stuff.

"The CD contains the blue prints for the mansion of the infamous General Andree Reznik. Slave dealer, drug trafficer, mercenary, car theft syndicate leader, and weapons trader dealing with even NBCs, Andree Reznik is now a billionaire thanks to his vast illegal empire.

"This has made him a target of international groups for almost every crime imaginable, including the UN and Interpol, and thus he has taken to rule a mini-kingdom inside of Estonavia he calls 'Graceland' after his love for Elvis paraphanilla. He should have hundreds of million of dollars in every kind of asset at the mansion.

"Of course, the CD doesn't have the whole layout or guard layout. Only I have that to garentee that I can walk out of here without complications.

"So do you want to do this or not? you have to decide rather quickly. The Estovanians will get to his place rather soon. It'll be by the hais on your back that you leave before the Estovanians arrive if you start now."


"oh we know this man" the major replyed, brushing her purple hair to one side. "stole a fair few weapons from the corporate states, has a fairly large price on his head. Never knew he was in Estonavia, right under my noise." she shook her head as she looked over to a Corporal.

"Get That Merc, Major Jason something over here, i have a mission for him." He turned back to the woman infront of her.

"How did you find us, i can see why you we're not shot on sight......but how and why us?" The Major asked. "and of corse, if the infomation is good then you will be allowed to leave unharmed...if not...well...lets just hope".

OOC: i hate writers block.

After firing a few more shells at the missile cruisers, the Fujita took the full brunt of the Exponential attack. Explosions rocked the ship as its thick hull finally gave way to water. The ship slowly began to sink, while the remaining Tejano ships left the area.

NEW FUKUOKA, H-TOWN TEJAS

"Are you kidding?" Ryouta said, "They sank the Fujita?"
"Yeah," Italo said, "The rest of the ships have been called back. I'm sorry, I know how much you hate all this crap Exponent is giving Estovania, but we don't have much of a choice. Estonavia is costing too much, we just need to stay out."
"Fine," the Chairman said, "I suppose it can't be helped. Too many people are flocking to those Estovakian fascists as it is."

A Russkyan battlegroup confirmed as having been assembled from elements of a VDV Division and some elements of various Specialist Brigades have been engaged in operations on the Stovakian Penninsula in support of Estovakia and Estovakian-aligned forces in the "Estonavian Theatre of Operations" as was introduced to the press by Lieutenant General Vokes of the Russko-Celtic Corps earlier this morning.

Although politically 'dangerous,' Russkyan forces are working in support of the Fascist Estovakians for reasons made clear by the Politburo to the media today. Although Fascist, and although Fascism is an unworkable system, Estovakia appears to be in the best position to occupy and bring peace to the nation of Estonavia.

The operation originally began as an Observer mission, which was later re-rolled to a military support operation, with Russkyan forces taking a lead role in local actions. The situation was clouded by numerous and widely varied groups in conflict with one another as well as nations openly engaging each other over the small landlocked nation.

Estovakian and Russkyan troops are reported to enjoy a strong working relationship with potential Russkyan support of Estovakian actions in the future 'a distinct possibility,' according to LGen Vokes, who concluded the short briefing by answering questions from the gathered press.

It was definitively answered that Russkyan involvement on the Stovakian Penninsula would continue, despite recent Estovanian involvement in Estonavia.

We will provide you with a more comprehensive report at noon today and again in the evening. And now the scores from the Spazjenia-Great Brabant -"


The radio was turned off with a deft turn of the dial, interrupting the pleasant female voice in mid-sentence, and the Comms technician screwed the back plate of his long-range communications array back into place.
Although quite far away from the Russkyan homeland indeed, RCRN was able to bounce their signal off a satellite to reach the Russkyan encampment at particular times of the day. This meant that there was a delay, of course, as the pre-recorded sections were broadcast on the tail of the daily data transfer for 'that taste of home' encamped troops in far-off lands often wanted, whenever it was possible.

The entire pre-recorded broadcasting day was sometimes broadcast over the Estonavian countryside on the same frequency band, as the Russkyans figured that classical music and the - very rare to hear - softer operas could hardly spark any kind of public disturbance.

"oh we know this man" the major replyed, brushing her purple hair to one side. "stole a fair few weapons from the corporate states, has a fairly large price on his head. Never knew he was in Estonavia, right under my noise." she shook her head as she looked over to a Corporal.

"Get That Merc, Major Jason something over here, i have a mission for him." He turned back to the woman infront of her.

"How did you find us, i can see why you we're not shot on sight......but how and why us?" The Major asked. "and of corse, if the infomation is good then you will be allowed to leave unharmed...if not...well...lets just hope".

OOC: i hate writers block.


"The Estovanians are six hours away from the mansion. We are about an hour. If you want to get to the site, I can lead you through the minefield surrounding its grounds quickly. I can notify the search and patrol pattern of the guards. I can tell you the hidden areas that aren't on the blueprints.

"In case you are wondering who and why I am helping you, my name is Natalya, and I am, or was one of his twenty wives. Rather forcefully, being that he has total control over the area. I did not like him before and after my abduction and forced marriage, I didn't like him any more either. It is true that I am looking for revenge, but I need some help getting it. I'm sure the gold and cash he keeps in the vaults downstairs, as well as the prceless art around the mansion, would be enough just compensation.

"After all, I know you don't give a damn about my revenge, and I was never under the illusion that you were. But as i see you are my best chance for helping me get my revenge, and I thought a few hundred million would help convince you all into joining me."

Fort Noodle

Sergeant Alvarado never thought he'd be in a camp named after something similar to pasta. Of course, he never thought he would be alive after the rock fall either. Fortunately he was pulled to safety after temporarily being buried alive. He had spent time in the medical tents a couple of days and itched to get back to the action. Fortunately, his last night before he was to be sent back to his outfit, the Estovakian Army Entertainment Corps (EAEC) [OOC: similar to USO], appeared at the fort.

Alvarado waited with hundreds of other soldiers in front of a stage. He was waiting for the introduction by General Zare, a 92 year old relic that was barely alive. Two secret police officers stood at both ends of the stage, G36s in hand, in the off chance the crowd would be so rowdy that they would need them. Brawny Army MPs stood in front of the stage, to help keep the crowd in order.

Soon intense lights danced around the stage. alvarado strained his eyes to see what was going on. A big, round man, very gray and wobbly, came on stage being escorted by two MPs. It was General Zare.

"Gentlemen. Or rather ladies and gentlemen, for those military women out there tonight. Please welcome General Zare!"

Alvarado watched the announcer, an older man that was rather pudgy, walk to the side to let General Zare take the microphone.

"Humph," the general snorted, "what a lousy lot tonight. Despicable, absolutely dispicable. How are you all doing tonight, maggots?"

The crowd roared back. Alvarado didn't know whether the general was sarcastic or serious in his remarks.

"When you go off to fight the facists, you gotta give them all you got. They won't give you an ounce of rest until they're dead and buried. Bullet in the brains is what you need. Who's ready to die against those facist bastards?"

The secret police looked at each other and then at the general. Some people in the audience had clapped or even cheered, but most of the crowd were confused. Nobody that did cheer cheered for long after seeing the secret police grow nervous.

"I tell you those facists and commies deserve a bullet in their back."

Again, everybody looked around confused. The secret police officers started visibly sweating. Were they going to arrest a senile, 92 year old national hero and get fired? Or let a man spue anti-government sentiment and get fired?

The announcer walked up to the general's ear and whispered something quite urgently. The general paused and spoke again. "Oh, sorry sons. I forgot who we were. Anyway, lill those Estonavians! Kill the who-ever-you-call-them."

The crowd roared back in approval.

"We can do it! We're Estovakians with a proud and noble heritage! We, the rightful owners of this peninsula ,are going to win this. We don't need know help. We're strong. We don't need the blue and white striped Russkyans. What's with those blue and white striped shirts, anyway? My brother had one of those shirts when he was a midshipman back in the day and he was a bastard. Those midshipmen wore them all over the place. Those pirates. Are we going to let pirate bastards win the war for us?"

The crowd screamed "no" as loud as it could. Alvarado looked up at the secret police officers who were know nervously laughing. He'd hate to be in their shoes. Now that the former general was hurling insults at fellow allies, in addition to vomiting anti-government sentiment, he was sure the two secret police officers were shitting bricks.

At least the Russkyans aren't around. Othwerwise, there's your 'when the shit hit the fan' scenario. Alvarado though to himself. He knew that the shirts denoted an eilte unit or special unit, much similar to the back shirts the black guard wore underneath their uniforms.

The general was halfway through his story about his brother the midshipman, prancing about on a brigantine when the navy still had a few training sailing ships left when the announcer again whispered something into the general's ear. The general immediately looked startled at whatever the remark was, and the two poor secret policemen escorted the general off the stage.

"Okay, guys," the announcer beamed with a smile of coolness so convincing that it was obviously fake. "Next up, the girls from every man's favorite magazine, please welcome from Behind the Alley, the calender girls for lasy year!!!"

Evey man was howling, screaming, jumping up and down, cheering, or a combination of the four. Alvarado glanced at his watch. Shit, it's already 2330 hrs. I gotta catch some shut eye for my tranport at 0300. he rushed back to his barracks to ctach some sleep.

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

Alvarado woke up at 0245 hrs to get ready. His uniform was all wrinkly after sleeping in it, but that was the least of his problems. Cursing like no tomorrow with an attitute bordering on that of a psycopathic murder, Alvarado (very) grudgingly got out of his cot, and with his bag already packed, marched down to the Supply Center (he was hitching a ride with a supply convoy) which was mercifully close by. Soon a series of trucks ground to a halt in front of the supply center. Alvarado, chilled from the nighttime air, was more than glad to sit in the cab of one of the trucks. After ammunition was loaded, the convoy got underway.

The sun was starting to beam directly into Alvarado's closed eyes as the convoy reached its destination not very far from where Russkyan troops were. The driver woke him up and Alvarado wearily got out and stumbled toward his old barracks. Inside he was greeted by some familar faces.

"Hello, Sarge. A familar voice, from a corporal, called back to him. Welcome back."

"Thanks."

"Sir,Captain Lohr wishes to see you ASAP. About Karadjevo."

"Great, thanks. I'll see him in five."

It rained, lightly, and there was a mist that shrouded the base as twilight fell. In other words, it was a great time to try infiltrating through the wire, or try a sudden attack. Sentries would have been nervous, but the careful defensive preparations ensured that approaching the base, even under this kind of cover would be practically impossible without raising the alarm. Not to say it couldn't be done, however. The aggressive patrolling had also paid off in that partisan activity along the primary route between the forward base, the nearest Estovakian facilities, and the Logistics Field, had pretty well died off. There was little in the way of partisan activity in the local area anymore. Either they had learnt better, or had found somewheres that was a better use of their time, in their minds.

The markers on the map denoting the Estovanian troops that had entered the theatre of operations from the North hadn't moved in quite a while. This wasn't because the Estovanians weren't moving, it was because the Russkyans didn't happen to have up-to-date intelligence on where they were at the moment, the recce satellite currently cycled too far away in orbit to catch good photographs with its advanced camera systems. The next time it would be overhead would be around 11.00-15.00, and the command staff would dearly like to see what pretty pictures it got this time.

A soldier with black hair and a dark stubble across his face, a cruel scar running from the top left of his hairline diagonally down between his eyes to a point just to the right of his right eye - a startling blue-grey - stood at attention on the far side of the map table from Major Iltchenko. At the issued command the soldier relaxed and stood at ease, unslinging his rifle to rest in the crook of his arms. He wore the issued fatigues, bloused into combat boots, and a piece of individual scrim net sporting a green-brown pattern rolled up and used as a neck-scarf, a handy keeping place for it.

Iltchenko laid some notes aside and looked down at the map with this soldier from an Independant Recce Battalion, the battle insignia on his sleeve indicating the rank of Warrant Officer.

"It is easiest to take the Fenneks along this route. We avoid the highway, to avoid giving the enemy any hints if we're compromised, which is unlikely. If I can, I would like to bring some antitank weapons with me, even if they're likely to do shit-all against the kind of armour we might brush up against."
"Not a problem. You're trained on the Weasel?"

"Yes sir."

"Take those then. There's a crate of six that arrived with the last convoy. We're not going to use them, what we've got is more useful right now. How long?"

"Five days, minimum. Probably a week and a half, Major. We can do it easily, but you'll only hear from us infrequently. How often do you want us to check in?"

"Twice daily, Warrant. Once when you wake up and once before you sleep. And if you make contact, let us know. The Estovakians seem to be pretty good about supporting us, but I don't like not having the organic support that we've trained with. I imagine they'll be pleased with your gifts."

"Would hope so, sir."

"Anything else we should cover?"

The soldier quietly shook his head from side to side.
"No, sir."

"Dismissed, Warrant."

"Sir!"

He snapped to attention, and before he about-turned and left the tent, the Major offered his right hand, and the Warrant grasped and shook hands in the Russkyan-Norse fashion; by the wrist, a tight squeeze and a quick vertical jerk with a release at the apex. The Warrant left the tent.

"Fresh troops are funny, Major."
"That they are. He'll relax in a day or two. Back to the map board. Have the Estovakians told us what we can expect for airlift capacity?"
"No sir, but we are told that they'll likely fly in that force with Lynx or Puma troopships."
"Wonderful, things we haven't trained on. Well, not like they're that much different. See if our allies will lend us some with their flightcrews, enough to lift this force to this LZ here."

"The Estovanians are six hours away from the mansion. We are about an hour. If you want to get to the site, I can lead you through the minefield surrounding its grounds quickly. I can notify the search and patrol pattern of the guards. I can tell you the hidden areas that aren't on the blueprints.

"In case you are wondering who and why I am helping you, my name is Natalya, and I am, or was one of his twenty wives. Rather forcefully, being that he has total control over the area. I did not like him before and after my abduction and forced marriage, I didn't like him any more either. It is true that I am looking for revenge, but I need some help getting it. I'm sure the gold and cash he keeps in the vaults downstairs, as well as the prceless art around the mansion, would be enough just compensation.

"After all, I know you don't give a damn about my revenge, and I was never under the illusion that you were. But as i see you are my best chance for helping me get my revenge, and I thought a few hundred million would help convince you all into joining me."


Jason entered the Command tent, followed by sasha, both seemed as if they had ran here. When they saw the young women jason looked confussed, Sasha just glared at her.

"Mam" Jason said as both he and Sasha saluted.

"at ease" The major replyed. "now we dont have much time, so i will give it to you stright. You Know of the name Andree Reznik?"

"ya, on the top 10 hitlist for the shadowrunners, riped off the Shadowrunners back in the 90's of alot of military hardware. Orders on this guy are to kill him, that or hand him over to someone like Interpol or the UN." Jason replyed, "why?"

"it seems that bastard has been right under my noise all this time." The major replyed, "this...this is someone who wants to help us get rid of him one way or another."

"whats the plan?" Jason asked looking at the major.

"well thats why your here, Natalya here is willing to lead you into the place safely. I want a small team, your best. Go in take him out or capture him what evers easyer to do and get back alive...and keep her alive also." the major replyed.

Jason looked at the plans of the building, with Natalya informing him of what she had just told the major. For about 10 minutes jason thought, muttering to Sasha in Japanese. He didnt look happy but it didnt matter.

"this is going to have to be a Scilent take out, we cant take Any armor units since the mine field or the noise of the Armor would give us away. Since we dont have any VTOL Transpots we cant get an air evac....shit. I take it the Wraiths will be our only support?" He asked the Major.

"ya, i will make shore they are your support." She replyed.

"ok, small 9 man..well 10 with her, team scilent weapons, full CSF armour and we might just get this done. Once we take out the target, Sasha your Battlion will attack, i want a full attack across the bord. I will lead the Squad, have gunther take command of our troops here." he looked down and shock his head. then he turned to Natalya, "we'll put you in the CSF armour, best protection we have, i'll have one of the men or women in the squad with you at all times. I warn you tho if this turns out to be a trap i will kill you myself....painfully." he staired at her for a moment to see the reaction in her eyes. "the Armour is going to unconfortble at first but you will get use to it. Anyway you ever fired a gun?" Jason asked Natalya.

Alvarado walked into Captain Lohr's tent. He was seated in a wooden chair behind a desk, going over various paperwork such as patrol reports, orders, and other paperwork assoicated with being a higher up.

"Feeling better Sergeant?" the captain asked.

"Honestly sir I feel like shit. I am dog-tired, sir." Alvarado replied.

"Welcome to the army, Sergeant. I haven't had a good sleep in 10 years." the captain responded. however, the captain wisened up. "We got ourselves a predicament. The Estovanians have moved faster than we thought. They seem to be going for a land grab approach, occupying as much land as possible and dealing with partisan activity later. Though supply convoys are frequently ambushed and militia elements still roam around, the Estovanians seem only to be concerned with reaching Karadjevo first."

The Sergeant butted in. "From what I understand sir, isn't it correct that the captial is the largest city?"

"That's right Sergeant. Karadjevo is home to about 4,000,000 people or 25% of the country's population. Nevermind the fact it has the most intact infrastructure and most industry in the country. While we control about 40% of the population, control of the city is absolutely vital. We cannot let the Estovanians take it. Unfortunately, they seemed to be closer to capturing it than we do."

"So how do we go about capturing Karadjevo, sir?"

"I'm glad you asked Sergeant. While the Estovanians are closer, their proximity has meant theat the bulk of the government forces have shifted to their front, thus slowing them down. They have pulled defenses from our path and put it into the Estovanian's. We might just make it ahead of the Estovanians if we push foward. We cannot wait for reinforcements."

The captain pulled papers from out of a pile and gave it to the sergeant.

"Take a look at Colonel Metzger's report."

[It read:]

Estovakian Intelligence and Signal Corps

From: Colonel Metzger
To: Lieutenant General Weiss and our allies

Estovanians are moving faster than anticipated. The Estovanians have utilized fast, mobile equipment which contradicts their main doctrine of using mass infantry and heavy equipment to pulverize.

Estovanian Advance (http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/invasioneasta.bmp)

Government forces so far have control of Karadjevo and some areas of the southern provinces. They will not hold long, so it is imperative that quick action is taken so that the Estovanians do not beat us to the captial.

City Diagram (http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/Karadjevo.bmp)

The city is ringed by Estonavian defense forces. The Estovanians are engaging from the north and east. Both fronts will likely give in soon, and there unfortunately will be probably no time for us to attack from multiple fronts other than from the west. The Gromadin Forest will slow down armoured forces from the northwest and southwest and might cause difficulty as the only major route for armoured vehicles will be Highway 10, whihc is heavily defended. It is possible for infantry to move within the forest, however the forest is dense and will brake up any major formations.

The government fores have dug in around Karadjevo. Air defense is very heavy and there are artillery emplacements. The northern defenses have been engaged by Estovania. The western end is weakened as troops have been pulled to reinforce the north. The best suggested attack would be immediately as the troops numbers are low and they have to defend many feet of land, as the defensive lines stretch around Gromadin. It must be noted that the should the lines fall, the Estonavians will fall back to a second defensive paremeter within Gromadin, thereby having more men per square foot than previously. This delay tacitic must be noted, and therefore it might be better to just avoid the town of Gromadin altogether and simply go around it to attack Karadjevo.

"ok, small 9 man..well 10 with her, team scilent weapons, full CSF armour and we might just get this done. Once we take out the target, Sasha your Battlion will attack, i want a full attack across the bord. I will lead the Squad, have gunther take command of our troops here." he looked down and shock his head. then he turned to Natalya, "we'll put you in the CSF armour, best protection we have, i'll have one of the men or women in the squad with you at all times. I warn you tho if this turns out to be a trap i will kill you myself....painfully." he staired at her for a moment to see the reaction in her eyes. "the Armour is going to unconfortble at first but you will get use to it. Anyway you ever fired a gun?" Jason asked Natalya.

Natalya's eyes did show a brief gimpse of fear. She was not leading them into a trap, though the thought of a slow death made her skin crawl nonetheless.

"No I've never fired one before. I wouldn't know how to fire one, sorry," she replied to Jason's question.

She was lying, but she didn't want to let on to exactly what she really knew and what her skills were. Better to keep some things a secret she thought herself.

OOC: Exponential forces have undergone a name change, Exponent is now the Blackhelm Confederacy. Same policies apply

Carrier Group Mahattan turned its guns on the nearest Estovanian city. They had no idea what it was called, but it was a population center. Yak-38's flew off to take out what was assumed administative buildings, while the remaining Ticonderogas and Arleigh Burke's let their missiles hit anything else.

Iltchenko sat in the rear of a L-16CP, ramp down, maps piled on tables behind him, communications staff still busy, and talked with members of his operations and battle staff while this new, flat, hilltop piece of real-estate became a fresh Russkyan base, in the 'narrow' part of Estonavia, recently occupied by Estovakian troops. Nearby, a highway could be seen. This roadway, actively patrolled all the way back to the Logistics Field that had also expanded to deal with the increase in troop-strength, provided a suitable logistics link and made life easier for the Estovakians as well.

"Ach, shit! This is not going to be all that pleasant."
"No sir."
"Let's rearrange this. Keep the original group out actively patrolling, have the new arrivals, that new battalion, and the supporting coy troops dig in the positions. Find me the 'Engineering King.' "

One of his staff about-faced and ran off towards a group of engineering vehicles, shouting over the noise.

"Major Iltchenko?"
"Who's asking? Ah, Major, good. Your battalion is defensive-minded, right now. Dig the peremiter in, site your OPs, start with the defenses. We'll get the support structures - and lend a platoon to Captain Ivanov, his Coy is currently doing the close-in defensive patrolling. Understand?"
"Yes Major."
"Good! Go!"

The "Engineering King," a Captain from the Engineering Demibattalion arrived, wearing a piece of OD Green tarp that dragged behind him like a cape, fastened over one shoulder with a brooch made of the famous green duct-tape beloved of Russkyan troops. Iltchenko felt his jaw drop.

"What the fuck, Captain?"
"I am the Engineering King! Bow before me! Sir."
"What the fuck?"
"Sir! The messenger you sent told me that he was looking for the 'Engineering King.' I thought it best not to disappoint."

He pulled the "cape" off and started pulling the tape off it, as the tarp would be better used to cover supply pallets later. The Captain looked back up at Iltchenko, waiting for him to start speaking, and the Lieutenant Iltchenko had sent to find the Captain was finally able to stop laughing.
The senior Comms man in the back of the L-16CP intoned quietly to his partner, who looked up shortly thereafter and burst into laughter:
"Jesus Fucking wept. The Engineering King has come to see the Earls of Communications-istan."

Iltchenko regathered his wits and handed the Captain a sheet detailing the internal structure of the base, and another sheet detailing the defensive peremiter. He nodded, taking the sheets and studying them more closely.

"I take it we're to work on the peremiter first, all of the other structures second, or should I leave the Infantry alone to dig their holes, and help site the vehicles afterwards?"
"No, get the supporting structures in, but have a group of guys figure the best sites for the L-16s. We've got five hours until sundown, get as much as we can done by then."

Iltchenko looked over his shoulder, recovering a thick binder and turning back to the group of officers, continuing his briefing and O-Group.

--

Having used the massive distraction provided by the forward base's relocation, the two Fenneks, commanded by the black-haired soldier with the long scar, were already most of the way to Karadjevo, about twenty five kilometers ahead of the Estovakian front. That scarred soldier rested in the hatch ring of the Fennek, binoculars pressed to his eyes and scanning the hills nearby.

Their next check in was in eight hours. By that time, they would be another fifty kilometers into Estonavia. The driver followed a game trail, not very wide, but the Fenneks were managing just fine.

The plan was to provide intelligence on Estonavian forces around Karadjevo, and ideally to service any major targets with Estovakian artillery or close air support.

OOC: where would fort Hart be located on a map?

The soldiers in Fort Hart were still unloading artillery fire on the oncoming Estovanians. Estovanian counter-barrages have killed 10 soldiers in the fort, and the rest were manning defensive positions. There were about 150 well armed Estonavian men in the base, fighting alongside the ex-Exponent, now Confederate troops. These men were the secret police Colonel Firestone set up, secretly, when he first set up Fort Hart. They were more apropriatly called death squads. There was about 50 more of them out in the field, collecting information on insurgent groups in the area. Colonel Firestone looked at the radar reading showing the Estovanian advance. "Fuck" he thought to himself. "We were almost out"

Scrim net, held in place over the binoculars by OD-green-gloved fingers, moved slightly in a light breeze as the rock-still recce soldier lay prone at the base of a tree, using the exposed root to steady his arms as he watched the Estonavian countryside for movement, or anything that suggested human presence. Behind him, two camouflaged Fenneks waited, the rest of his unit dismounted from the vehicles, spread out in a 'wagon wheel' around them, each as well camouflaged as he was - indeed, he would have been very difficult to spot from any distance beyond fifty meters, given his position in the woods. The way the hill dropped away enabled him a good view over the low scrub and tree-less hillsides of the surrounding area, and the netting prevented glare from the lenses of his durable binoculars, as well as disguised the distinctive circular shape.

A series of quiet whistles, sounding like snatches of birdsong, though quite obviously not to anyone with a knowledge of bird-calls, called his men in from their defensive circle, where they re-boarded their Fennek vehicles and continued down the path they'd been following. "Only" forty three and a half (43.5) kilometers to go until they were within visual range of Gromadin and its associated forest. They would be there by nightfall, if the current rate of travel continued.

--

Iltchenko was returning the canteen to its pouch on his battle belt as he stepped through the open doorway of his command tent. The Russkyan Forward Base had gone up in record time; housing a reinforced battalion, while two companies of the original battlegroup rested in the sized-down base at the original location, now the halfway point between the Logistics Support Field and this new area. Well-sited defensive positions, relatively comfortable billets in 'bunkered' tents, a Russkyan technique that unfortunately provided minimal overhead protection, although the slit trenches just outside the tent doors and to either side did provide good protection from falling artillery, and already the mess hall was operational.

"Hotel-Romeo, Fox-Victor One Echo."
"Fox-Victor, Romeo."
"Romeo, Fox-Victor. Technical failure on long range commset with Fox Victor Romeo, but repairable. Lock-Rep* is four-three-point-five klicks West of Gromadin. Sit-Rep** is undetected so far, all equipment operational except comms-failure on Romeo, fuel sufficient. No casualties. Over."
"Fox-Victor, Romeo acknowledges, over."

[OOC: * Lock-Rep is LOCREP, or LOCation REPort. ** Sit-Rep is SITREP, or SITuational REPort. Most of you I am sure are familiar with this.]

Iltchenko reached across the board and pushed the "Fox Victor One" LRRP marker to the appropriate position.

"Romeo, Victor. Anything we should know, over?"
"Victor, Romeo. Estovanian forces continue their advance. Gather intelligence South-side of Highway 10, infiltrate South. I say again, infiltrate the line South. Estovanian pressure is high on North and East, beware possible breakthrough. Acknowledge, go."
"Romeo, Fox-Victor acknowledges. That it, over?"
"Victor, Romeo. That's it, over."
"Hotel-Romeo, Fox-Victor One Echo out."

The Engineering Captain who'd dubbed himself the "Engineering King" yesterday entered the tent with a theatrical bow to Iltchenko.

"Sir, the disabled L-16ISC has been repaired. Forward wheel assembly is back on, but that antitank landmine did a job on the front end. I'd recommend that it be left in a defensive position, I don't think that the fore assembly will hold up as well as the undamaged ones. I think it might, though. As such, the vehicle is operational, Major. We recieved a shipment of antitank mines and antipersonnel mines earlier, do you want us to emplace those now?"
"In addition to what we already have?"
"Yes."
"No, leave them in storage."
"Very good, sir."
"Dismissed, Captain."
"Sir!"

The Captain turned on his heel and left the tent. The L-16ISC "Vixen" he'd been referring to earlier had encountered an Estovanian home-made antitank mine, pressure-fused, and basically a container of high-explosive, that had literally ripped the front wheels off the vehicle. Had it been a more modern mine, it would likely have destroyed the vehicle, if it were of the upward-facing shaped-charge antitank (HEAT) variety.

"Commschief?"
"Major?"
"Take down this message, to General Tate."


Russkyan base successfully relocated forward, as well as Russkyan battlegroup reinforced to two battalions' size. Are there any missions you want carried out by my forces? Long Range Recce Patrol operation continues towards Karadjevo, you should have viable local intelligence in the area by 08.45 tomorrow.

Regards,
- Major Iltchenko.

OOC: where would fort Hart be located on a map?

OOC: I don't know where it'd be located. Since you said it was in the way of the Estovanian advance it'd probably be under the 201st Rifle Division somewhere not too far from where the Estovakians advanced, although since you went out ahead initially far from anyone else, the Estovakians had not been able to connect with your occupied land in time before the Estovanians invaded.

The Estovanians plan to bombard you to prevent you from counter-attacking and keep you suppressed so you can't move, surround you and cut off your supplies, starve you out, hope you surrender, kill your loyal Estonavians, imprison your soldiers in some camp somewhere, and use them for political leverage for either the removal of your troops or hold them until retribution is paid for the damages done by the earlier attack.

I never got to RP the damage doen in the eariler assault due to time contraints in RL, but severe damage was done to Regional Party Headquarters, 11th Constabulary Prefecture, and Governour's Mansion. Moderate damage was done to the 12th Constabulary Prefecture, Okra Munitions Depot, Estonavian State Cannery facility, Rocheau Chemical Plant, Stuvovich Dock Repair, and a warehouse facility for various local businesses. Light damage was done to several nearby buildings.
Only one building was destroyed, but it was an apartment complex on a military base for families. 101 people perished in the attack. Estovania will demand retribution and payment for the damages incurred.

About 70% of you missles didn't made it because they (I) assumed you would attack and therefore estovania was well prepared. They heavily guarded vital military installations like port facilities and military depots and bases. However, not every air defense unit for the city was in city grounds because they had distributed air defense according to priority, thus meaning potential targets outside the city were also guarded. Therefore, while the anti-missile systems have a hit percentage of 75% to 90%, with number of missiles launched, the systems could not handle all of the missiles fired.

While buildings with severe damage are relatively few, please note that even the buildings with moderate damage are also inoperable.

Of course, assume that Estovania fired around the same amount of missles your fleet fired back at you in retaliation for your attack.

"Admiral, Estovania is firing back!" shouted an officer on board the Chancellor. "Get the anti missile defenses firing lets move!" the admiral shouted. The volcano class arsenal ships had also arrived by now. Together with the fleet's anti missile systems, they put up quite a defensive wall. Still, the Chancellor took a hard hit, rocking the ship. Admiral Brightarrow was thrown to the floor. He got up to see chaos both on the deck, and around him. One of the Arleigh Burke destroyers right next to his ship was a massive inferno. It was still floating, but was most definatly out of the fight. One the deck, a lynx chopper was blown across the flight deck, and fire crews rushed to extinguish flames all over the ship. Slightly behind the fleet, one of the logistical support ships was standing upright in the water, sinking slowly. Ahead of the fleet, a Virginia class cruiser was on its side, the crew still trying desperatly to pump out water and salvage the ship.
"HAVE THE VOLCANOES OPEN UP!!!" the admiral roared. Each arsenal ship held 132 missiles, so between the two ships, 264 missiles screemed towards the city. This was assisted by another 36 missiles from the carrier group.
"Bring that Penal Legion across from North Estovania. Nobody cares about them back at home, and hopefully their sacrifice will force the Estovanian army to turn around"
Soon, the 2,500 infantry men and 500 tanks were heading across from North Estovania, hoping to cause a large enough distraction to save the men at Fort Hart

"MAJOR" someone shouted from within the Tent, Jason looked round at the same time aswell as Sasha, for a moment ignoreing the woman.

"what is it Specilist?" The Major replyed, she looked rather annoyed but knew no one shouted unless something big had happened.

"It seems all out war has broken out" The Specilist reported.

"ahh shit, do they know we're here?" she replyed.

"dont know...."

"have the base on full alert, contact CSF command inform them of the situation......this isnt good"

"i guess we need to get our mission over and done with fast then" Jason said.

"yes...get it done now."

Jason turned to Natalya, "Sasha over there will take you to get your kit, we're moving out on foot so i hope you can keep up."

OOC: god dam writers block.

Secure Communique from First Army Headquarters

From: General Tate
To: Major Iltchenko

There is a lot to do. Too much to do in a matter of fact, Major. If any troops are trained in street fighting, they will come in handy soon. Estovakian self-propelled artillery are bombarding the Estonavian lines and we have sent out patrol forces, too. Satellite imagry has shown that this is the perfect time to attack. Our mechanized infantry is moving up to attack and our armoured units are already prepared to launch their offensive.

Gromadin Forest

Sergeant Alvarado trudged carefully through the pine leaves, twigs, and rubbish typical of a forest floor. His mission was a long and tedious one. Watching, looking, and listening over and over again. It was tedious, boring affair, only broken by brief surprises and times of sheer adrenaline.

He was quiet, and almost stealth like, or as much as the undergrowth and forest debris would let him. The somewhat foggy, damp, and dank air drove his nose crazy, and try as he might not to sneeze, he did a few times, although he stifled them into his uniform sleeve. When he did sneeze he froze and listened. He never did hear anybody else, apart from his squad. It was impossible to see long distances though, and he didn’t know what was out there.

Looking into the distance, he realized it was just a haze of gray. He couldn’t see much and he figured even without the fog and haze he wouldn’t be able to see much anyway with how dense the foliage was. He figured that he was in danger if he couldn’t see them, but they likewise were in danger if they didn’t see him either. This kind of fighting he dreaded. Whether you lived or died depended on luck, not skill. If your opponent was in the wrong place at the wrong time, he would be as clear as a shot as any. If you were in the wrong place, well he didn’t want to think about it.

“Shit,” one of his soldiers mumbled. His G-36’s sling had gotten tangled on some of the undergrowth. As he tried to get his G-36 untangled, Alvarado heard subtle movement not far from himself. A few rustling leaves perhaps from a wild animal. But Alvarado didn’t want to take the chance. He silently raised his G-36 to the ready and a few of his squad members got the hint that something might be up. They too raised their weapons and no sooner had they done that than two men leaped out of the fog right in front of Alvarado.

Alvarado wasted no time in drilling one of the men with 5 well placed shots to the chest at point-blank range. Yet for some reason it did not stop the man who lunged forward with his FN-FAL and his hand on the trigger. Alvarado put two more well-placed shots, this time to the guys head, and the man finally keeled over dead. By now the other man had swiveled toward the Sergeant and was about to fire. Alvarado instantly raised his rifle butt over his head when a squad member put two bullets into the enemy soldier, thereby reliving the danger to the Sergeant.

The two men were the least of his problem. Mortar rounds began to fall around him. They shot wide or back a little ways, but any mortar round exploding at any distance was too close for comfort. Bullets whizzed by the Sergeant as he took cover behind trees. Pieces of bark and chucks of wood splintered of the tree Alvarado was hiding behind. He was facing the rest of his squad members who were engaging the enemy. His machine gunner laid down suppression fire while two other members circled around his right. They caught a few soldiers off guard and kill them all, but more were still coming. Alvarado guessed he was facing a whole platoon.

“Gunner!” he yelled to his machine gunner “Stop firing until you get a definite shot!”
He didn’t want the MG to lead the enemy platoon to his exact position. However, bullets coming from behind as well as the front had meant that the enemy had definitely encircled him.

“Squad, move south!” he barked to his squad. They provided cover fire for each other, moving tree to tree and running brief periods to keep from being totally entrapped.

While his troops and himself were providing cover fire for his machine gunner, the machine gunner was hit in the arm by a bullet. “Fucking god damn bullet!” he screamed. A grenade launched from a grenade launcher exploded right under him immediately afterwards showering Alvarado and his men with several pieces of burnt or singed flesh and what seemed to be gallons of blood. It was too much for one of his soldiers who briefly screamed hysterically. Over the din of the fighting, however, it was muffled and barely noticeable.

Alvarado grabbed his radioman, a young boyish man of 23 years. “I need you to call Platoon HQ and tell them we’re under heavy attack. Mortars from NNE, and taking fire from the West, North, and East. Moving south towards unnamed creek approximately 12 kilometers from Highway 10. I dunno what other kind of info I can give you since our GPS took a hit from shrapnel but we should be around Foxtrot Hotel Six-Two.”

A mortar round exploded nearby kicking up dirt and wooden shrapnel from exploding trees. He grabbed the radioman and he and his squad briefly sprinted to a downward slope, hit the dirt, and faced back up the direction the just came from. “Corporal, I need you to make the call now!”

The radioman quickly alerted Headquarters of the situation.

Headquarters responded back. “Mother Goose to Alvarado. Estonavians are launching a small counter attack, approximately two companies. We are pressed for the moment. We might be able to patch you into contact with a small patrol unit of two men and a jeep about 1 kilometer SSE from your position. Try to regroup there. Hopefully, you might be able to escape and evade them as they continue on their path west.”

The radio clicked a few times and made some static sounds until another voice different from HQ could be heard. “This is Corporal Vazquez, Sergeant Alvarado do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Corporal. What’s your status?”

“Quiet, sir. We are currently at an abandoned cabin. Nice and cozy. Care to join us?”

“As soon as we can Corporal. Be on the lookout for us or the enemy and see if you can construct some sort of defenses, any defenses. Over and out.”

Although well trained, thanks to the intensive course at NORDLAND, the VDV man who was fresh to No.2 Platoon, 1.Coy, 2nd Battalion, Russkyan Battlegroup had not seen blood before. Well, he had, and blood from combat wasn't much different. The difference came mostly from the ripped-open abdomen and the pale, mottled-grey skin of the dead Estonavian government soldier, one hand still curled around the pistol-grip of his FN-FAL rifle. Three dead nearby militiamen lay in all manner of undignified death by shrapnel, one of their M-16A1 rifles broken at the reciever by the force of the blast that had also taken off his legs and lay his torso ahead of the red smear on the green, damp grass. The desantnik, unused to such sights, vomited. His Section 2iC, a Corporal, tapped him twice on the shoulder and bade him to watch his sector.

Second Battalion had moved ahead of the forward base. First Battalion, having fought in Estonavia for all this time, was on slightly less hazardous duties, besides, it just made sense to deploy the fresh troops into the offensive. Working alongside their Estovakian allies, the Russkyans were operating to the South of Highway 10, fighting in the forest. If there was one place where you did not want to fight Russkyan soldiers, no matter their unit, no matter their service branch, it was in the forest. Each rifle section leapfrogged ahead, and the Lieutenant radio'd back to his Captain every kilometer. So far the advance had been relatively easy, with only fifteen casualties; eight lightly wounded, three severely, and four dead. All had been evacuated. The L-16ISCs were unable to fight in the forest, and so hung back in hull-down positions, all gathered in a "Zulu Harbour" near the Battalion's forward HQ.

Major Iltchenko, wearing Telnyashka, blue beret, and fatigue trousers bloused into the VDV-issue combat boot, had issued the move order to 2.Batt as they'd been formed up next to their vehicles in combat order. It was a hasty operation, the Russkyans had no warning of the Estovakian advance. Of course, the rapid advance would hopefully enable them to reach Karadjevo with fewer casualties than they might otherwise have had.

In terms of troops trained for FIBUA, a rifle section belonging to the Russkyan Black Glengarry Regiment had arrived. They were operating in a loose skirmish line ahead of the advancing battalion's recce platoon, and slipped past the enemy in the forest, attacking from behind while the leading elements struck them hammer-hard from the front. They were looking forward to Karadjevo; the rest of their Platoon was behind them, and behind those men, the Company, and an entire Battalion of the feared Glengarries. Fewer troops in Russkya were better suited to close-in combat. The distinctive 'bangs' of the MBRS rifles and the ripping chatter of their machinegun heralded many deaths. Already three of their eight had been lightly wounded.

The fog enabled rapid movement for the Russkyans, the thermal imagers on their L-16s had allowed them to close rapidly and fairly safely with Gromadin Forest. Now it was a dismount job. The desantnikii, missing their comrades in the Assault Helicopter and Transport Helicopter squadrons, continued their advance.

--

"Coops!"

The man looked at him, the black glengarry securely on his head, black tassels tucked into the back of his collar. His gloved hands held a MBRS rifle with a T-03 underbarrel grenade launcher, and his belt sported a hatchet of Norse design, 'bearded axe,' and that was fiercely sharp.

"Left, and forward. Take Sloane and Ossian, take the OP down quiet, and then come on back to us."

The speaker looked over his left shoulder while Corporal Cooper and his two comrades crept out into the fog-shrouded forest. The remaining five men contracted into a defensive circle, and the radio clicked once as the patrol Sergeant radioed V2R with their location.

--

Using the confusion provided by the Estovakian's hurried attack, the LRRPs had surged through the line one dark night, and now rested rather close to Karadjevo. Rested was a relative term - they were staying still, and were alert, in a superbly camouflaged position. The advanced masts on both Fenneks were operating, and inside one Fennek, the soldier with the scarred face radioed Major Iltchenko's battle-staff target information and other recce data. Already they'd located most of the Estonavian artillery positions in the South, and they'd carefully marked the positions of their antiaircraft batteries.

--


F/Russkyan Battlegroup
T/ Gen. Tate

Russkyan forces engaged alongside yours, operating immediately South of Highway 10. The Estonavians will soon find out that we have trained many long weeks to fight in forests. Messenger group enroute to your headquarters with target list and information, recommend you 'service' designated AA targets as soon as possible with artillery, clears the skies for us. One battalion of the Black Glengarries Regiment is enroute to Estonavia, should street-fighting become a nessecity in Karadjevo, these men will be invaluable. Your troops fight well and my men have no compunctions fighting alongside them. Frothing disease to your enemies and good hunting, General.

- Major Iltchenko.

OOC: Apologies for the double-post and entirely OOC here. You see, I was originally intending on moving a battalion of the Black Glengarries in here, and in retrospect it seems like a bit of a god-mode to have them coming in now. Assume that as they arrive in theatre they're deployed to the frontline, and that they're currently trickling in by Platoon-sized segments. For those folks watching from home but not getting involved, Estonavia is probably one of Estovakia's puppets, and so the wholesale slaughter of his troops isn't a god-mode, otherwise I'm sure we'd both (Estovakia and I) be hesitant to mention the numbers of dead and the like in our posts.

And although I hate to do it, may this post serve as a fancy, oversized Bumping.

OOC: i guess I owe an apology to you all. I have been busy in RL and will be for a few more days. Which really, really sucks!

I'll try, but don't hold your breath. I won't let the thread die, but my posts will be few and far between for about the next 7 days.

OOC: think you can respond to my missile attack/invasion soon?

"Call for relief!" Colonel Firestone shouted. 4 more men were nw dead. 7 more were wounded. The Secret Police in the field were trying to make their way back to the fort, but it might be awhile. Radiomen began frantically radioing to the Russkyan and Estovakian forces, begging for reinforcements to the fort.

Although he remained a Major, Iltchenko, bare-chested and wearing an OTs-33 in a drop-leg holster that was attached to the belt holding his battledress trousers up over combat boots, remained the Russkyan Battlegroup's overall commander, a job he was excelling at so far. Granted, it had not been as hard as it could have been, and so far aligning themselves with the Estovakians had worked out superbly well for both sides.

He was - for once - seated, leafing through updated pages from a dossier just placed on his desk which was currently stacked high with intelligence reports and other such information. This dossier contained the current Order of Battle for the Russkyan Battlegroup as of yesterday, and from the original reinforced VDV company, the unit had grown hugely.

[OOC: Because I don't want to break OPSEC and provide an exact list of what I am fielding, I will provide an abbreviated list that lacks the kind of detail I normally like to add, but is what would be easily developed by observing my forces in the field and making some estimations based on logistics traffic and the like. In short, this would be the kind of information your forces might actually be able to possess and thus use.]


VDV Component: Two [2] Battalions. (~1450 combat personnel)
Russko-Celtic Component: One [1] Battalion, Russkyan Black Glengarry Regiment. (~500-700 combat personnel)
Logistics: ~3500-4250 Logistics & Supporting personnel, including specialists such as Armourer, Field Surgical Unit, Two [2] Field Hospitals, Mechanical Detatchment, Military Police Platoon, local-language interpreters, "rear area HQ staff," etc, located at Logistics Field. Some cycle in and out - transport plane flight-crews, etc.
Vehicles: L-16ISC standard with many 'Vixen' variants, some L-15 variants in Specialist Companies (Anti-Armour, Air Defence), ~250-300 machines total, excluding soft-skinned logistics.


Another sheet underneath the one he'd just flipped over gave the numbers for fuel, ammunition, rations, spare parts, and the other nessecities of war. They were all well within 'the green margin,' which meant quite simply that the Russkyans had more than was immediately needed, although that could easily change once Karadjevo was attacked directly. A sheet underneath this one gave casualty numbers and vehicle losses. Although any number besides "zero" on this ledger was too many, a combat-experianced Iltchenko had to admit that the losses were acceptable. This was indeed a phrase he hated with a passion.

Finally, he reviewed his notes and, plugging his ergonomic keyboard into the back of a ruggedized military laptop, as he could use but preferred not to the more difficult laptop keyboard, he wrote them more neatly, and saved the file to desktop, easily accessible for personal reference. He glanced at the clock in the bottom-right of the screen. It gave the local time - 02.47. Soon he'd lay on his rack and stare at the canvas ceiling of the tent until he was able to sleep.

But not quite yet. He stood, closing the laptop's top, and walked into the communications side of the large operations room inside the tent. An alert Communications NCO greeted him.

"When was the last sitrep from the first position?"
"Seventeen minutes ago exactly sir. All is well."
"Convoy coming in?"
"Yes, sir. Another fifteen or so minutes and they should be here. Estovakian troops working in conjunction with a few of our own have been able to secure a few routes, eases things a bit more for us. Fewer bullet marks on the vehicles when they come in, if nothing else. Maybe their shooting is just getting worse."
"That might be. Keep it up, so far so good on your end. I'm going to bed."
"Thank you Major. Sleep well."

Iltchenko nodded blearily, and walked into his 'room.' He unstrapped the holster from his leg and laid it on the crate that served as his bedside table, unfastening it for quick access to the still-loaded Pernach inside in the event of the base being attacked. His personal AKS-74M was leaning up against the crate, although unloaded. He unlaced his boots and left them by the side of his cot, and was - surprisingly enough for him - asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

--

The watch the soldier kept securely inside a breast pocket, well out of sight and any kind of possible reflection from the glass covering the digital display, read 03.15. It was his watch, with two of his comrades. Their rifles were loaded, although set to safe, and the camouflaged soldiers watched from a camouflaged position in the dark of night. Sensors were rigged, traps were set, and in fifteen minutes they would radio HQ again to let them know all was well.

Those fifteen minutes passed, and as the black-haired soldier lifted the handset to his ear from inside the Fennek, the headset he wore spoke quietly into his ear with two clicks. Contact.

"Romeo, Fox Victor, over."
"Romeo."
"Romeo, Fox. Contact made, acknowledge, go."
"Fox, Romeo acknowledges."
"Romeo, Fox Victor out."

He left the vehicle, unfolding the stock of his Kalashnikov-designed, RMSMC-manufactured rifle, and flicking the selector switch down to semiautomatic. The ghostly shapes of his fellow LRRPs moving in the darkness met his night-accustomed eyes, and he flicked his night vision gear down to a useful position. One of the men on the peremiter indicated a night-time Infantry patrol of Estonavian regulars.

They carried Vz.58s, primarily, although the skilled eyes of the recce soldiers saw a few AKMs. A handful of men carried the government-issued FN-FAL rifle. They wore a - rather outdated - "Gymnasterka"-esque uniform that showed up nicely in the patch of woods the Fenneks had been positioned in.

Ordered by a series of handsignals, three men, including the black-haired and scar-faced soldier, left the concealment of their position and crept to set up a hasty ambush. The six men of the Estonavian Government Army patrol moved into the killzone unknowingly.
They died unknowingly as well, in a hail of 5.45x39mm ammunition. In five minutes, their killers had packed up completely and left, leaving no trace that they were ever there except for cartridge casings, some impressions in the soil, and patches of flattened grass.

"Romeo, Fox Victor."
"Go ahead, Fox Victor."
"Romeo, Fox. Issue resolved, no casualties. Continuing operation, currently relocating, over."
"Fox, Romeo. Acknowledged."
"Romeo, Fox Victor out."

Something strange prompted the soldier to remove the watch from his breast pocket again, and the watch-face read 03.41. False dawn would be soon, and the LRRPs would be in another position to observe Karadjevo and its surrounding defences, and then relay that information to their comrades and their Estovakian allies.

OOC: Glorified Bump, as much as I hate engaging in 'bump' actions. Also, apologies for the double-post.

The patrol, one of the near-constant Russkyan patrols, walked into a nightmare landscape. At one time, it was probably a nice place. What was left of trees and bushes and what was lush grass suggested that. Perhaps this small part of Gromadin Forest had been the place for a lover's tryst, a quiet and green-shaded place for a family picnic, maybe there had been a child's tree-house fort in the branches above the forest loam.

There were no branches now. That was a lie, there were branches, just devoid of their leaves. Most of them were broken. Pieces of timber, hewn from the trees that had not survived the bombardment, often manifested themselves as shards of wood, stuck into the ground. Sharp-edged and harshly pointed, these splinters were everywheres, in a few areas, where it looked like a tree or two had taken a direct hit.

Worse, far worse than the splintered trees, dissected bushes, and cratered ground, were the corpses. What was left of them, anyways. Artillery did strange things to the human body - overlapping concussive waves of tremendous force, screaming metal shards called shrapnel, red-, even white-hot, then the environment was even turned against you. Trees created their own shrapnel, wet Earth became very hot steam, and rocks, blasted from the ground and zinging low along the ground violently amputated limbs, steam and blast burnt skin, ripped flesh from bones.

The eight men walked in a double-column, well spaced. The pointman's fist rose in the air, at the level of his shoulders, his left hand, rather than his right. His right remained on the pistol grip of his AKS-74M rifle, issue to the VDV. The section halted, kneeling, facing outwards to cover their sectors of responsibility, and the section leader, a junior-grade NCO, hurried forward to meet his pointman. He knew the man's abilities, he had been combat-tested in Sorachoak, those brutal battles with fanatical Sorachoakai having lent him seemingly sharpened reflexes and senses. The NCO turned around to look over his shoulder, just to confirm what his mind thought, the suddenness of the change.

Behind them lay a nice, albeit dense, forest. Ahead of them laid a wasted zone, with smears of bright blood still fresh, the lingering smell of cordite... and blood. A heavy, coppery tang of a scent hanging mist-like over the ground. Pieces of corpses, entire corpses, flung around, strewn everywheres. More than a few limbs were in tree branches. Half a corpse, pale from blood-loss, pooling beneath it, lay in the fork of two branches, hands reaching upwards, beseeching a God that the Artillery ignored, blue intestines spilling downwards to the ground.

This was not the first time such scenes had been encountered. The patrol spread out, constantly looking, constantly scanning. A desantniik's foot landed next to a broken FN-FAL rifle, its loaded magazine shorn in half, reciever dented, and stock imbedded with a piece of shrapnel. A finger was still inside the trigger guard. Such was the power of modern artillery, as another Estonavian patrol had learnt. Soon the combined Estovakian and Russkyan forces should be through Gromadin Forest, through Gromadin, along and over Highway 10, and into Karadjevo's outskirts.

"What have you got?" Colonel Firestone asked his radioman. Artillery fire shook the base.

"No response yet sir"

"Try some more, or I fear we may be overrun"

"Yes sir"

More desperate pleas went from Fort Hart to the Russkyan and Estovakian forces. There was only about 900 men in the fort. They would soon be facing an entire Estovanian rifle division.

"Intel?"
"Nothing new. Next recondo satellite pass will be in... four hours."
"Still no luck getting one tasked to a geosynchronous orbit over the area?"
"None, sir. They say that there are operations ongoing in the FLRJ that require the assets. So we're shit out of luck. Sir."
"Damn."

Only a few frequencies were used by Russkyan forces, and these were the only ones continuously monitored. Because an EINTEL/EWAR (Electronic Intelligence / Electronic Warfare) detatchment was not present with the Russkyan battlegroup, the other frequencies were only monitored intermittently, and there was no real jamming or deencryption capability.
A Commstech scribbed down a half-message on a sheet infront of him, spoke into the microphone of his headset, and wrote down the completed message, half-turning in his chair to hand it to the nearest officer around the map table.

"Breaking news report at Eleven!"

Iltchenko looked up from the map table, where he'd been examining the routes the 201st Rifle Division (Estovanian) could take further inland.

"Just read it, Lieutenant."
"Yes sir!"

The officer read the message and Iltchenko looked back down at the map.

"Look. The Exponent - no, wait. Blackhelm Confederacy troops now, isn't it? Their forces, if they have sufficient men, more than five hundred combat troops, should be able to hold their position. If nothing else, conduct a fighting withdrawl. Aren't these the same guys who held up one of our patrols a few weeks ago?"
"Yes sir, they are."
"Wunderbar. Well, I can't help them, we don't have the forces and the forces we do have are committed to attacking Karadjevo and defending our own positions. I can't see any reason they wouldn't be able to fall back, they're not encircled yet, I don't think so, at least. Do we know yet?"
"No, sir."
"Four hours, then. Let me know the moment we get the updated photos."
"Yes, sir!"

Iltchenko pulled his beret from out under his left epaulette and pulled it on over his head as he walked out of the command tent to find the engineering laager. He wanted to expand the minefield to the North of their position.

It was night but it was as bright as day over Karadjevo as searchlights and explosions rocked the city and the surrounding territory. Estovakia’s entire stealth air force, 2 B-2s and 5 F-117s, had targeted several AA batteries around the heavily fortified capital. By daybreak, it would be feasible to actually launch normal bombers. Colonel Metzger, in a forward operations base, was listening to radio intercepts while reading intelligence reports, neither of which gave good news.

First, the Confederacy was sending out distress calls regarding a situation Estovakia couldn’t really do anything about. Estovania’s army, or the portion that was mobilized, consisted of around 500,000 men- half a million men. Estovakia’s army, even fully mobilized, didn’t consist of that many men. At that moment, Estovakia’s army was a fifth of Estovania’s. Sure, Estovakia could call upon the National Police, Civil Guard, or the Confederati - Commonwealth soldiers and Free State soldiers - undoubtedly Estovakia would win, but it would be a long drawn out victory, pyrrhic at best, that would destroy both countries.

Second, intelligence reports stated that General Metznic, the new commanding officer of the Estonavian armed forces, was preparing to move south to a more defensible position. With traffic jams along the only major road to the front, it was doubtful that Estovakia was going to capture Karadjevo whole, or even at all, before the front collapsed and the Estovanians rolled through. At the moment, the 2nd Division and parts of 5th and 6th Division from II Corps were all that were fully prepared for the assault.

A Major, not of the Army but of the Black Guard went up to Colonel Metzger who rose to greet him.

“Sir,” the Major said while saluting, “I have a personal message from High General Tuulenev.”

Colonel Metzger opened the message.



To Colonel Metzger:

You will head a Battalion-strength unit of blackshirt elements. Generalissimo Maxwell has officially given permission to command these elements as well as a platoon size unit of the Estovakian Signal and Intelligence Corps. Your mission will be to be one of the spearheading units into Karadjevo. It is imperative that you capture or kill the President of Estonavia and its General Metznic. Do not come back without at least one of the objectives completed. Estovakia has a particular hatred for ineptitude, cowardice, and treason.

Sincerely,

High General Tuulenev,
President of the Estovakian Fascist Organization

Metzger crisply saluted, and the Major went on his way. Metzger then crumpled the letter. He knew why they’d send him, a desk officer, on a near impossible mission to capture two high ranking officials. Metzger, like General Tate, were one of the very few senior officers that kept their job following the transition from the democratic government to the fascist government because he was good at what he did. That didn’t mean the fascist government wasn’t going to try to run him through the mud to discredit him and get him killed. It didn't help he was openly pro-democratic.

He got back to his desk and sent for a runner to give a message to the Blackhelm soldiers. He didn’t want to send a communiqué to them; otherwise, it would give Estonavia an excuse to declare war. Instead he asked if they could move east and rejoin the Estovakians. Metzger completely doubted that all 900 men would make it, especially since it was virtually impossible to carry the equipment necessary to support all 900 men, and the fact that the casualty rate would be high. He figured around a half would make it, which was good enough, and he thought well enough of the Blackhelm soldiers to ask them to do so.

He also asked a captain to radio a message to the Russkyans to ask if they were any good at street-fighting, for he hoped they would be. estovakia would need their help. They were outstanding so far, he hoped they'd be able to take part in the action.

A full Brigade of the Russko-Celtic Corp's "Black Glengarries" Regiment had arrived in the Estonavian theatre of operations.

Overhead satellite imagery and intelligence was not entirely promising. The LRRPs to the South of Karadjevo reported that it looked as if the enemy was preparing to flood back their way, to more defensible zones in the South, which would leave the Estovanians free to flow through down into Karadjevo.

Iltchenko looked up from the dispatch at the officer wearing the characteristic headdress of that one Regiment, his MBRS rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Are your men any good at urban combat?"

His response was a laugh, then a grin, followed by:

"Aye, Major. You might say that."

Col. Firestone recieved the Estovakian message, and agreed to abandon the fort. As quickly as possible, the men in Fort Hart piled into whatever behicles were available, and sped away from the base, heading back to Estovakian lines.

[OOC: I will be gone for several days, I suspect from 20-24/25 of this month, because I will be burying my cousin. Excuse my absence.]

[OOC: I will be gone for several days, I suspect from 20-24/25 of this month, because I will be burying my cousin. Excuse my absence.]

OOC: i was pretty busy myself. i wasn't able to post anyway (sorry to the Blackhelm confederacy).

Deepest sympathies.

OOC: First things first. As is patently obvious, I am back. My cousin's funeral went well, I didn't expect my aunt and uncle to cremate him. Buried the ashes though, so at least I have somewheres to leave cans of beer - he'd appreciate those a lot more than flowers. Best regards, Estovakia, thank you. Have you gotten my latest telegram?

IC:

From the Logistics Field, offloaded the Russian-designed heavy lift aircraft that came in with the regular supply flight, a full battery (ten) towed gun-howitzers arrived for the Russkyan contingent. These were the new L14FH 155mm guns, and would provide a measure of organic artillery support to the Russkyan battlegroup.

They were brought forward in a supply convoy, towed by their primary haulers, which were in this case, ZIL-131/R trucks, of Russkyan manufacture with some "slight" upgrades to the powerplant and transmission. Many more trucks carried forward plenty of ammunition, including a somewhat limited supply of extended range munitions.

In addition to the L14FHs and their gunners, much more 9.3x39mm and 9.3x64mm ammunition, used in the "Dona Goaithe" general-purpose machinegun and MBRS assault rifle, both of indigenous Russkyan manufacture and design, was brought forward to supply the Black Glengarries detatchment, who prepared themselves for action in Karadjevo, in support of their Estovakian allies.

OOC: I never know what to say when someone dies, I'm sorry for your loss

The Confederate soldiers decided the best way to make the withdrawal work would be to leave a rear guard. They chose 50 of the Estonavians, and kept them in the base. The rest of the troops sped off towards friendly lines, hoping for the best.

OOC: I hope you don't get offended if I answer your telegram publicly but Blackhelm might also want to see.

What is the situation? Have our forces passed through Gromadin and Gromadin Forest yet? Russkyan troops are highly skilled in fighting in forests. Describe Highway 10 to me? If we could run alongside it we could bypass most of these traffic jams and punch into Karadjevo's suburbs pretty quick.

Answer: Apparently there was a defensive line in the forest. Military intelligence missed it because they downplayed the significance of it (they thought it might be scouts or skirmishers or irregular infantry, not a whole defensive line), couldn't see it (dense forestry), and a lack of activity (ie
ammo trucks, supply convoys, etc.) that would accompany such a force. They didn't stay in the lines however, as they know they are going to lose, but by charging or assaulting while we are still moving up stuff, they hoped to disorganize us and get a better surrender favorable to them.

Highway 10 is the major road, with about 4-7 lanes going in each direction. The traffic jams are caused by military elements moving up the highway. As it is one of the only roads in many areas, everything has to move up. As the forests are dense and they surround the highway as one gets closer to Gromadin , it makes it hard to bypass the highway as one would be in forest.

The problem with us is that massing formations is difficult as the dense forestry bottlenecks any major front being formed by any armoured units as they can't really travel very well in the forest. Infantry formations are also difficult. However, the problem the Estonavians face is that they are split in two by the river as they are attacking north and east. The eastern forces have to cross the river, however the Estovakian Air Force has finally bombed out all but one bridge so this should halt/slow down the estovanians from attacking from the east. If the worst happens, that force will take about a third of the city. Blocking the northern force will be hard as there isn't much room to maneuver to cut them off without smacking directly in the city.

What we are trying to do is take a city comparable to the size of Baghdad yet instead of preparing for half a year like America has done in the first Gulf war and in 2002/2003, we are doing it on the fly. Fortunately, the native citizens are a lot more receptive of this than the Baghdad citizens are with their occupation. We have a lot of help from the inside of the city, and good intelligence there, so it shouldn't be that much of problem getting through. As the army is heading southward and not disbanding, that will mean a lot less insurgents will be joining the street fighting and only a hardcore few amongst the citizenry will duke it out.

OOC: All-right, good to know, good to see you posting again. I will respond publicly:

Yes, I understood that Highway 10 was the major road out, and I understand that it is bordered by trees, but I was hoping there were "Grassy Shoulders" on the highway that would enable us simply to sprint ahead, and force any ambusher to open fire from less than point-blank range. This would unfortunately appear to not be the case.

As to manuever, with the maps that I have, I would suggest taking a taskforce and slicing SE through the line and bypassing Gromadin forest. Appropriately reinforced, this could become the spearhead of an operation that would ideally make the Estonavians fear encirclement in the "Gromadin Line" and withdraw Northwards, hoping to hook out and away from our troops to reach the suburbs of Karadjevo, linkup with withdrawing forces, and flee to the South, presumably on Highway 12. Regarding this, I assume the grey to mean "city" and the darker grey to mean "dense urban tangle." The green I presume to be kind of "undulating terrain with bushes and some trees" rather than this dense forest.

OOC: All-right, good to know, good to see you posting again. I will respond publicly:

Yes, I understood that Highway 10 was the major road out, and I understand that it is bordered by trees, but I was hoping there were "Grassy Shoulders" on the highway that would enable us simply to sprint ahead, and force any ambusher to open fire from less than point-blank range. This would unfortunately appear to not be the case.

As to manuever, with the maps that I have, I would suggest taking a taskforce and slicing SE through the line and bypassing Gromadin forest. Appropriately reinforced, this could become the spearhead of an operation that would ideally make the Estonavians fear encirclement in the "Gromadin Line" and withdraw Northwards, hoping to hook out and away from our troops to reach the suburbs of Karadjevo, linkup with withdrawing forces, and flee to the South, presumably on Highway 12. Regarding this, I assume the grey to mean "city" and the darker grey to mean "dense urban tangle." The green I presume to be kind of "undulating terrain with bushes and some trees" rather than this dense forest.

OOC: The dark green would be the Gromadin forest itself. The lighter green would be open field (ie towns suburban and rural areas). Be aware there are numerous towns, although they are not worth mentioning. The grey does mean city/urban areas. Cistowes and Gromadin are the two biggest cities around Karadjevo and help make up part of the metropolitan area. A little under a million people live in those two cities.

The dark grey area doesn't necessarily mean "dense urban tangle." It is denoting where City of Karadjevo is within the overall Karadjevo.

Sounds confusing? I know. Think of it this way. I don't know if you are familiar with London but there is London and within London there is The City of London. The City of London is the oldest or biggest commercial district/area of London (I'm not sure which I don't live there) and it has its own police force. It is somewhat separate from the rest of London government-wise.

In other words, the lighter grey denoting "Karadjevo" would be they many buroughs or sections or areas that make up the whole city. There are a mix of commercial buildings, residential structures, and on the fringes of the city would be quite a bit of industry. The City of Karadjevo on the other hand, contains the oldest commerical buildings and also the highest, the costliest, and the biggest commerical buildings of the whole city. It is the heart of the Karadjevo in its entirety. Cafes and bohemian apartments, residential structures, and factories are not to be found here. This is where corporate Estonavia resides, where their headquarters are, where the banking is. In this situation it is also where the Presidential Palace and Parliament is located and securing it better justifies our stance to the Estonavians. It secures our legitimacy over who controls Estonavia.

Karadjevo is not the military center of gravity, or even political center of gravity. If it falls the military will still fight on and the government will simply relocate. They still have enough resources to keep fighting. Karadjevo however, is the moral center of gravity, that is, when this whole thing blows over, whoever controls the Parliament Building, the main financial center, and the Presidential Palace controls the hearts and minds of the people and legitimizes the country's control by whomever occupies it.

I make poor analogies but, it is like the king's crown. If say, a prince steals the crown, the king is still king, but because he know longer has his crown, there is serious doubt that he is the rightful leader of the throne. We want to eliminate that doubt by not making it an option. Seizing Karadjevo for its population makes it a juicy target, but seizing the Karadjevo for its Parliament building is like saying "We are your rightful government now! We own!"

OOC:
- Now that I understand the map, I understand that this is far more of a challenge than originally anticipated.

I understand the political need to secure Karadjevo. I do not know if my battlegroup can achieve this objective, forces are limited. If they work in support of the Estovakian troops, then it is easily doable, but they cannot spearhead through this terrain. The Black Glengarries, if we can get them into "Old Karadjevo" (Staroye Karadjevo?), would make good troops for securing sensitive structures, given that their training focuses on FIBUA. In the meantime, I can give them some additional seasoning in the smaller towns and the like, accustom them to the fighting style and techniques the Estonavians might employ in Karadjevo and Gromadin proper. Blackshirt commandos would also be suitable, I am sure.

I would assume that we need to allow the Estonavians to withdraw South, rather than trap and annhilate them at this point in time. As such destruction of any Southbound bridges is probably a damned bad idea. The last remaining bridge that the Estovanians can use to move towards Karadjevo, could make for a good target and sub-RP, and makes good military sense, since having to bring up bridging engineers (And those bridges are never as good as peacetime-built ones) will also slow their advance, perhaps by the crucial days we will need. Perhaps a small team, infiltrates and laser-designates? Also possible is another nighttime riverine operation, possibly with Estovakian artillery in support to keep Estonavian / Estovanian heads down and away from the river.

Some more IC posts would be excellent. I will follow up on yours with one of my own, shouldn't be too hard.

OOC: Estovakia would naturally spearhead. I don't think you would have enough troops to do anything otherwise. The key would be to let the Estonavians pull out (why should we fight unnecessarily?) and let the Estovanians do most of the work (again, why should we fight unnecessarily?). However, since the Estovanians would be following right behind the Estonavians, it'd be wise if your men manage to sneak in in-between the Estonavian evacuation and the Estovanian occupation. You'd have the help of at least a platoon (the one under Metzger) in securing the buildings and a 600-man battalion of Estovakians to follow up to your position(under your control, since it'd be better to be under your command where you know where to deploy personally rather than some "armchair general" in Stovakgrad). BTW all the bridges have been blown in the city by bombers already except for one historic one which we might anyway.

IC:

-"Personally, I think fascism is on the way out. I thought fascism was already gone. In this day and age with- with the internet- and the telephone and the e-mails and faxes- it is impossible for the governments to hide the truth from the people. The social and economic regementation that fascism employs ultimately underminds major businesses and stunt economic growth and fascist states end up being tinpot dictatorships with massive unemployment and loss of services."

-"And what makes you, Dr. Pashnikov, so certain of this?"

-"Well Mr. Rabin, look at history, look at fascist Germany and Italy. Did they survive long? No! They came into power because of economic problems but they did not fix it, only hid them and placed the blame on someone else, like Jews."

-"Thank you, Dr. Pashnikov. Dr. Pashnikov's book The Failures of Fascism will hit bookstores July 16th. We'll be right back after these commercial announcements."

Metzger turned off the radio. The tent, a fairly large tent for up to 8 people, became suddenly quiet. "You don't get discussions like this back home. They'd never allow it. This is a Stovakistanni radio station".

Major Hohlev let out a sigh. "Stovakgrada would never allow it."

Metzger took out a cigarette from its pack and lit a match. "Dr. Pashnikov was wrong about one thing. The fascism did help our economy. I'll give the party that. And the party doesn't blame the economy on Jews either. Or other minorites, fortunately. We're- what is it called?- 'modern fascism'? The nation, not race, is above the individual?"

"Careful, Colonel. You're starting to sound like a party recruiter."

Major Hohlev was another democratic supporter, though he was more secretive than Metzger. That didn't stop the party from finding out he was one and sticking him in the same predicament as Metzger, which Metzger found somewhat ironic. Actually, all the officers in the tent shared the same predicament for the same reason.

"Hey, don't get me wrong. Fascism can go to hell. I can't talk, or think, or listen without worrying some blackshirts gonna shoot me and my family. I wouldn't take this if I lived alone but-"

"You don't 'take this', Colonel. That's why you are here, with the seven of us, democratic supporters and non-party members. However, it's a little late to be worrying about your family, Colonel. If you had, you wouldn't have been so horny my friend," the Major butted in.

The Colonel chuckled. "Yeah I was too horny. She tricked me into having kids. Two of 'em."

"The Devil wears many disguises, including a pink nightie, Colonel."

"I know, Major."

"Colonel, getting back to our original subject, did you hear what happened about a week ago in Stovakgrad?"

Metzger became instantly puzzled. "Demonstration?"

The Major stared at him seriously. "30,000 marched on Parliament demanding equal rights. You see, 60% of all Estovakians aren't native born and the native born Estovakians-"

"Are feeling left out?" The colonel interjected.

It's costing us. 7th Division was supposed to be mobilized and headed to the front. Instead, it's stuck in Estovakia in case something massive happens."

"I didn't know that, but I hear we're going through with our attack tomorrow. They managed to sneak some armored units in the forest. The Air Force has finally managed to take out all the AA batteries and units, and they have free reign now. Tommorrow they are going to bomb the lines in front. The next day our armored units are going to puncture a hole, the mech units are going to drive through that hole, and the reg[ular]s are going to hold and occupy. We're all set to go. The day after tomorrow we get moving. The allies know of our plan. Let's get some sleep. Tommorrow, we do our final equipment check. It'll take us a few days, fighting in suburbs- and farms- and we'll be in Karadjevo by the end of the week for sure. We won't have anytime to check or requip until then so make sure you have everything tommorrow."

"I will Colonel, I will." The major turned off the gas lamp and went to sleep. The colonel did the same.

OOC: Estovakia would naturally spearhead. I don't think you would have enough troops to do anything otherwise. The key would be to let the Estonavians pull out (why should we fight unnecessarily?) and let the Estovanians do most of the work (again, why should we fight unnecessarily?). However, since the Estovanians would be following right behind the Estonavians, it'd be wise if your men manage to sneak in in-between the Estonavian evacuation and the Estovanian occupation. You'd have the help of at least a platoon (the one under Metzger) in securing the buildings and a 600-man battalion of Estovakians to follow up to your position(under your control, since it'd be better to be under your command where you know where to deploy personally rather than some "armchair general" in Stovakgrad). BTW all the bridges have been blown in the city by bombers already except for one historic one which we might anyway.

OOC:
Good to know about the bridges, I was referring to the historic one which might need demolition. But I don't think that's nessecary. So, if I understand, this is a race, essentially? If I can put a line of troops inside the areas we need, the Estovanians will stop their advance rather than engage Russkyan or Estovakian troops? My only threats are the Estonavians, at this time? If so, most excellent.

IC:

"Check that again, mate."

The Private jumped onto the grill again, in full battle gear, with his rucksack. The grill shifted, and one of the welds came undone.

"God damn it. Okay, weld it up again, try once more. If that doesn't work, fuck it. Just duct-tape it in. All the other Vixens are good to go?"
"Aye, sir, they are."

The L-16ISC "Vixen" vehicles were being modified in preparation for city fighting. "Slat" armour was being welded on, to reduce or negate the effectiveness of RPGs in a much more Infantry-friendly manner than the standard Russkyan ERA would. Additional coats of Crinoline paint were applied once the welding was done, in the traditional Russkyan vehicle camouflage pattern. The gunner of this particular Vixen checked and rechecked his weapon, swinging the turret around the full three-hundred and sixty degrees, elevating his gun and depressing it as low as it could go. Everything was in the green.

Sufficient vehicles had been provided to lift the Black Glengarries at a rapid pace alongside their Estovakian allies to their objective. The plan was for a two-company strong formation would assault and capture the Estonavian Parliment structures and other sensitive government buildings. The remainder of the Battalion would move in as the situation allowed, acting as a "Fire Brigade," storming key-points that were staunchly defended, if it came to that.

"Try it again, Sloane."

This time the fully-loaded soldier landed firmly on the rails and they didn't budge.

"It's good, Captain."

--

"Vanya!"

The blue-beret clad head jerked up from cover and looked towards the Black Glengarry NCO in a depression fifty meters distant. A burst of LMG fire forced him to drop his head again, lest it be ripped off.

"Yeah, John?"

In the off-chance that one of the Estonavians understood English and was in earshot to hear it, the Black Glengarry switched to Russkyan.

"Stay down!"
"I figured that out, thank you! Any other pearls of wisdom?!"
"We'll get around to the left! Smoke in three! Withdraw to the treeline!"
"Smoke in three!"

The VDV NCO rolled over onto his back and took a smoke canister from his vest. His squad's radio operator handed up another smoke canister. He pulled the cotter pin on the first and tossed it out, barely two meters, and the second went out five meters. A billowing cloud of white smoke, with another cloud of yellow smoke from the second canister, concealed the Russkyan VDV men as they fell back in good order from the ditch they'd sheltered in, running back towards their assault bags which lay in the treeline they'd advanced from earlier.

And the distinctive barking of the "Dona Goaithe" GPMG, 9.3x64mm, could be heard, the chattering noise keeping Estonavian heads down. A high-pitched scream suggested that someone had been hit, but no-one had called out in Russkyan about it, and the Black Glengarries weren't very likely to scream in pain. Scream insults, yes, but not that kind of high-pitched wail. Two MBRS rifles opened up, and a dull thump suggested that one of the T-03 underbarrel grenade launchers had been fired, a thought confirmed when the concussive bang was heard just two seconds later.

Firing tapered off for a few seconds, and the VDV rearranged themselves in a skirmish line, firing their weapons into the objective area until the radio headset spoke into the VDV NCO's ear:

"Vanya, cease fire, cease fire. Cut down any fucker who runs out, but cease fire on the structures. Acknowledge, go."
"I hear ya, John. Over."

There was no response, but Vanya saw the moving shape that kicked down the door, heard the war-screams of the Russko-Celtic men, and saw a man jump from a window, running panicked in the Estonavian Gymnastorika uniform, before a Celt seized him from behind and smashed the blade of his entrenching-tool down on his back.

The two squads regrouped in the small, small hamlet - four buildings and a large barn - on the slight ridge in the woods, inaccessible to their two L-16s, which were back in a "Zulu Harbour" a half-kilometer distant.

"So, one prisoner, seven dead. Any casualties?"
"McKanicus was hit in the left arm, he'll live. Just a graze, Senior Sergeant."
"Right. We should be getting back, Master Corporal. Radio the L-16s, tell them to pass it on to Brigade, they'll probably want to know. All-right boys! Let's police these weapons, line up these bodies so the Estonavian civilians can recover them later, and get out of here. Another small village the Estovakians can say we have."

A medic looked up from Pte. McKanicus' arm, wrapping an OD-green field dressing around the cut, glancing over to the Estonavian prisoner.

"He's just bruised. Hit hard on the back with the flat of the tool, he's not bleeding."

--

"India Two Echo reports village Tango-Nine secured, one prisoner, seven enemy dead, no casualties, Major."
"Very good."

Iltchenko turned back to the gathered Black Glengarry officers, looking over the map of Karadjevo. The planning continued. Now, just to check interoperability of the Estovakian forces... and that could pose problems. Iltchenko ordered his comms chief to send a message to the Estovakians. It read:


T/ General Tate's Staff
F/ Russkyan Battlegroup
S: Unit Interoperability.
/

Request that any units designated to operate in close cooperation with Russkyan forces be deployed to our current position to meet with Black Glengarry specialists and confer. Check attached data-file, updated satellite imagery, including thermal imagery, of Karadjevo and the Northern side of Karadjevo included for your analysts.

Vlad was quite bored. Sitting inside a "Boris", a moderately cramped but extremely well known car on the Stovakian Peninsula, parked in a parking deck opposite the Estonavian Parliament building was not all it was cracked up to be. He tried listening in on his partner's cell phone coversation but found listening into his partner's cellphone conversation impossible.

"Yes Colonel." "Of course, Colonel." "It will be done."

Vlad noticed his partner Miroslav, was checking for his Glock 18 hidden under his black leather jacket. He switched hands for holding the cellphone with, then felt the other side of his jacket and pulled out a silencer.

"We will not fail, sir."

Miroslav then hit 'end', and put the cell phone away. He began to take out his Glock 18 and attach the silencer to it. while he did so, he began to speak.

"Colonel Metzger has confirmed that our forces will be attacking in two days. Before then, we need to do something with Herman Brors."

Herman Brors, Vlad knew, was the lead Parliamentary figure in Estonavia. In addition to being a lead politician and third in line for the Presidential office, he was also somewhat of a paid informant for the Stovakian Union, which in turn sold information to Estovania.

Vlad got out of the car and stretched. He then looked around cautiously before opening the trunk of the car and stripping to his underwear before pulling out a National Police uniform which he quickly put on. In fifteen miutes, Vlad was in front of the Parliamentary building waiting for Herman's routine three o'clock leave.

Sure enough Herman Brors hurried down the main steps and down toward the streets walking with two collegues and a bodyguard.

"Excuse me, sir, but are you Herman Brors?" Vlad asked inquisitively.

Herman Brors and his retinue turned around, the bodyguard watching menacingly.

"Yes I am Herman Brors, what do you want?" the man asked forcefully.

"I just wanted to wish you a good day, sir," Vlad replied innocently.

"Hmph. There's a war going on, officer. And we're losing. There is no 'good day' anymore. If you care about yourself, I suggest you leave." He then walked away with the rest of the group.

As he neared the street corner, Vlad rushed up behind them, protruding a writing pen in front of him. "Sir, did you drop this?" he asked.

Again, Herman Brors turned around. "No, I did not." He looked around to his collegues. They both shook their heads. "No," he replied coldly, "And listen traffic cop I have more important things to worry about then some stupid pen. It would be more beneficial for your job, if you would be kind enough to leave us alone."

Vlad watched as Miroslav rounded the corner with his silenced Glock in hand, first shooting the bodyguard in the back of the head, then Herman Brors' collegues. Herman Brors looked in absolute horror the second before he too shot out a scarlet stream of red on the pavement and crumpled.

"C'mon, the car's around the corner!" his partner beckoned to Vlad.

Vlad tried to grab Herman Brors's briefcase, but confused as to which briefcase was his, as there was two on the ground, he grabbed both and ran into the car which sped off.

Vlad opened the first briefcase, which he instantly found out wasn't Herman's but was even more intensely curious when he rummaged through it.

"Hey, guess what? One of his collegues wasn't another member of Parliament," Vlad said holding up an ID card. "He was EFI [Estovanian Foreign Intelligence]. And apparently he was given the exact coordinates and names of each unit guarding Karadjevo, along with stongpoints and weakpoints."

Miroslav made a quick turn down another street and looked back to make sure they weren't being followed. After all, assasinating a foreign intelligence agent, as well as a lead Parliamentary member, was asking to be shot. "We're in deep shit. We'll contact the Colonel, give him the plans. Then we have to ditch his stuff. We're as good as dead as long as we carry this stuff around."

OOC: Very nicely done.

Through some training exercises back at the two bases and the logistics field, the VDV men had learned to work more closely with the Black Glengarries where required. Because of Russkya's odd cultural makeup, of Germans, Norsemen, Slavs, and Celts, the languages spoken were many, though every Russkyan spoke the Russian-similar language. A third of the Russkyan VDV spoke German and a bit of English, only two of them spoke Gaelic, and surprisingly, one spoke fluent Norse. The rest spoke Russkyan and a smattering of a variety of other languages. With some language training, a few of the Russkyans learnt some Gaelic, the battle-tongue of the Russko Celtic Corps. A little weapons training, and the VDV men were also using the new Russkyan MBRS rifle and "Dona Goaithe" GPMG easily enough. The new machinegun in particular was popular, and it was hoped it would enter general service.

Another village on the road to Karadjevo was due to be attacked. It was late evening, the sun had already set, and through night-vision equipment, Russkyan soldiers scanned the village for any sign of life.

There was a full platoon of men here. The L-16s sported their usual crews, men originally detatched from the Russko-Celtic Corps in order to provide vehicular support to the VDV. The men in the troop-bays however, were now men of the Black Glengarry Regiment, rather than the usual load of blue berets. They were already dismounted from their vehicles, two of which were in a hull-down position overlooking the village. Chances were that they'd been able to get into position undetected, but it was unwise to leave vehicles unguarded by Infantry, as a small group of enemy troops armed with RPGs would be able to turn them into their crew's funeral pyres soon enough. As such, one of the platoon's sections was detailed to protect the vehicles, occupying a small, bush-covered knoll approximately six hundred meters from the village.

The other two vehicles were held in reserve, behind the two in overwatch. Those crews were dismounted and protecting their machines. Meanwhile, the Infantry had crept to within two hundred meters of the small village, and now slight signs of life could be seen. A few faces, presumably civilians - as they belonged to young children and women - peered from windows nervously. There were craters in the ground, perhaps the village had been recently hit by mortar or artillery fire, but the Russkyans didn't know how recently. The Lieutenant, the platoon's commander, quietly chewed his toothpick, his left hand tensing and releasing around the foregrip of his MBRS rifle.

Quickly the plan was changed. Two sections would enter the village with the HQ element/section held in reserve. The section protecting the platoon's vehicles would provide overwatch. To this end, the headquarters element's marksman was deployed to that location. He left the high grasses where the HQ element waited, his SVD-K rifle in gloved hands, moving out at a slow, partly-crouched walk. He reached his destination seven minutes later.

The Sergeant with One Section waved his men forward, and they advanced in a strung-out skirmish line towards the village. Behind them, in "wedge" formation, Two Section advanced, the Master Corporal commanding standing next to his machinegun team. The Marksman with Three Section, by the L-16s, was utterly quiet and focused, his crosshairs tracing the windows and doors and any apertures of the houses he could see.

A Black Glengarry heard a click just as his foot touched ground, near a small house. He froze, and began to call out 'Mines!' but never quite got through it as the mine detonated underneath him a second later, mercifully killing him instantly. His legs went one way and his upper body went the other way, and instantly the other men of his section froze, dropping to a knee, except for the machinegunner, who went prone, bedding his bipod as he did so, carefully and slowly. The blast's echo faded. Two Section began backing up, and then three machineguns opened up on One Section. A bloody ambush - literally. Already four Glengarries were down, two screaming, and the other two still and bleeding explosively, venting blood onto the ground. Immediately One Section snapped to, the Dona Goaithe machinegun ripping off long bursts at the target the gunner could see, the new, specialized ammunition punching through the walls easily, puncturing those inside, knocking them down and in many cases, killing them. Under the protective blanket of fire from underbarrel grenade launchers, rifles, machineguns, and the automatic cannons on the Vixens, two Glengarries grabbed their wounded colleagues, a man slung a dead comrade over a shoulder, figuring him to be wounded, and beat feat towards the remainder of their section, where the Platoon Medic was already waiting, his medical kit open, skilled hands waiting.

The Marksman on the hill swivelled his rifle around, seeing an adolescant face behind a FN-FAL rifle. He pulled the trigger smoothly, felt his rifle punch into his shoulder, saw the head explode and die under the force of the 9.3x64mm slug. The noise of the automatic cannons was deafening, and then on the entire Platoon's frequency, shouting through the radio headset every man wore in this case: "Thermo, thermo, thermo!" The Vixen's commander warned the rest of the Russkyans, who immediately dropped flat and pressed themselves against the ground. The Estonavians continued to fire, but compared to the fury of the firefight not a second before, the noise was definately lessened. Then the screaming release of a GWS.77c Emu ATGM.

IMW-LDS had kindly provided the RMSMC with the designs for the GWS.77 Emu missile, which they had also modified into the .77a, .77b, and .77c. The GWS.77c "Emu," was a thermobaric warhead. A "Nuke in a can," if you would. And it was this missile that streaked out towards a house that blazed defiance at the now-exposed L-16ISCs.

The Emu easily punched a hole in the exterior wall of this house, where the sensors and fuze decided "Now is good." The scattering charge burst, and instantly, a very fine mist filled the house, looking to the occupants like a kind of fog. To one of the Russko-Celts outside, a closed window appeared to fog up, and from open windows and firing ports hastily hacked into the house's structure, some of this mist poured, expanding outside the house as well. Enveloped in the mist, the elasped time being just under a second, the second stage of the thermobaric detonation then occurred. It ignited. There was a sudden flash of flame, and this fireball pushed all of the air out of the surrounding space, creating a vacuum. Flash-burnt badly, confused and dazed and now airless, with the oxygen literally sucked out of their lungs, the surviving Estonavian occupants tried to suck lungfuls of air that simply wasn't there. Then for the next stage: Overpressure. In just a few dozen microseconds, the pressure inside the affected zone reached thirty kilograms per square centimeter; which is four hundred twenty-seven (427lb) pounds per square inch (PSI), and produced a temperature of 2,500 to 3000 degrees centigrade. The surviving Estonavians were literally crushed under this cloud, and incinerated. The house obliterated itself. Reduced to foundation and the very strong structural supports, now bent outwards, the blast-wave continued at three thousand meters per second - exactly three kilometers per second. And that was why the warning had been issued, and that was why the Russkyans were pressed close to Mother Earth, remembering the soil of the Russkyan taiga at NORDLAND training facility. The blast wave continued outwards, damaging other houses in the village with varying degrees of severity, and a hot wind washed over all of the Russkyan troops and the surrounding countryside.

All of the Russkyans stayed low until their ringing ears registered the sound of the whooshing vacuum, a result of such a powerful explosion, dying down. Loose objects had been pulled in to fill the void, and the trees and plants were all defoliated. One Section stayed low, and Two Section advanced into the zone, rushing in their four-man fireteams to the side of houses opposite the village road, before breaching those structures and sweeping them clear in their battle-pairs. Sporadic MBRS fire could be heard, the thud of a grenade, a high-pitched scream cut short. And the HQ element moved in to reinforce, sweeping and clearing other houses. The Lieutenant kicked down a bedroom door, finding an Estonavian soldier and his deafened, bloody girlfriend on a bed. The man's FN-FAL was against the wall to the Lieutenant's left, well away from the Gymnastorika-clad trooper, who was tending to his deafened lover, blood pouring from her ears. For whatever reason, he was not as badly affected. At the motioned gesture, he clasped his hands behind his head and went to his knees. Downstairs, a surviving squadmate of his refused to surrender, and a ferocious Gaelic war-scream was heard, the crash of a parried blow, rifle-stock on rifle-stock, followed by the violent thump of an entrenching tool shredding flesh, the Russkyan ones actually having sharpened edges, and being not unlike a hatchet in violence-dealing potential for close-quarters combat. A second thump as the corpse hit the floor, and a third thwack as the Black Glengarry made sure of his target. The Lieutenant disabled the Estonavian's weapon and motioned for him to take his girlfriend outside, following closely, alerting the rest of the platoon over the radio.

Prisoners were always good for intelligence. The woman was laid down and treated by an overworked medic with blood-smeared hands, who also tended to three other wounded civilians. The total for this operation was two dead, six wounded, one of them fairly seriously, with a bullet through the meat of the shoulder that had clipped the bone. His war was over for a month or two until that healed fully. Estonavian casualties were still being counted, and a even dozen civilians had survived. Unfortunately, a rather large number of them had died, but hopefully the Estonavians would not shield themselves behind civilians in the future - Russkyan doctrines prohibited the risking of Russkyan lives whereever possible, and the troops were trained over their lengthy periods of basic, specialist, and unit training to ignore 'noncombatant' status in certain situations. Hiding behind a civilian "meat-shield" was a sure invitation to have two put in that shield's chest followed by being double-tapped repeatedly yourself, for example.

--

The Officer Cadre had been pruned. Two officers were found to be less than their troops deserved, and were replaced by more competant, superior officers from the Russkyan homeland, who arrived with fresh shipments of supplies, including plenty of thermobaric ammunition for city-fighting, more grenades, smoke canisters, and other equipment. Iltchenko briefed the new officers and let them know of the next briefing, at 08.00 the following day.

Hopefully their Estovakian allies would have more intelligence for them, including a nice and neat picture of how their forces would deploy and where the Russkyan contingent would fit into that, with their assigned objectives.

Iltchenko smiled, he was enjoying himself. It was good to be a field officer below the rank of Colonel in the Russkyan Military. His training and his instincts told him to be near the men he led, and at Colonel and above he was prohibited from going into the field himself, for reasons of command and control. A group of marksmen sat in a circle with their weapons, refreshing urban sniping and counter-sniping techniques. While not strictly snipers, it was a point of individual pride to develop their abilities to come close to matching the superb Russkyan snipers, of which two pairs were scheduled to arrive, carrying bolt-action weapons and their more specialized equipment. These men would make life a pure bloody Hell for their unfortunate opposition whereever they were deployed.

"That village had one bad man, one bad man, and you burned it down!"
Colonel Metzger angrily roared.

Captain Pinzon, of the Black Guard Secret Police, the man who Colonel Metzger was arguing with, replied back in a cool and calm, but a much more authorative manner than his rank should have allowed. "It was a small village of a hundred or so people. It was a guilty town, it was harboring a terrorist."

"It was an innocent town with a stubborn old, man clinging to his nationalism."

"What does it matter? The village is burned, the point is made."

"Your point - their village!" Metzger never did like the Secret Police. They had too much power and they were the fanatics, always putting the Party before anything else, before consciousness and feelings, before humanity, before common sense. If he saw any glint of humanity in him he would have had hope. But the captain, with his pallid blue eyes lacked a certain quality that most men have, that of compassion and decency. The captain could never hope to understand or to even grasp the idea of something beyond his cold complexion and it was evident to Metzger that these were the limits to his life, that the captain would not or even could not change.

The captain stared overbearingly into Colonel Metzger's eyes waiting for some hidden answer, something more which he knew Colonel Metzger wanted to say, but couldn't say, not to a Secret Policeman, an agent for the party that was already looking for excuse to eliminate him. As if to reassure him, and to allay his thoughts, the captain spoke with a calm demeanor, the kind one has when he has done nothing out of the ordinary like a man going to the grocery store.

"Justice has been served. The man is dead, the village burned. What is done, is done Colonel. There is nothing more to be accomplished here. All you can do is move on."

It was cold comfort, it was depressing, but it was true. The captain let the Colonel grasp the meaning of what he jsut said for a moment, and then continued.

"I hope you will leave well enough alone. I wish you luck on the battlefield, Colonel. You are a smart man, its quite evident. Do not let your intelligence and mind from keeping you from your duty to the state. Your outburst, Colonel, was unnecessary, and disgraceful to my status. I may be a lesser rank than you Colonel, but I am still a senior political officer of the Party, for the Party. I am supposed to write a report of your insubordination and for your lack of faith for the Party's will, but I have decided against it. You are a good man, and you have special talents, and to have you 'removed' would be more detremental to the state than it would be beneficial. Now, you best be on your way now. Good luck and safe journies Colonel."

The captain did not wait for a response. He immediately resumed his duties as overseer of the regional Secret Police district. The secret police swarmed- and it seemed multiply- only a few hours after Estovakian forces occupied an area, like maggots to dead bodies. Metzger could not say it enough- he hated, he loathed the Secret Police. He hated their blackshirts, their truncheons and weapons, their fanaticism, their callousness.

Their inhumanity he figured. They weren't men, but shells, with nothing but a rotten soul on the inside. He could see in the captain that at one time he might, might have had compassion, had feeling, but somewhere had become lost, became different, became something else, his loyalty to humanity being replaced to loyalty to the state. He guessed that the captain remembered the memory of feeling empathy, but not the actual feeling itself, as if it were some dream from long ago, fading into the back of the mind, into the haze of time.

Metzger shock the captain out of his mind. It was not time to dwell on 'could have' or 'would have' or 'maybe was' but on actuality and reality, the reality being there was a war, there were men dependent on information that could mean life or death. He could only hope that the Russkyan troops had not encountered the minefields yet, the minefield that were just beyond their last postion, beyond a village that they had not taken yet, at least yesterday. He had only been in radio contact with Estovakian High Command requesting him to hook up with the Glengarries of the Russkyans at a village they recently had taken, which Metzger fathomed might be the village with the minefileld east of it. He did not know, but knew he must get there, whereever the Russkyans were, and his men, loaded up on to troop trucks, began following the roadsides to some nameless village, in some tiny region, in some forgotten country, in an insignificant country...

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

It was nearly twilight, but it was summer, it was warm, and it was a generally good time of the year. Summer had quickly approached; three weeks ago he was freezing in some medical camp recuperating. He still had on vestiges of his winter uniform, for his unit was not refitted with the summer uniform yet, and looked on in envy at the Confederati soldiers from Pacific Estovakia with their tropical uniforms. Fortunately, it was not as hot as it had been the last three days, and even better than the comfort the somewhat cooler temperature provided, the ever so present rancid smell of unshowered bodies was less pungent than it was the last few days.

Sergeant Alvarado looked down at the ground below. Rows upon rows of lush, green forest whooshed by in an endless sea of green. His squad had managed to get a lift on a Hind- the partisan activity and estonavian AA activity had been suppressed or destroyed enough to allow the use of helicopters again- and he enjoyed every minute of it. It wouldn't be long until they arrived at the Russkyan base camp. The helicopter, with five others, was being flown from, somewhat ironically, the city of Alvarado, in central Estovakia. It had stopped for some petrol in "Camp Victory", the tent camp he was stationed in, and with his cunning and quick mind Alvarado realized he could hitch a ride on one of the helicopters, as they were going to the same place as he, without having to sit in a musty, canvas-covered rear of some troop transport. Now his squad was beaming over the forest like some sort of shooting star, with its rocket pods, and cannon and armed men...

The camp was close as the forest soon turned to patches of forest, then open field, then farmland, then scattered hamlets, and then small villages. The pilots had assured him that the Russkyans who were not supposed to know about the Hinds as it was somewhat of a surprise after having been without them for so long, were to be forewarned that the helicopter was friendly not enemy and was not going to be shot down. There was nothing worse, not even a shower of lead or a thunderstorm of shells, then a bullet to the back of the head or straight to the heart by a friendly.

But sure enough, he didn't turn into a fireball of death, and as the Hind eased back to slow itself down, he became a little more relaxed, and a little more thankful that military bureaucracy had come through and didn't let the little man in the helicopter become a burning candle or a beacon of warmth and fuzziness to rain down upon the unforgiving earth. An Estovakian ground crew, next to the Russkyan foward camp, directed the helicopter to an open pasture, and with glowing sticks in hand, the ground crew maneuvered the helicopter into position before it gently touched down.

Though he didn't have official permission, his thirst for alcohol and curiousity for the Russkyans justified his permission for himself to go over with the rest of his squad to visit the Russkyans, who seemed friendly enough. He didn't have much to offer, save his gun, which he needed, two $10 watches he ripped from dead Estonavian soldiers along the way, an Estonavian Passbook, a very small Soviet pin he had acquried during the eradication of Communists and civil war within Estovakia, and a miniature 12 centimeter tall plastic Christmas tree he kept as a sort of good luck charm.

Since he did not possess the "ruggedly-handsome perfectly chiseled face, and well-oiled manly chest" that the Estovakian Army Propaganda movies frequently show as the average Estovakian soldier and "pinnacle for all of the world to envy", he figured he wouldn't have a chance trying to impress anybody with "his physical and mental superiority and superior cultural identity" and to try and act like himself, and if that didn't work, he figured he could bank on the notion that somebody somewhere in the camp was looking foward to a game of dice. He just hoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself. if he did not only would he be embarrased, but he'd have to answer to the officers, and nobody liked to answer to their officers.

OOC: (Every time I post, it says i didn't post in the forum search. Frustrating to say the least.)

OOC: Superb writing, Estovakia.

A half-shaved Blue Beret, clad in Telnyashka and fatigue trousers, burst through the open flap of the Ablutions Tent at the sound of the helicopters. His voice joined the shouted cheers that filled the air as the Russkyan VDV soldiers saw their beloved Mi-24s, the mainstay of Russkyan Assault Helicopter Squadrons, settle down onto the field.
The L-16ISC "Vixen" was nice, no doubt, but it couldn't hold a candle to the joy of the Air Assault soldiers, their lovely, evil-looking, beloved Mi-24 "HINDs."

Black Glengarry soldiers, those who weren't deployed afield that is, looked on bemusedly and went back to their tasks. To them, the Mi-24s, even the Mi-24P/Rs the Russkyans used, were just another form of close-air-support, or a temporary ride, not one symbol of their elite status.

--

A freshly scrubbed VDV NCO, blue beret at the proper angle, boots neatly bloused, and jacket sleeves rolled in the Russkyan fashion, a few centimeters below the elbow, with the collar and top button undone to show the Telnyashka, light-blue and white stripes clean, and polished leather belt, left the Command Tents with a fresh set of rank insignia on his jacket. His name-tape read one of the few Russkyan-Celt names in the mostly Slavic 'Regular Forces,' that name being O'Connor. "Batyana Iltchenko" had recently seen fit to promote him, and despite the promotion being due to a dead colleague of his, he was still happy. It was war, and in war, such things happened.

But 'lo, what was this? An Estovakian soldier, a Sergeant, strolling towards the main gate. Curiosity peaked, O'Connor went to investigate, the Black Glengarries Master Corporal at the gate stepping aside to let the ranking man question the soldier as the gate came up behind him.

"Infantry, aye? What're you here for? Game of dice, perhaps?"

O'Connor had long ago lost his set of dice, when they were literally torn out of his pocket by a mortar splinter that had also gouged a clean, shallow cut in his thigh. His eyes lit up at the prospect, and he reached into his pocket subconciously to palm the pack of cards he always carried.

--

A machinegun team was drawing up their range card for their overnight position at the village, their "Dona Goaithe" GPMG bedded down on its tripod in the freshly-dug machinegun trench, when one of the gunners looked up from attaching the sustained firing sight to the weapon and across to his partner, on the other side of the Russkyan-designed and -produced machinegun.

"Hey Sloane? I hear a truck engine, do you?"

The Lieutenant, wearing his characteristic headdress, helmet slung on his left hip, stood by the village's access road, his MBRS rifle held in the crook of his right arm, his left hand pointing out positions for the HQ Element, in the event that the truck engines the soldiers could hear weren't friendly.

OOC: Apologies for the double-post. Consider this a glorified "bump."

The Russkyan section-sized patrol moved slowly and surely through the forest. There was a stiff breeze, it rippled high grasses and rattled bushes, and with everything seeming to move at once, it wasn't quite safe to proceed. The point-man signalled the halt, left hand leaving the foregrip of his rifle and raising in a closed fist to just above shoulder height.

All eight men slowly sank to their haunches, a few choosing to kneel. They turned to face outwards, as was SOP, and slowly the section went into the defensive huddle, all facing outwards towards the moving forest. The radio operator, the whip antenna of his heavier manpack radio folded and lashed to his left shoulder, the handset hanging over his right, as his headset wasn't plugged into the set, turned to face outwards, and what he saw rooted him to the forest loam. Due to an instinct born of training, he warned the others in a low, Gaelic mutter.

Every man looked around him, seeing the disturbances of the earth, sometimes with metal prongs jutting from the soil. The high grass was no doubt mined as well, and a careful look behind the unit, on the route they'd come, revealed more mines. Every man looked under himself uneasily, and they determined that they occupied about a ten meter square area that was for whatever reason, un-mined.

Without being ordered to do so, the Private with the radio unfastened the whip antenna from his shoulder, letting it stand in the now-stilling air of the forest, and handed the handset to the Master Corporal in command. This radio was already dialled into platoon frequency.

"Romeo, India One Alpha."

There was, uncharacteristically, a delay. Perhaps something was going on at the Plt's forward base, in that village they'd just captured. Supplies arriving, perhaps? But the set should be manned. Bastards, the MCpl. thought.

"Romeo, India One Alpha, over."
"Romeo here, go."
"Romeo, Alpha. Have penetrated forest screen three hundred meters from village's North to depth of six hundred meters, approximately. Grid reference is Golf-Juliet Niner-Three Four-Zero. Romeo, India One Alpha reports minefield, acknowledge, go."
"Alpha, Romeo acknowledges. Think you can avoid it, over?"
"Romeo, Alpha. Possibly, but it seems dense and well laid. We are currently in the minefield, to an unknown depth. No casualties, but request a demining team to clear our way out of here, don't want to risk walking back, over."
"Alpha, Romeo. Romeo acknowledges, will radio Company and get you that support. Hang tight, acknowledge, go."
"Romeo, Alpha acknowledges your last. Alpha out."

The patrol slid their bayonets out of their sheaths and gently probed the ground at a low angle to find any mines around them. For whatever reason, this area was fairly spacious and there were no landmines for quite a while, which would suggest that they weren't far into the field at all, as they could see hints of other, better-laid mines and denser packed forward of them. An area 15 meters square was deemed safe, and the men rucked down, waiting for the sappers to arrive with their mine-sweepers and clear a lane back to civilization. Perhaps the Estovakians knew something more about the minefield, but for the moment, I1A had to sit tight and such thoughts did them no good at all.

OOC: Superb writing, Estovakia.
OOC: Thanks, I try.

IC: The truck came to an abrupt halt.

Umph! Colonel Metzger was thrown from his seat. Had he not been day dreaming, he would have caught himself and wouldn't have ended up in another solder's lap. A jeep from the rear quickly drove around the stopped convoy and proceeded to the Russkyan foward base. Metzger, who always prefered riding in the back of the trucks with his men, jumped out of the back and looked out.

He saw why the convoy was stopped. Up ahead in the very distance he could make out human shapes. It was hard to see, but it was unmistakable, to see that they were itching to pull the trigger if they even got a notion of trouble. He thought the Russkyans knew that his squad and he were to be some of the Estovakians to go with the Russkyans into Karadjevo.

Apparently, they weren't warned. Colonel Metzger got on the radio.

Romeo? Russkyan foward base, this is Colonel Metzger of the Estovakian Signal and Intelligence Corps 1st Intelligence Unit, request permission to enter, over.

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"Major General Kulik can be found frequenting a small town named Doubice, about 20km east of your allies the Russkyans," The man in a Mercedes Benz with one of the tinted windows rolled down said. "He has a certain- how do you say?- affection for women? To say the least, he eats, sleeps, and breathes women quite literally. In my personal opinion, if you don't kill him some STD probably will. But my opinion is not what my clients want to hear. The next time, my info costs S300,000 Stovakistani Dollars."

Miroslav casually opened a pack of cigarettes and seemingly ignored the car, in case anybody was watching him. He did not want spies to know that he was getting information or where he got it from.

"Alright, next time." Miroslav walked away. A minute later, the car drove away going in the opposite direction.

Miroslav got back into his own car.

"So where is he, Captain?" Miroslav instantly froze. He looked at Vlad who was sitting next to him. He knew it wasn't Vlad who said that, it was somebody in the back seat.

Colonel Zeitel.

Miroslav turned around. Sure enough, it was Colonel Zeitel. "How did you get through the lines?" Miroslav asked.

"Please, Estovakian Special Forces training. Their security is as loose as the morals of a whore. Where are we going?"

Miroslav put the keys in the ignition and started the car. "Funny you should mention whores, Colonel, because we are going to a whorehouse."

The Colonel sat back silently. It was an hour-and-a-half long drive. When everybody got out, they stretched. They had entered the fringe of the town of Doubice, with surprsingly no hastle. No sentry stopped them, though they passed some, and the checkpoints, when they went through them, only took a cursory glance at them before letting them pass. They pulled the car into an alley down the street from the whorehouse. Miroslav this time got into the uniform of an Estonavian Corporal, complete with vz.58.

He walked boldly up to the entrance of the whorehouse, where a somewhat drunk and poorly dressed Sergeant was taking a swig from a bottle of beer- his third if the other empty beer bottles were his. Miroslav had intended to buy a room and wait for the general, but the general's car by sheer luck arrived at the same time that Miroslav opened the front door. Therefore, he instead waited patiently as the general, a fat, balding man who was not the slightest bit dashing, fumbled his way out of the car and up the steps.

Miroslav took a quick glance. The coast was clear, except for the Sergeant, who didn't look like he'd put up a fight in any case. When the general got into reach, Miroslav grabbed the general and threw him on top of the hood of his car. Miroslav then instantaneously unslung the vz. 58 and plunged no less then five bullets into the man's chest, his chest exploding with globlets of blood from the impact of the bullets. The sergeant got up, but Miroslav rifle butted the Sergeant in the stomach and then the face, before finishing the Sergeant off with his own bayonet to the neck after he pulled it off of the Sergeant's belt.

He ran. He bolted. He did not see the general's car peel out until it was too late. The car hit into Miroslav who was instantly thown on top the hood alongside the general he just killed. He did not know what was going on. One second he was on top of the hood, the next he had managed to roll off the hood and onto the road away from the car's trajectory. He looked up and saw a stern-faced man with the seriousness of an eighty year old monk firing round after round from his pistol into the driver's side of the general's car, the glass of the window shattering into a thousand pieces. It was Colonel Zeitel.

In slow motion, as if it were a dream, three men in Gymnastorika uniform ran out of a nearby building only to be pegged by silent bullets from a gunman he could not see. He knew it was Vlad's doing, and he was glad that Zeitel and him were there to save his life. In the brief peace that followed the skirmish, Vlad grabbed Miroslav and, being rushed by Zeitel, dragged him to their car and sped off. Zeitel leaned out of the rear passenger window with the vz. 58, killing a Gymnastorika as well as two men in suits he did not recognize.

By the time Miroslav had realized what had happened, they were fifteen minutes out of Doubice. He felt himself for broken bones or major lacerations, but found only a superficial cut to his face and a bruse on his right leg. He had killed the lead Estonavian commander on the Estovakian front and barely escaped with his life. He took one breath in, a breath of the living.

"Sir! Friendlies!"

The Lieutenant looked towards his radio operator, who was crouched in the doorway of a nearby stone house, the Platoon HQ, his set beside him.
All-right then, I'll call off the dogs.

A Gaelic shout relaxed the soldiers standing post over the entrance road, and the machinegun's muzzle immediately went skyward over the convoy, being rotated back to cover a different arc, away from the soft-skinned vehicles. On its sustained-fire mounting, the Dona Goaithe was useful to just under two kilometers. The Lieutenant waved to the convoy, and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

He turned a dial on his own radio and spoke into the headset, ordering a pair of his L-16ISCs to head back to Battalion and retrieve the demining team if they weren't already on their way. If they were, they were to pick up supplies, and return with No.3 Platoon to reinforce this position in preparation for it becoming the Company jump off point. Although those mines might stop that, that was the plan, and it hadn't yet been altered in the face of the minefield. More intelligence on that obstacle was required.

Colonel Metzger's platoon and their trucks crept into the camp. Behind them, a platoon from the Estovakian Corps of Engineers got work unloading minesweepers, mine detectors, and other equipment and began to go out into the field and search for mines. By morning, Colonel Metzger knew, a clear path should be made.

Colonel Metzger went up to a Russkyan officer and gave a crisp salute. "I wish to speak to your CO, ASAP."

Lieutenant Sean Mason returned the salute out of courtesy, then took Metzger by the arm and led him into the comandeered stone house that served as the Platoon's, and later Company's HQ.

"Sir, I am the officer commanding at this time. But can we please not salute outdoors? Snipers and all - they might just be watching, and we're looking for them, as always, but if they're there, they might decide that racking a Colonel up in their killbook is worth potentially risking their position. The Captain will be here with the rest of the Coy in thirty minutes or so, he'll be bringing up some engineers as well. Hopefully we can clear a few lanes through this obstacle and move on. Greetings, by the way. I am Leftenant Mason, Russko-Celtic Corps, Black Glengarries Regiment. Who might you be?"

[OOC, trivial note: Russkyans use the Commonwealth form of Lieutenant, ergo it is pronouncd "Leftenant," rather than "Lootenant." That is, unless you're in the Russko-German Corps or the Regulars, in which case, Leutnant and "Lootnant", respectively.]

--

2LT Mason had been recently notified of the troop shift. A Company of the Black Glengarries was rolling up, both No.3 and No.1 Platoons in their L-16s, bringing with them a section of Engineers and a pair of L-16CRVs with their VDV recce crews as well. They were still fifteen minutes out, and making good speed. Their battlenet and navigational systems were most useful in navigating the terrain and maintaining unit cohesion.

OOC: Actually I've not only heard someone pronounce Lieutenant like "Leftenant", but I also have seen it spelled out that way, too.

IC: " I am Colonel Metzger of the Estovakian Signal and Intelligence Corps You are right. Perhaps we should move inside."

The rest of his platoon gathered supplies out of the truck and headed for a designated area a little ways distance from the Russkyans.

The machinegunner known as "Sloane" sat on a half-full sandbag, his back resting against the wall of the machinegun trench, reviewing the range card and operating manual for the Dona Goaithe sitting on its sustained fire mounting, facing the direction of the minefield. Camouflage netting concealed the position, and provided a bit of shade. His partner rigged a tarp over the section of the trench that housed spare ammunition and whichever man of the two-man gun team would be sleeping.

"We're tied in with Three Section's gun on the Left and Two Section's gun on the right, aye?"
"Aye."

His loader / assistant gunner lifted himself out of the trench and walked around to the front of the position, about fifty meters distant to check the camouflage.

"Hey Sloane! The bit of net over your head, tack it down into the sandbag and then raise the pole an extra two inches!"

The gunner did so and tucked the range card back near the GPMG, sticking his head up over the weapon's sight to give his A-Gunner an affirmative wave.

"Looks good, we're set!"

As per Russkyan doctrine, the Section GPMGs were mounted to their sustained fire kits and the positions dug. Fighting holes and slit-trenches were dug by the Russkyan troops, even if they would occupy houses during the night in shifts as billets. Sloane's gun faced the minefield and the "enemy," and was sited in defilade to provide enfilading fire. No.2 Section's gun was on the left of Sloane's, two hundred meters away, and near the concrete foundation of a two-story house. A fighting position for two riflemen and an RPG-7V covered the gun, and No.3 Section's gun was furthest away and covered only by riflemen rather than another GPMG, as it was tasked to watch back along the entrance road.

When the rest of the Coy came up, the positions could be added to and more weapons sited. This village could easily hold an entire Rifle Company.

--

"Colonel Metzger, pleased to make your acquaintance. If you'll have a seat, we can brew up some tea or some coffee quickly, and the Coy should be here soon, including the Captain."

About two hundred and fifty meters away, the Company was already approaching in a double-column of L-16s, march security being provided by a section from each platoon and the two Recce vehicles. When they arrived, Coy HQ would be set up in the same building Metzger was currently occupying with the PltHQ.

It was as black as ink in Gromadin Forest. But it did not mean their wasn't activity. Estovakians hurried up SP artillery through small breaks in tree lines and hastily cut paths through the dense forestry. Estovakian jets flying overhead bombed enemy fortifications.

There was bad news. The Estovanians had broken through the Estonavian lines, splitting their army in two. The eastern half of the army was in a fighting retreat, which was fast becoming a rout. Already Estovanian scouts had made it into the Karadjevo suburbs, and there were unconfirmed reports of attacks into the city itself.

To counter this threat, Estovanian Black Guard infantry equiped with NV googles made night assaults on various outlying areas to help facilitate the Estovakian/Russkyan assault which was coming only about 26-27 hours away. The less resistence in the way, the better. Far in the distance of the Russkyan/Estovakian camp there was slight rumblings, almost like thunder.

In Stavidad, General Tate sat in a military headquarters. An Air Force Oberst* who was a liason between the army and the air force received orders from Air Command to be presented to General Tate.

It wasn't news General Tate could necessarily do anything about, just a notice of what the Air Command was going to do.

The Oberst walked into General Tate's office holding a small stack of white papers. General Tate put on his reading glasses and quickly read through the three or four pages. On the last page, he put his signature and gave back the stack to the Oberst who scuttled out of Tate's office and down the hall to his cubicle.

The papers, insignificant in nature, was the Air force's warning to all that the Air Force will begin unrestricted bombing at 5:30AM Stovakgrad Central Time, meaning that if necessary, the Air Force has a right to bomb areas with concentrations of Estonavians regardless of colaterial damage. If the coalition was to make it to Karadjevo in time, the Air Force felt it was necessary to put the orders into effect.

* OOC: Oberst is the equivilent of Colonel FYI. The Estovakian Armed services are changing the names of the rating and ranking systems, starting with the navy and air force. Due to the confusion the change would do to the army, it has been decided that the ranking and rating systems won't be changed for the Black Guard or Army until after the conflict is over.

OOC: Okay, sounds good, sounds good. I'm familiar with the German ranks, at least the Bundeswehr ones, a modified version of which help distinguish my ethnically-German "Deutsche Korps" from the rest of my military. You may want to check your wording on your posts there, I didn't realize that the Estovanians had the Black Guards as well. No worries, I think I understand.
Oh joy. Now for a post I'm not too happy with.


--

The minefield to the front of the village had nearly been breached. The Engineering Demibattalion of the Russkyan Battlegroup had been deployed completely now, and elements of it were clearing additional lanes through the minefield and widening existing lanes. It was a well laid field. The village was home to a Rifle Company of the Black Glengarry Bn, and the Russkyans were preparing to use it as a jumping-off point towards their objectives.

Other engineers, utilizing L-31OCVs and other specialized equipment, assisted the Estovakians in clearing and creating new roads and pathways through the Estonavian Gromadin Forest.

The LRRPs to the South of Karadjevo confirmed reports of what the Estovakians and Russkyans already knew - that the Eastern section of the Estonavian army was fleeing Southwards at a rapid rate. The deluge of forces had nearly swept away the LRRPs, until one night where they'd been able to exfiltrate to the West side of this retreat. The powerful optronics/sensor mast on their Fennek vehicles peered into Karadjevo's suburbs now, behind Gromadin. It was a risky position - already, target information had been relayed to Estovakian batteries as to nearby Estonavian supply dumps, supporting the Gromadin Line and other facilities.

The Estonavian government forces seemed well equipped and organized. Unfortunately they'd been broken North of Karadjevo, rather than to its West. Some of the Russkyan soldiers in the Battlegroup were unsure of their ability to reach Karadjevo fast enough, but were optomistic enough. The distances were short enough, the front well established, supplies and support not far away if they did manage a breakthrough. They could take and hold their objectives - whether or not they'd be able to keep them was a different matter.

There was some worry about the Estovanians. Would they attack Russkyan forces? No man was sure, but information on their military was distributed in the OPFOR Intel sheets, just incase.

OOC: Actually you may be greatly confused by the ranks and rates of the Estovakian Air Force. Oberst and Oberstleutnant, for example, will be added for Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel respectively, but whereas there is a 2nd Lieutenant and a 1st Lieutenant or a Flying Officer and a Flight Lieutenant (USAF and RAF respectively) for the OF-1 and OF-2 positions respectively, in the Estovakian Air Force, the OF-1 is a Flight Officer/Lieutenant (Flight Officer if the officer flies, Lieutenant if the officer is of the Air Cavalry or is a ground officer) and the OF-2 position is a Kapitänleutnant.

Kapitänleutnant as you may know is a German naval rank and as far as I know is not used elsewhere except the navy. The reason it is an Air Force rank in my country is that it is a revival of the ranks used by Airship pilots in my country during the years equivilent to World War I in RL. As the Airships were part of the Naval Aviation Corps, the predecessor to the air force, and used naval ranks and rates, the revived rank is a nod to the days before the air force was created in the country.

My point, or at least the one I tried to make using two paragraphs when I could have done it in one sentence, is that the Estovakian Ranking system is a hodge-podge of ranks and rates from armies and navies from around the world from various points in time and thus it isn't guaranteed that one will or fully grasp the ranks significance (or insignificance). You can make an educated guess however; obviously, I won't choose "private" to be a general's rank for instance.

And on a separate note, yes you were right, I meant "Estovakian" instead of "Estovanian". I knew I'd get confused one time or another.

---I have to cut my posting short. Got to go right now. Will post later---

OOC: Suddenly I don't feel so bad about not mirror-imaging the rank-structure from the Wehrmacht into the Deutsche Korps. If you ever get around to writing up some kind of publicly available explanation of Estovakia, to include its military and rank structure, it sounds like it would be an interesting read for sure.

OOC: Well I have remade all of my ranks and rates, as well as a history, so I could always make some kind of publicly available explanation of Estovakia, with its military and rank structure if you want me to.

IC:

Major Telner, the acting Intelligence Broadcast Officer, 1st Division in Metzger's absense, sat at his desk sending out plans and info to both the frontline Estovakians and Russkyan troops.



From: Major Telner
To: Lieutenant General Weiss and our allies

War Plan Island

The Estovakian High Command has reiterated its plan for the subsequent liberation and occupation of Karadjevo.

War Plan Island (http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/offensive.bmp)

[NOTE: BRIGHT PURPLE represents ALLIED forces. BROWN areas represent ESTONAVIAN Line of DEFENSE. BLACK areas are destroyed/weakened areas of the ESTONAVIAN Line of DEFENSE.]

It has been decided that to avoid unnecessary war, GROMADIN will be SURROUNDED and BYPASSED. Without adequete supplies and faltering morale, surrender should be expected to be swift. Sources, indicate that most units' morale rates are faltering, some on verge of mutiny. Some Battalions report as much as 60% DESERTION RATE on the WESTERN "FRONT".

[Note: on the EASTERN "FRONT", DESERTION RATE is as high as 90% in several units.]

Therefore, the PRIMARY OBJECTIVE will be to reach the SUBURBAN AREAS of KARADJEVO. Estovakian units south of this small theater of conflict known as the "WESTERN FRONT" as it is west of KARADJEVO, will race toward CISTOWES and try to head north through the undisturbed bridges. RUSSKYAN FORCES and ESTOVAKIAN RECON UNITS, designated under Estovakian High Command as GROUP ALPHA, will vanguard the assault into the CITY OF KARADJEVO with resistence expected to be MINIMAL.

ESTONAVIAN EVACUATION (http://www.freewebs.com/novgovamaps/Evac.bmp)

[NOTE: DARK RED or BURGUNDY ARROWS represent ESTOVAKIAN EVACUATION ROUTES]

ESTONAVIAN EVACUATION is to the SOUTH and SOUTHEAST. The map above illustrates that the two main bridges in KARADJEVO are DESTROYED. However a 17th Century Bridge capable of supporting LIGHT VEHICLES and INFANTRY will be accessable to our forces and is not being used for evacuation.

Although curiously worded in comparison to standard Russkyan format, Iltchenko understood the recently recieved Estovakian missive and arranged his units accordingly. The jumping off point had been built up and was now brimming with a reinforced battalion of men, all from the Russko-Celtic Corps, freshly rested and combat ready. All units reported green across the board, except for the Engineering Demibattalion which had taken some casualties, with one L-31OCV knocked out and a recovery vehicle damaged.
Their Bridgelayer Platoon was now ready to move forward and prepare crossings where needed as well, sufficient materials had been gathered and refresher training conducted to ensure that one bridge could be laid with their armoured bridge layers, and another bridge that could handle LAV traffic could be constructed as well, although the latter bridge would be wooden and require a day and a half for construction. Materials and additional combat engineers were being rushed in with medium logistics vehicles and the materials for a pontoon bridge.

Given that the village chosen was already South of Gromadin Forest, the jump-off and advance should be rather rapid and easy. The Russkyans would rely on the Estovakians to wrap up the Gromadin Forest area, and they would drive at best possible speed towards Karadjevo's suburbs, the leading Companies linked arm in arm with Estovakians under the percieved-capable command of Colonel Metzger, a man reported to be worthy of all respect.

The artillery battery had been moved up with two Rifle Platoons to a firebase just behind the jumping off village, and would be able to provide some measure of organic indirect fire support, although it would need to bound forward to be able to maintain this ability.

Every Officer, NCO, and Soldier had been briefed. Weapons and ammunition were checked, re-checked, as were their vehicles. Every man ate well of the pre-battle ration of dark chocolate and a half-glass of vodka each, as H-Hour was at first light.

OOC: Consider this a glorified bump, and Estovakia, are those Mi-24s effectively under my control, or do I still need to check with you before I use them and their flightcrews?

OOC: Consider this a glorified bump, and Estovakia, are those Mi-24s effectively under my control, or do I still need to check with you before I use them and their flightcrews?

OOC: Mi-24s are under your control. Will post later

Estovakian Air Force jets lazily glided in the nighttime sky as if they were on a patrol pattern. In all actuality, they were screening the skies and the ground for any type of large Estonavian force.

The reason why was because of another Estovakian plane in the sky. It was a four-engined plane and was moving rather slow and fairly low to the ground. Inside 23 paratroopers were being prepared to be paradropped.

Lieutenant Diaz carfeul watched the altimeter located within the belly of the plane. As soon as it was the right height, and the speed on the speedometer was around the speed desired it would be okay to jump. They were going to jump behind the lines into vacated farmland. No major or minor Estonavian forces were located nearby, which was good for the paratroopers.

Their mission was to reform on the ground and take the village of Stolypin where a local highway junction was located. If captured, it would allow access of the highway for the allied forces to use, while denying forces in the city of Gromadin an evacuation route.

5... 4... 3... 2.. 1.. *Blink*

The light panel in the rear of the plane flashed from red to yellow. The rear of the plane opened up, revealing a cold nighttime sky. The light then turned a solid green, meaning it was okay to jump.

One by one the paratroopers filed out of the plane before tugging their cords on their parachutes. Each one of them landed safely in a giant patch of farmland. Each one of the parachutists got out of their parachutes quickly and unfolded the stocks of their G36 assault rifles and readied whatever weapons they had. They quickly reunited, which was fortunate since their landing had somehow attracted a small patrol, which included a pickup truck with an MG. The group quickly hid amongst the saplings and small stalks of corn growing, or amongst the newly sown fields.They waited carefully until the pickup truck was almost on top of them, whereupon they quickly dispatched the driver and the machinegunner, and the three soldiers following it.

The paragroup, consisting of three squads of seven men each, a Master Sergeant, and Lieutenant Diaz himself, hiked the 4 kilometers to the town quickly. It was a small village, capable of being adequately defended by the paragroup and sure enough there was about as many men in the town as their were in the paragroup itself. Most of the soldiers were asleep in the houses, while only a few sentries stood guard at the entrances and exits to the town.

Lieutenant Diaz quickly drew up a strike plan. He split his group in two, with the Master Sergeant, a squad, and himself making a feign on the town's Northeast, while the two squads would make an assault soon after from the West-Northwest.

Stealthily getting into position, the two groups took their time getting to their positions without being detected. Then, Diaz and his men opened fire. They struck two sentries and killed them instantly. As quick as lightning they rushed into the town and across from a very small flat being used as an inpromptu barracks. Lieutenant Diaz shot out a window on the top floor, then loaded a fragmentation grenade into the 40mm grenade launcher under his G36 and launched it at the top floor through the broken window. The grenade exploded and a loud explosion echoed through the whole village. Estonavian soldiers began to pour out of the bottom floor and were summararily shot.

MSgt. Bordovskih ran up to the front entrance and flung open the door. He threw in a fragmentation hand grenade inside which also exploded with a loud bang. In the chaos that followed, the rest of the squad went around the back of the flat and through a back door, shooting anyone who was still alive.

The other two squads had attacked similar makeshift barracks, but were almost ambushed by the local police force, which poured out of the supposedly abandoned municipal building (all the civilians were supposedly evacuated). They quickly destroyed the police; however, they had lost the element of surpise and were bogged down fighting soldiers outside one of the makeshift barracks. Grenades were launched or thrown yet the stubborn Estonavians refused to give up. Several fought on inside the partially collapsed and smoldering building before the Lieutenant's squad, having since reunited with the other two, went through a back door and surprised the defenderes, which were therefore killed.

The paratroopers had accomplished their goal. They had taken over the town with surprsingly no seriously or critically wounded or dead (a few soldiers had received cuts, bruises, gashes, and one a graze wound but nothing too serious).

It was after the fighting and the collection of enemy weapons that they discovered the truth. Many of the fighters were only around twelve to fourteen years of age. Even more disturbing were the remains or body parts of several females in civilian garb possibly indicating that somewhere in the fighting some civilians had been around and subsequently died during the fighting. It was to be expected or anticipated for- after all, civilians die in every conflict because they're in the wrong place at the wrong time- but it was still disheartening and at the very least, the extra paperwork involved when such things happen made it regretable.

--Estovakian News Incorporated--

President-for-Life Maxwell: Military Use of Saint Andrew's Cathedral 'Regrettable' and 'Disgusting'

Stovakgrad, Estovakia - President-for-Life Maxwell has dennounced Estonavia's use of St. Andrew's Cathedral, a Stovakian Orthodox Cathedral, as a munitions depot and shelter for Estonavian soldiers to escape the crushing Estovakian airpower and allied artillery.

Estonavian Interior Minister Nedic has downplayed the accusations saying that Estovakia is spreading "lies and false accusations" and is "tarnishing the honor of the good and honorable Estonavians". Nedic further goes on to say that there is no "occupation of a church of God" anywhere in the country.

President-for-Life Maxwell has called the Estonavian military "cowardly" and has called the military use of the 15th century cathedral "Regrettable" and "Disgusting" and "implores for the sake of history that the cathedral be abandoned.

The Estonavians have occupied the cathedral, which is located on an almost vertical hill strategically ovelooking National Highway 10 since last week, when the allied buildup threatened to be able to push straight to Karadjevo. From the top of the hill, artillery can fire straight onto the roadway or anywhere else in about a 32km (20 miles) radius, as it is the highest point around for at least 48km (30 miles).

The Estovakian Air Force and Artillery have not been able to use the necessary force necessary to dislodge or destroy the artillery emplacements and infantry dugouts because of the proximity of the cathedral to the emplacements and any attack of that nature would most likely damage or destroy one of the oldest historical landmarks on the whole peninsula.

An irrepressibly cheery Desantniik crouched in full battle gear in the open right doorway of one of the Estovakian Mi-24D* "HIND" helicopter gunships. His blue beret showed the signs of many years of use, and his well-fitting boots had been on the dirt of many nations, most inside the SFR, but today, that of the Stovakian Penninsula. The flightcrews were more than capable with their machines, and Major Iltchenko had ordered that the Mi-24s support the advance. On the ground, Black Glengarries rolled forward in their L-16ISCs, primarily unopposed.

A few houses blazed defiance, these were hit with automatic cannon and machinegun fire, sometimes a missile fitted with a thermobaric warhead. The 30mm gunpods fitted to the Mi-24's stub wings chuckled the devil's laugh as a now-wrecked house below smoldered and then caught fire.

From the air, the Russkyan-Estovakian advance on the Southern portion, a swift knife-strike, looked textbook perfect despite the terrain. Three companies led the advance, all mounted in L-16s, followed by the Engineers. Behind them, the Artillery kept pace, not having to unlimber from their prime movers for some time now. The advance had already covered fifty kilometers, taken no dead, suffered only the lightest wounds, and was still rolling forward strong.

Opposition was minimal. The Blue Beret in the door of the HIND laughed again, truely delighted to be back in the belly of the steel beast, when thuds were heard in rapid succession, a window cracked, and the man in the door fell back unceremoniously, dazed heavily.
He blinked blood from his eyes, reaching instinctively for his AKS-74M as he lay on the deck of the troop-bay, reaching up with his left hand to find and check the wound. A section-mate knelt by him, holding his own field dressing in one hand, shouting to him over the sound of the chin-mounted rotary-barrel heavy machinegun firing, the engine, and the rotor blades.

"They lit us up with a machinegun! You got gashed by some bullet fragments, you're still good! Hold still, you're bleeding like a slaughtered pig!"

The VDV man gripped his comrade's arm just above the elbow, pulling him down closer. He screamed past his mate's ear:

"My eyes are fine, right?"
"Yeah! Let go, this isn't easy to begin with!"

The dressing was quickly tied around his forehead and he went to sit in the back of the troop-bay, resting his back on the seat, feeling his rifle. He shook his head clear of the cobwebs, let his hand wander over his weapon, his hand easing the bolt open partway, his fingers feeling the cool brass of the chambered cartridge. His other hand held the dressing to his forehead while a man behind him re-tied it tighter. He only nodded when the question was asked;

"You're still good?"

The HIND slowed, the ground rushed up, the other door opened, and the screaming Desantnikii leapt from these two assault helicopters into the fray developing on the ground over a village situated on a small knoll overlooking some farmer's fields, just off to the right of the Russkyan advance's axis.

--

"Two Coy reports contact on Juliet Foxtrot Three Seven, Major."

Although the computerized screen was available, unit marker positions automatically updating and reports immediately available through tapping on that unit's marker, Iltchenko still preferred to stand over his map-table.
A village was shown on the map, recently provided by the military's Cartographic Service, and the two men moving the markers showed it being bypassed to one side by the leading elements with a rifle company splitting to engage. Iltchenko turned and raised the volume on the speaker himself, ordering the Comms NCO to tune into 2Coy's freq.

"First platoon on the left, two on the right. Leave a hole in the center, wait five for the barrage to lift, and three platoon in reserve. Attack dismounted, Vixens in overwatch. Four platoon stay mounted, circle in behind them and form a line of encirclement around to the back. Standard drills, boys, acknoweldge, go."
"One Platoon acknowledges, Captain. We're moving up, over."
"Two Platoon acknowledges, Capt, over."
"Three acknowledges, Captain. Over."
"Fourth Platoon is rolling, sir, over."

A soldier moved the marker on the map denoting the two Mi-24s assigned to work with 2Coy nearer the village, dropping the two Section chips for the VDV men onboard just to the North of the village.

What couldn't be seen on the board were the engineers were filing by outside of weapons range, under a quickly laid smokescreen. The artillery would follow, similarily concealed, and another smokescreen would envelop the North side, behind the VDV. These men linked up with 4Plt and found concealed positions behind whatever little cover was available. A rolling fusilade of AKS-74M and MBRS fire cut down those fleeing the village as 1 and 2 Platoons stormed the objective.

The momentum of the assault maintained, trailing troops were detatched to search and secure the village. Not heavily damaged, it might have use as billets yet, and the advance continued. The sun blazed high in the sky, the ground dry, and L-16s were able to easily roll along the fields alongside the road that was straddled by the primary axis of the advance.

The Estovakian soldiers with Colonel Metzger had earned the respect of the Black Glengarries, not easily given, in several skirmishes earlier.

OOC: I assume two things. Firstly, that the Mi-24s happen to be Mi-24Ds, rather than the modified Mi-24Ps that I use personally. Secondly, that Metzger is indeed rolling with the leading companies of the offensive on the Southern side of Gromadin Forest.

OOC: I don't know if you received my TG or not. For some reason, my computer logged me out when I pressed 'Send' for the TG.

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

"Sorry to hear about it, Colonel."

Metzger did not look. He just stared aimlessly as the Puma flew over the terrain. He had received a call before H-Hour from the Black Guard saying the his wife and his whole family were missing. One minute his wife was preparing the kids to bring to her parent's house, the next minute they were missing. Almost everything was still in its place in the house apparently.

They had simply vanished.

Major Hohlev spoke again, this time quietly so only the Colonel could hear. "I know you think that the Black Guard is involved. Maybe we could get back at them somehow, maybe find some way to screw them over."

The Colonel shifted his body but still didn't speak. In a matter of fact, Major Hohlev had taken over most of his officer responsibilities. Usually, if an officer experienced severe emotional problems or experienced serious personal events, they would be releived of command. However, the call came so soon that it was practically H-Hour when the brief call ended and there was no choice but to continue the operation.

"Hang on!"

The pilot of the helicopter had yelled prior to jerking the helicopter to the right. An attack helicopter, dangeroulsy close to Metzger's helicopter passed by the left and attacked a small group of T-55s. It fired two missles, striking at least two of the tanks which both let out to brief puffs of black smoke. On the second pass the helicopter blew up the third tank, though by that time the crew had long since abndoned it.

It was a great sight and it fortunately roused Metzger from his quiet, almost scary trance. He would be landing as his men in the other helicopters further secured their LZ which was only a few kilometers north of the Russkyans.

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

"Son of a bitch!!!" A private yelled as a mortar shell exploded right in front of him, the concussion throwing his body back. Lieutenant Diaz rushed over the private who was bleeding from practically every orifice of his body. Fortunately, there were no major outer wounds, though that didn't men there weren't any internal injuries.

A corporal trained in first aid (they were all trained in first aid, it's just that he was the one assigned to carry most of the medical supplies) tended to the man as Lieutenant Diaz ran to his radioman.

His radioman was writing info in his issued PDA, while talking into the SatCom.

"Where is our fucking reinforcements?" "What?" "Get them over here!"

It appeared that a platoon of men from Gromadin, which must have noted the lack of communication, decided to send some people to investigate. Those people, a platoon, had evidently ran into his men. It wasn't anything he wasn't trained for, and it wasn't something he couldn't handle, though his radioman was visibly pissed that the reinforcements were delayed by partisan activity and increasing AA activity due to shoulder-launched missles in the vacinity.

Most of his men already hid in ditches, in corners of buildings, and flat on the ground when the first mortar shell hit, though the private was caught out in the open. Lieutenant Diaz as an act of courage decided to stay out in the open during the fire. The mortar shells hit randomly and as the shells began to fall away from the men, the paratroopers decided to man their positions.

Soon afterwards, Estonavian troops moved up. They stayed close to the ground hugging the tall grass and mud and moving pretty slowly. Estovakian machine gun fire managed to kill a few and stall the attack, particularly in the open areas. RPG fire from requisitioned RPG-7vs from the fallen Estonavian bodies in the last night's attack on the village were fired to create disorder amongst the platoon's formation. Several managed to hit soldiers whom instantly splattered into red mats in the grass evident from above.

Some RPGs were kept in reserve and the machine gunners began to pick targets insead of using supression fire. The riflemen fired more and more shots as they became aware of their targets. It was going to be a long gun battle.

A perfect shooting day. The wind in this area - and the six hundred meters ahead of the man - was practically still. It was a warm day, yet soft light as the sun filtered through a drifting cloud.

Two ghillie-clad men formed a strange shape just a little bit back from the lip of a defile. The first "bush" lay prone on his stomach, watching the North. A third man scanned three hundred and sixty degrees around them constantly, also ghillie-clad, but carrying an MBRS with a T-03 underbarrel grenade launcher. The spotter lay still, and the sniper's rifle was rested across his shoulder blades. He looked through his optic at the magnified head, his spotter heard and recognized the slow half-exhale, and held his own breath, and the stillness of the black crosshairs was beautiful to the sniper. He grinned his half-grin and felt the trigger smoothly release under his shoulder.

The stock punched back into his shoulder, the round went free of the muzzle, spinning rapidly and flying faster forward, impacting in the upper chest, lower throat region of the Estonavian soldier toting the MANPAD launcher. Some people thought that snipers were murderers, killing without courage from a distance. They thought that snipers preferred to wound, as it tied up more resources. In the sniper's mind, those people were fools. Perhaps killing from a distance did not require the same kind of courage - but a slow, daytime infiltration through the remains of the enemy's line, with three men and light weapons only, far enough ahead of your own forces that the only guys you could possibly expect to be close enough to rescue you came in by air or were lightly armed and armoured recce soldiers. And any man shot by this sniper, was dead before his corpse touched ground.

The bullet travelled through his skin, slicing through muscle and starting to yaw, but not before it cut through the spine. The launcher tumbled from his shoulder as its owner dropped to the ground, and his comrades, frightened now, sought out cover. One's head exploded - at six hundred meters, this was no small feat. Then the sniper knew it was time to move. Everyone together, cartridges policed, the camouflaged men crawled along a line of low bushes to a piece of woodlands nearby.

--

Fierce urban combat was when the fewest prisoners were taken, but five Estonavians sat behind the L-16CP that served as the Company HQ. A wounded Black Glengarry traded a can of cold coke for a cigar. An Estonavian soldier was relieved of his belt for another can. The cooler in the back of the L-16AMT was useful for intelligence purposes sometimes, often locals could be coerced with fairly common things that weren't considered delicacies until they couldn't be found anymore. A cold can of coke on a over-warm day was always welcome, the soldiers found.

The troops would be processed and sent back under guard to the Russkyan encampment. So far, around fifty prisoners had been taken. They were interrogated, some going so far as to volunteer information that was later confirmed by reconnaissance specialists. According to what the Estovakian high command wished to do, these prisoners may be handed over to them or remain in Russkyan custody.

A wounded NCO, with multiple holes in his legs, sat in the back of the L-16AMT singing in a surprisingly fine tenor voice;


I went to see me neighbours,
to see what they might say.
The old ones they were dead and gone,
the young ones turning grey.
I met the tailor Quigley, he's bold as ever still,
sure he used to make me britches,
when I lived at Spancil Hill.

I paid a flying visit to me first and only love,
She's as fair as any Lily and gentle as a dove.
She threw her arms around me,
crying; "Johnny I love you still."
She was a farmer's daughter,
the pride of Spancil Hill.


The advance continued. It was slowed by enemy activity, including some armour, which had annhilated a L-16CRV and two ISCs full of troops from ambush, but morale was high, supplies were good, and casualties surprisingly light, all things considered.
More soldiers would arrive in theatre shortly. They would belong to the VDV, possibly another unit of the Black Glengarry Regiment would arrive.
A pair of Mi-24Ds chattered by overhead. Those Estovakians were doing quite well.

The Captain in the back of the L-16CP looked at his TADS again, noticing the Estovakian troops dropped ahead of the advance. Time to saddle up, move past this moderately-damaged town, and continue the advance. He wasn't the lead company, but he was assigned to lend weight to them. Soon a call came through on the radio, they were needed to add some depth to an attack on a hill overlooking a road the unit train would need to travel over to keep them supplied.

In the distance, the wounded man and the prisoners could already see the effect of the rocket fire from the HINDs and the 155mm artillery fire from the battlegroup's organic artillery on the hilltop - a low-hanging cloud of dust, punctured with flashes, and every man there knew the Hell of flying, hot splinters that coated the surface.

Well I dreamt I hugged and kissed her,
as in the days of yore.
She said; "Johnny you're only joking,"
as many the times before,
The cock cried out in the morning,
he crowed both loud and shrill.
And I awoke in Krasnograd,
many miles from Spancil Hill.

OOC: Lyrics borrowed and slightly modified from Cruachan's "Spancil Hill."

Lieutenant Diaz lined up his sights on a careless Estonavian. He fired a burst from his G36 and the soldier stopped moving. His men had been taking potshots on the platoon for well over an hour. He had guessed that the great majority of the platoon was dead as there were a noticeable amount of enemy dead scattered around the village. There was still gunfire however, and tall grass and growing stalks of corn desguised their movements.

Soon it occured to everyone that there was much more than a platoon. They were attacked initially by a platoon- they knew that much- but it still seemed like there was a steady amount of gunfire as if they were magically being reinforced.

Then they heard it. A distant rumbling like a small earthquake. The paratroopers knew what it was. Tanks.

"I need AT launchers to cover 12 o'clock! I want one to go to my left and one to my right. Spread out a ways so as to not be no top of each other."

The Lieutenant then turned around to his Master Sergeant. "Most men here know how to fire RPGs. Get a man or two to move the RPGs to more accessable areas should anything bad happen. Now move soldier." The Master Sergeant ran to get a private and ran off to the RPG cache.

Lieutenant Diaz then went to a specialized Corporal, who was a trained sapper. "Remember the anti-tank mines we parachuted with? We'e gonna use them now." Wordlessly, the Corporal nodded and got out of the prone position and ran with the Lieutenant (with their heads low) to a munitions crate which they opened. Inside were four mines. They grabbed two each in their hands which they made possible by slinging their rifles over their shoulders. They ran from cover to cover until they rejoined the majority of the fighting men.

By now the rumbling tanks had made it over the horizon and were clearly visiible. It looked like a line of tanks- about four of them- T-55s rather slowly making their way across corn fields, bending corn stalks and leaving tracks in the dirt. They briefly stopped moving as soon as soon as Lieutenant Diaz rejoined his men.

His men and him knew what that meant. They shielded themselves as a tank shell ripped through the second floor of the building next to them sending glass shards and wood splinters to sprinkle onto the pavement below. Another tank shell had simultaneously hit another building down the street, leaving a gaping hole where it had hit. Two other shells landed short, one hitting a gentle rise in terrain and another landing just short of the first shell fired.

One of the AT men, who was hesitant to fire from the range and from the front, fired his AT4 anyway which luckily hit between the turret and the body of the tank. An explosion ripped through the hole, bending the turret outward. Sporadic popping meant that tank rounds were being cooked off inside. Increased infantry fire meant that the AT men had to stay down, but fortunately the tanks wouldn't remain there long. The radioman relayed that gunships were expected to come.

For his safety, he hoped they would come soon.

"Contact Front!"

With this shout, in the four-foot tall grasses around the base of the hill, the man on point on the lead section leading their platoon towards the Forming Up Point, dropped to his knee and ripped off a burst from his MBRS rifle. Behind him, a grenadier popped a 40mm grenade into the area indicated, and the sharp cracking explosion seemed to be a little too far behind, as evidenced by the burst that tore through the air to the pointman and grenadier's right. A sharp shout of pain and a screamed insult indicated one of their men had been hit, and the pair threw themselves down and to the left.

Already the section was expanding into a "wedge," from their double-column. This expansion was accomplished by screaming their war-screams and charging outwards, lest they be caught in an ambush, and overrunning what might be an ambusher's position. Nothing was found, but the caution was justifiable. Dropping low in the high grasses, one man moved towards the wounded man who continued to shout obscenities as he dragged himself backwards into a small depression.

The Estonavian machinegun had been located because the assistant gunner / loader moved, and the pointman had noticed the movement in the high grass. With the section prone and spread out, they brought more of their weapons to bear, including the underbarrel grenade launchers. The Black Glengarries fired, reloaded, fired again, and inched their way forwards, wondering where the fuck the enemy Infantry were - if they'd hung a machinegun out here with no Infantry to back it up, they were dumber than anyone had thought.

An additional section had moved up from Platoon. These men took the left flank and advanced warily through the grass until they could hear the chattering of the Estonavian machinegun clearly to their right. There were other sounds of battle, but those were far off. The artillery preparation had ceased on the hilltop. Another grenade exploded on the gun, then the first section intensified their fire after a brief radio call, for thirty seconds, then dropped low and reloaded while the second section stormed the position. A wounded Estonavian held his hands out infront of him and was taken prisoner, and a nearby Estonavian with an FN-FAL shot one Black Glengarry in the chest and head, his weapon set to rock and roll with the well-known "matchstick field modification." That man slumped dead to the ground, and the Estonavian was promptly killed in a volley of 9.3x39mm. The two sections swept the area.

This brief engagement had cost three casualties - one lightly wounded, one more severely wounded but in stable condition, with some muscle damage to right calf, left thigh, and some bruises, and one dead. Two were evacuated to the rear and the lightly wounded man was bandaged.

The hilltop beckoned. It was proving to be quite the obstacle - already it had stymied the Russkyan advance for five hours. Soon a reinforced company-strength offensive, supported by L-16s and artillery, would be launched to take the hilltop from two directions, driving the enemy Westwards and to the North.

The hilltop beckoned. It was proving to be quite the obstacle - already it had stymied the Russkyan advance for five hours. Soon a reinforced company-strength offensive, supported by L-16s and artillery, would be launched to take the hilltop from two directions, driving the enemy Westwards and to the North.

OOC: Is this the hill with the cathedral or is it a generic hill? If it is the hill with the cathdral, it is about to be bombed to dust. If it isn't, you can always call in an airstrike to help as the air force would be more than glad to.

OOC: Not the Cathedral. If you'd like, I can deploy a Battalion to attempt to take that objective. These L-16ISCs (Think Badass LAV-IIIs) give me wonderful mobility. Generic dusty hilltop. Has it been a dry summer, so far? I'd like to try one of my old-school Russian-inherited tactics, but it needs to be a dry summer for that to work.

OOC: Not the Cathedral. If you'd like, I can deploy a Battalion to attempt to take that objective. These L-16ISCs (Think Badass LAV-IIIs) give me wonderful mobility. Generic dusty hilltop. Has it been a dry summer, so far? I'd like to try one of my old-school Russian-inherited tactics, but it needs to be a dry summer for that to work.

OOC: How dry are we talking about? The days are hot and sunny with highs from about 30 degrees to 33 degrees. Afternoon thunderstorms have come about every other day and last for about 30 minutes before tapering off.

If what you're planning has something to do with scrub or brush burning to smoke them out, create a smoke screen, or burn them alive, then I can tell you that because of the sun a lot of the brush is dry and burnt.

And no, you don't have to take the cathedral. Somewhere during the fighting it has already been bombed. I just wanted to make sure therefore that you weren't fighting for that hill because they are already dead.

If you need air support though, I could always drop 500lb bombs or 250lb bombs or cluster bombs or anything you want. Just ask.

IC: "Don't move! Don't fucking move!"

Sergeant Alvarado's G36 bore directly down upon an Estonavian's head. There were two other Estonavians against a wall with the Estonavian who had his hands up and were being disarmed by other Estovakian Scouts.

The Estovakian scouts had cleared out a farm property. Inside there was a host of documents, paper currency, and items that needed to be officially documented.

It was quiet and the Scouts were going to take a break before proceeding onwards. By nightfall, their objective was to reach Gregorovce, a county seat and local capital of the province, which was undefended.

Items Recovered

Weapons:

20 FN-FALs
30 Vz. 58s
2 RPG-7vs
4 PKMs
10 RPK-74s

Paper Currency:

Es 1.500 ($936 USD)
Estonavian Rubles 50.000 ($7.042,25 USD)

Status: Money will be distributed into the treasury to help allieviate costs. weapons to be sold off later, or put into storage.

Estonavians Casualties
8 Dead
4 Wounded (Captured)

Status: Wounded to be taken to Fort Stovakgrada, then taken to Fort Strelnikov Detention Center. Will be granted rights under the Geneva Convention. (Estovakia was a signatory in 1961).

Civilian Casualties

1 Male (Captured)
4 Females (Captured)

Status: Under The Estonavian Labor Act of 1753, the civilians were being used for forced laborers and were legally bought (legal in Estonavia) by the Estonavian government from human trafficers. Under the Estovakian Crisis Act of 1951, the Estovakian government is allowed to use whatever captured property it needs to fight the enemy in wartime conditions. Hence, the civilians will be instated as translators, clerks, laborers, and supply crewmembers for the duration of the conflict.

It is expected the government will release the civilians as the conflict ends.

Estovakian Casualties

3 Wounded
1 Dead

Status: 1 wounded is to be air evaced to a medical center. The rest are to be treated by medics and retunr to duty ASAP. The dead, a corporal, is to be collected by the Mortuary Unit of the 2nd Division Medical Corps.

OOC: How dry are we talking about? The days are hot and sunny with highs from about 30 degrees to 33 degrees. Afternoon thunderstorms have come about every other day and last for about 30 minutes before tapering off.

If what you're planning has something to do with scrub or brush burning to smoke them out, create a smoke screen, or burn them alive, then I can tell you that because of the sun a lot of the brush is dry and burnt.

And no, you don't have to take the cathedral. Somewhere during the fighting it has already been bombed. I just wanted to make sure therefore that you weren't fighting for that hill because they are already dead.

If you need air support though, I could always drop 500lb bombs or 250lb bombs or cluster bombs or anything you want. Just ask.

OOC:
Cluster bombs sound nice. What the Russians would do, is on hot summers as you've described, they would concentrate artillery fire on a section and sometimes deploy soldiers armed with incindiaries to ignite sections of forest or steppe to create a grass / forest fire that would then proceed to really screw up the Germans, who were not expecting that in the slightest. So yes, something like that, but I also wanted to find out what the risk of the place burning down around me while I'm preparing their positions with all kinds of explosive death is. Unfortunately kinda high. This might get a little hot. Ooo, bad pun. IC Post coming soon-ish.

OOC: Bit of a delay, sorry.

The TADS in the back of the "Vixen" showed all platoons in position. All the same, Russkyan training prevented the officer from believing all of what the electronics told him, and he looked down towards the flexibly laminated map sheet spread in his lap, twirling the greasestick pencil between two fingers. He picked up the radio handset and held the transmission key.

"Romeo Two to all India Two Romeos. Report your status and position, over."

The greasestick pencil lightly tapped on each unit marker on the map's laminated surface as they reported in, one by one, in a constant stream starting with 1.Plt's commander and trickling down. The large 155mm high-explosive fragmentation shells sighed overhead, arcing down onto the hilltop with a thunderous crash, the flash, smoke, sprayed debris, and other effects all invisible to the officer who sat in the back of the wheeled lightly armoured vehicle, black Glengarry tucked through an epaluette (shoulder strap) on his battledress jacket. He acknowledged the calls and put the handset down again.

Looking at the watch he wore on the inside of his left wrist, he watched the hands tick off the seconds and minutes. Outside the vehicle parked in a defilade with cam-net strung across it and the nearby medical facilities, the artillery marched up and down the hill, churning the crest into a mass of craters, dropping rounds around the base of it, marching up the slopes. It would be difficult to kill anything on the reverse side of that crest, it always was, with artillery, thanks to the trajectories. Then the hands met and the artillery fire concentrated in the crest.

The officer shook his head in frustration. At least he was close to the action, although he couldn't carry a rifle to battle himself, he wasn't so far behind the lines as not to be able to influence this directly if the need arose. That job was left to his Lieutenants, NCOs, and enlisted men, who currently stormed up the hill into a hail of fire and exploding steel. They saved their breath on the uphill climb, passing shattered positions that were too shallowly-dug, too wide, to protect effectively against artillery.

Unseen and unheard by the Company Commander, one soldier climbing the hill, an assistant gunner for the Dona Goaithe GPMG, stopped in a blasted foxhole. It was scoured clean of all sign of life, but the dirt held a reddish cast in a place or two, all that remained of its previous owners. The GPMG chattered briefly, forcing heads down as the artillery lifted. More machineguns joined this effort, and the tracer-heavy belts of ammunition soared over enemy heads by only a few inches or chewed up the ground infront of their faces. The loader felt the belt of 9.3x64mm move across his palms, and looked across to another GPMG which was fed from the hundred round steel box.
The lead platoon was almost to the crest, just below, and as the last artillery shell sighed home on the far side of the hill, they started their scream and stormed into the enemy positions, faces made inhuman with the distortion of bellowing their particular challenge and with the greasestick camouflage paint removing the familiar skin tones. A young Estonavian soldier jerked backwards as two faces rose infront of him, one slashing forward with the stock of his rifle, catching the boy in the chest and knocking him backwards.
That man moved further down the thin trench, crouching and firing short bursts that swept two more defenders away, including those behind a machinegun that went muzzle-to-sky, the dead gunner's hand still on the grip. The boy stupidly reached for a grenade, and although the gesture was brave, the second Glengarry struck him with the stock in the stomach, bellowing a Gaelic warning. Those men in the trench rolled up and out, and the boy stooped for the grenade just as the explosion cracked in the air and sent him flying against the far wall of the trench, body shredded with the shrapnel and distorted by the blast.

The soldiers rolled back into the trench and continued the fight. A dugout was found, a grenade tossed into it, a volley of fire rippled through the cloth sheet that served as a door. It billowed outwards in the force of the grenade explosion, and a badly wounded Estonavian officer lifted his sidearm, pulling the trigger until the slide locked back on an empty chamber and an entrenching tool split his face open. That Glengarry's MBRS rifle hung on the tactical sling, hurridly pushed behind him, with an Estonavian bullet lodged in the reciever, rendering the reliable weapon useless.

It took five minutes of hard fighting to clear and secure the hilltop. A few Estonavians managed to flee unmolested, they were the ones who ran early on. The others who stumbled down the hillside in their haste were hurried on their way with aimed fire, a few of them dropping dead or badly wounded in the grass. Five minutes, which felt like thirty. The majority of the defenders had been highly motivated to stay and fight, for whatever reason. Perhaps they were locals - immediate locals, ones whose homes were quite nearby, or perhaps they'd just been enraged by what was happening to their country and decided to inflict as much pain on the attackers as possible.

A surviving Lieutenant wiped his fighting knife clean on the shirt of a dead Estonavian NCO and re-sheathed it, calling out to his section NCOs for the butcher's bill. A similar call was heard all over the hilltop, and troops looked up at the smoke-less blue, clear sky.
Another hot day.

The Company Commander stopped twirling the greasestick pencil when the radio crackled on his frequency. He could hear, through the open door, the sounds of battle dying down from their pitched climax just a minute earlier, and hoped for the good news. He got it. The hill was secured, with fewer casualties than anticipated.

That said, there were eight dead, twelve badly wounded, and a dozen and a half with various light, superficial wounds, all of which would be able to continue the fight. Medics were already stabilizing those wounded, and L-16AMTs moved up the hill to recover the wounded. A General Purpose vehicle carried the dead back.

It was an hour or two before the Scouts moved again. This time they were attacking their main target, Gregorovce, which held a courthouse and county seat that was a major influence in the county. Sergeant Alvarado was one of the troops to attack the town. His squad and a few others from others squads, and a few M113, covnersed on the path to the town.

It's supposed to be easy, Sergeant Alvarado thought. It was too quiet for him. A little hamlet offered a small but fierce resistance, but a larger town doesn't have a single person? He knew that they should have been attacked by now yet not a single Gymnastiorka-clad soldier in sight.

Then it happened. A large explosion in the front of the convoy. The head M113 blew up in a large cloud of grey smoke. The rear hatch burst open from the shock and more smoke billowed out from the inside. As the soldiers in the other M113s ran out, a PKM opened up on the troops and some fell to the ground dead, others clutching an arm or a leg.

Sergeant Alvarado had ducked out of his M113 as the gunner provided suppression fire and landed in a ditch with a few other soldiers. Then a hand grenade landed on the top of Sergeant Alvarado's M113, and the resulting explosion shredded the machine gunner to bits. The explosion had ripped uniform and skin alike leaving the poor soldier a tattered bleeding mess. He tried to scream but couldn't as blood gurggled out of his mouth and blood streamed from his face, which was partially skinless, as white bone clearly showed.

Alvarado tried to look away, as well as count his blessings it wasn't him. But the Scout group was being attacked by an unknown force, much better organized and effective then the Gymnastiorka conscripts. These men weren't stupid. They utilized cover effectively, used suppression fire and flanking maneuvers, feigns, diversions, kept moving, never stayed in one place, always firing from a different direction. What was worse was he couldn't see who it was from.

The men were invisible as if ghosts were shooting at him. The tall grass and wooded areas around the Scout convoy provided the perfect ambush site and if the Estovakians weren't so over-confident from previous battles, where the battles were one-sided in their favor, they might have been more careful. But now Alvarado for the first time during the campaign felt like shitting bricks. Occasionally a tracer bullet would identify the location of the shooter and he could take a shot but other times it was like there was nobody there except them and that it was if by magic the men fell.

Of course, they knew what to do in this situation. Alvarado directed his one of his machine gunners to provide suppression fire, found a heavy grenadier to disrupt the enemy, got one of his grenadiers and a few soldiers to advance on the enemy's supposed left and had the rest of the soldiers provide cover fire. Soon, at least half the attackers were dead and the rest of the attackers either died soon after or retreated. The attacks dwindled down and tapered off and eventually it was just the Estovakians amongst themselves.

Shock turned to caution, caution turned to anguish, and anguish turned to rage. Many of the soldiers demanded to know who had attacked them, including Alvarado, and Alvarado and the remnants of the convoy fanned out to protect themselves as well as get justice amongst any of the enemy wounded.

Many, like Alvarado, knew it couldn't be Estonavian. It had to be Estovanian. Since when did the Estonavians fight like this? Alavardo trudged through tall grass, making his way through the wooded areas while carefully searching for booby traps or mines, he assumed their weren't any and fortunately for him, he didn'y step on any. As he made his way through the woods he heard a gunshot behind him, not far off. It was a three-round burst, isolated, from a G-36. He knew it had to be Estovakian; they had probably executed one of the wounded they found. Alvarado kept his finger on the trigger hoping he could be one of the lucky ones to exact his revenge, too.

He wasn't so lucky to find an alive one but he soon came upon one of the enemy corpses. His face was shot, right below the left eye, and another bullet through his steel helmet. His uniform was dirtied, but unmistakable: a Denison jump-smock in Disruptive Pattern Material. It was then that Alvarado noticed the patch right above his right breast, that of a paratrooper. Another patch below the corpses shoulder told the rest: he was part of Estonavia's 800-1000 strong paratrooper unit, Estonavia's elite, or as elite a unit as Estonavia has. It had been Estonavians the whole time.

The news made Alvarado very mad. He hissed and promised and swore to get vengence on the next Estonavians he saw. By the looks of the other Estovakians, they were just as ready. They called for more M113s and reinforcements, medevacs to take away the wounded, and called for gunship support.

Gregorovce was only 5 kilometers away.

Estovakian Killed

23 dead
5 wounded

Estonavian Killed

5? killed
??? wounded

OOC: From now on, Estonavian paratroopers will be rare but more frequent.

OOC: Acknowledged. Logistics post here, no combat. Assume forces continue their advance, stopping to laager between 22.00-05.00. Do not assume this is because Russkyan forces are not night-capable. Most local patrolling from the laager sites would be conducted during this time as well. No notable actions at present, although perhaps later. I have an idea.

The intelligence sheets were updated with information recieved from the Estovakians. An ambush had been conducted on an Estovakian column headed towards Gregorovce, conducted by Estonavia's elite, an Airborne unit reputed to be a thousand strong. Russkyan caution inflated that number to approximately 1,250 combat personnel on the high end, 750 on the low. Battalion commanders briefed their Captains, who in turn briefed their Lieutenants on the new threat, who in turn briefed their NCOs. The word was thus quickly passed around the ranks of the Russkyan Battlegroup.

Additional artillery had arrived from Russkya. "Grozom" artillery rocket systems had been lifted in, as well as additional munitions. Twenty of these vehicles now made up the bulk of the artillery contingent, and sufficient 300mm rockets of varying types were on-hand to conduct many dozens of fire-missions, with more being lifted in. The heavy lift pilots grumbled about their duty, repeating the obvious arguement again and again. Using aircraft to lift artillery munitions was inefficient.

However, with no needed deployments in the SFR and no use for the fleet elsewheres, the huge Soviet heavy-lift birds flew in and out of the airhead. It was somewhat costly, but excellent experiance for the flightcrews. So far the reliability and flightworthiness of these aircraft had been remarkable.

At the latest Russkyan position, Iltchenko was overjoyed. The kind of destructive firepower he could rain down in support of his troops with the twenty Grozom systems was not insubstantial in the slightest. Now, if only I had a Mechanized Infantry Regiment, and two companies of tanks, preferably the new "Zulu Mk. IIs," with the 140mm maingun. Although, nothing wrong with the 125mm of the Mk.I, he reflected. He looked up at the sky and stretched his neck, sticking his head inside a section-tent where a CD player quietly played DDT's "That's All."*

"That's a depressing song, desantnikii! Get us something better - Larek, Borodino? Surely you have some Konstantin Nicolsky."

He sat on a bunk, withdrawing a silver flask from his combat jacket's left breast pocket, uncorking it. He asked a short question, before he passed the flask around, filled with premium Vodka, flavoured with a strawberry and a handful of dried steppe-grasses.

"No-one going anywheres off-base today?"

"No, sir!"

Came the pleasantly surprised and confident reply. Batyanya had a few spare minutes and spent them relaxing with a handful of the men he commanded, occassionally asking questions about their experiances in the field, to better get a grasp on things. The need for him on-base was too great for him to get off on a patrol, no matter how many things he delegated to his X/O (Second in Command) and Operations Staff.

"Come on, these new Estonavians are Airborne! They're uncivilized, uncultured, borderline retarded! For the love of the Gods, they jump out of perfectly good airplanes for a living. Insanity! And what do we do?"

"Crash land the fucking plane, then get out and fight, sir!"

"Damn straight."

On the other side of the base, two of the loaned Estovakian Mi-24Ds were being painted with kill-markers underneath the cockpit canopy by the gunner's station. Some Estonavian light vehicles had gone up in flames thanks to these machines.

--
* - DDT is a Russian rock group, as is Konstantin Nicolsky. They would be popular in Russkya, with the Russkyan language being very similiar to Russian itself. As to the vodka-flavouring, I've had that, and it is surprisingly good, although lightly flavoured. In Russkya, there are both VDV and Airborne troops, a byproduct of the multinational influence. ABN tend to jump out of airplanes and regard the VDV as "Crazy sonbitches who crash then fight," and the VDV don't trust the ABN because they're "Crazy enough to jump out of a perfectly good airplane." VDV descend from glider-borne troops, essentially, and if I had the helicopters here they'd be air-assault personnel as their job specifications say.

OOC: Due to Estovakian/Estovanian air supremecy, Estonavian Airborne will not be a threat from the air. They were instead mobilized with the rest of the army and used more as elite infantry groups. Their original mission was to paradrop into the more anarchic regions and try to establish control. Thus, they were trained in counter-insurgency, surgical assaults, specialized warfare, etc, etc. They were used as a rapid response unit and were good because of their loyalty, training, and wealth of experience.

Now, they are used against us (most of them are used against the Estonavians fortunately). They are used sparingly near important targets to slow down our advance, to increase infantry morale, form effective defenses, set mines and booby trap, and so on and so forth. They are streadfast, aggressive (but not reckless) soldiers and are more likely to die than give up. They suffer the same logistical problems with the rest of the army (including variations of arms) but they shouldn't be underestimated.

Basically, the only reason why I included them is because frankly the RP has been too easy for Estovakia. I have bulldozed through the RP somewhat unrealistically, always it seems to pit my forces against stupid conscripts when in reality, if this happened in real life, the Estovakians would have suffered more casualties. The Estovakians aren't against a milita group but an army and even a poorly trained and equiped army can reek havoc if used rather effectively.

OOC:

i) In some instances I presume that by Estonavian, you infact mean Estovanian.
ii) As I explained above, it is a Russkyan VDV prejudice. I am fully aware that they will not 'hook up and line up' for a jump, due to Estovakian/Estovanian air supremacy.
iii) It is good to have my suspicions as to what these troops entail, confirmed.
iv) The RP has been rather easy for me as well, but I believe I have taken sufficient casualties to dispel any notion that this is a cakewalk.

The poorly trained and poorly equipped army is presumed to have inadaquete leadership. Is this not the case? If so, I will attempt to RP any Estonavian defence as being more of an obstacle.

OOC: I realize how much of an ass I sound like in that last post there. Apologies, I was not in a good mood when I wrote that. Yes, I understand what you're saying, in brief.

Caution, engrained in the soldier by the months of training and the experiance he had developed in the field, prevented him from removing his combat jacket. He did however losen the assault vest that held his grenades, smoke canisters, spare magazines, and a combat knife, and rested his back against the warm steel of the Fennek. They'd been waiting in this camouflaged position for two days, on the reverse side of a crest that overlooked a pair of roads with a village between them. This area would also be occupied by the Russkyans, but at the moment it was occupied by the Estonavians. It was a hot, hot day, and the sun beat down mercilessly, not a cloud in the sky. Beautiful, if one had air conditioning. Far too hot, otherwise.

The LRRPs had not recieved the updated intelligence files yet, and were puzzled by the new resolve they saw in their opponents working in the village. The high-powered optronic masts were good for detail, and the cameras saw DPM smocks, and these troops seemed more uniformly equipped than the Gymnastorika-clad soldiers. A defensive position was being well constructed, with slit trenches, foxholes, machinegun positions, and the man operating the cameras from inside the Fennek thought he saw the camouflaged tube of an antitank guided missile system. Undoubtedly, positions were also being prepared inside the village. The Russkyans could bypass it, but if those troops were of sufficient strength to maintain a decent defence and yet sortie forwards, there would be problems. Best to annhilate the position.

Enemy morale seemed much higher. They worked in the sunlight, filling sandbags and putting the finishing touches on positions they'd built overnight. Their camouflage was not as well done as it could have been, to the Russkyan's mind, but it was probably adaquete.

Patrols left the village and came back in. None of them reached as far out as the kilometer to the LRRP's position, but the Fenneks were ready to run at the first sign of contact. They could hardly afford to be engaged here - reconnaissance was of dubious value if the enemy knew they were being reconnoiter'd.

OOC:

i) In some instances I presume that by Estonavian, you infact mean Estovanian.
ii) As I explained above, it is a Russkyan VDV prejudice. I am fully aware that they will not 'hook up and line up' for a jump, due to Estovakian/Estovanian air supremacy.
iii) It is good to have my suspicions as to what these troops entail, confirmed.
iv) The RP has been rather easy for me as well, but I believe I have taken sufficient casualties to dispel any notion that this is a cakewalk.

The poorly trained and poorly equipped army is presumed to have inadaquete leadership. Is this not the case? If so, I will attempt to RP any Estonavian defence as being more of an obstacle.


i) In some instances I presume that by Estonavian, you infact mean Estovanian.
1. Corrected (I think...).

ii) As I explained above, it is a Russkyan VDV prejudice. I am fully aware that they will not 'hook up and line up' for a jump, due to Estovakian/Estovanian air supremacy.
2. I know. I wasn't writing in response to your post, I am just explaining the paratroopers further because i was rather sparse on their description.

iii) It is good to have my suspicions as to what these troops entail, confirmed.
3. Why I wrote above post.

iv)The RP has been rather easy for me as well, but I believe I have taken sufficient casualties to dispel any notion that this is a cakewalk.
4. Exactly. You have taken enough casualties. As I said:

Basically, the only reason why I included them is because frankly the RP has been too easy for Estovakia

Meaning me not you. You have RPed realistically, I haven't (IMO). If you have noticed, I seem to have ben rather lax with my casualty list. I need to start catching up.

The poorly trained and poorly equipped army is presumed to have inadaquete leadership. Is this not the case? If so, I will attempt to RP any Estonavian defence as being more of an obstacle.

The closer and closer we get to the capital, the more loyal and better the units (theoretically). You'll either get fresh conscripts hurried up to defend the capital, or you'll get units such as the paratroopers who are veteran and excellent soldiers.

Most Estonavian soldiers just want peace, and will surrender or desert rather quickly. The leadership suffers from poor morale, and being political appointments, the leadership quality varies from unit to unit.

However, if a veteran unit or expert unit (such as the paratroopers) are nearby, the units will fight more effectively. Such units can bring theire skill to the regulars and help them be an overall soldier. Having such a soldier nearby can also raise morale, but more likely it is the fear of being shot for treason or desertion that makes the regulars fight more diligently when around the paratroopers.

Thus, if you find an unusally ferocious enemy, you can bet it is because some paratrooper (although sometimes it is only a good officer) commanding the unit. If you kill the paratrooper or officer, you can be sure the unit will dissolve fairly quickly.

The paratroopers are used sparingly. Most of the 1,000 or so paratroopers were killed going against the Estovanians (being the bigger threat). The unit is decimated and cannot function effectively as it used to.

An unknown amount (<100) remains, but whatever the number is, the Estonavians felt it was too small to function as an effective unit. Thus, they are being used in leadership roles, morale roles, etc. You won't find more than two or three at a time together. The unit itself is dissolved.

OOC:

Ah, I see. Commissar-theory.


Meaning me not you. You have RPed realistically, I haven't (IMO). If you have noticed, I seem to have ben rather lax with my casualty list. I need to start catching up.


See, I disagree with this. You haven't been listing your casualties all the time, I have. Then again, you have been handling the bulk of the fighting. I see what you're saying now.

With this new information on the parachutists, I am going to have to bring up the snipers from BDE and the PLT Marksmen far more often.

The AT4 slammed into the side of the T-55. It however, did not explode.

"Shit! A Dud!" The Corporal ran behind brick debris in a small alleyway.

The T-55 had entered the town, rather foolishly since it couldn't do much in the close quarters. The paratroopers had damaged the tracks with satchal charges and it couldn't move. The tank still had bite however, and was about as lethal as before if you got in its range of its guns.

It was close quarters combat. The Estonavians were trying to break out of Gromadin. It was a close combat, a match worthy of the platoon. They were outnumbered but not necessarily beaten, since the attacks were disorganized and illogical as the disabled T-55 had proved. The attackers came in piecemeal, foolishly abandoning the tall grass and instead advancing in the open where the Estovakians cut them down.

Lieutenant Diaz waited for the air support. Finally a Gazelle took care of the tank with a TOW while a PAH-2 Tiger chewed up infantry with its 30 mm turreted gun, which was much more powerful for the role then necessary. The Estonavian attack had failed and the attack stalled rather quickly, with retreating units dishearting the advancing units until they too retreated. Reinforcement of mechanized infantry quickly took over the area and an additional armoured platoon of Leopard 2 A4 tanks kept a close eye for more tanks.

The paratrooper group had escaped miraculosuly without any fatalities, although five, or about a quarter of their force, were wounded. They had managed to take twice their number in captives however, and with the convenient reinforcements (which Diaz noted came conveniently right after the battle was over), the tally came to over a hundred captives. The captives weren't particualrly exhusted, glazed over, and ragged as Diaz thought the Estonavians might look like, but they lacked the enthusiasm and morale that was war winning.

But who could blame them? 300,000 women and children died in the civil wars. The death toll for men was higher between the milita skirmishes, murders, kidnappings, reprisal killings, and the endless cycle of violence. Some regions lost as much as 70% of its males; to be part of the 30% is more than any of the survivors could ask for. To die in a futile war would only add to the misery.

To understand the misery, one must understand that 60 years ago Estonavia was world renowned for its natural beauty, arts and culture (being a central country meant its culture and art was diverse from the different influences), naturally good natured people, good looking people (it was once the fashion capital of the peninsula), and just generally nice overall. Seeing it today is enough to make anyone cry.

"Sir?" Diaz's radioman came up to Diaz.

"Yes?"

"HQ."

Diaz took the receiver of the SatCom. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Lieutenant Diaz?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tired?"

"Yes, sir."

The voice on the other end was unapologetic. "Too bad. You are to regroup and take the remnants of your platoon to Gregorovce to the east immediately as per your instructions.You are to reinforce Colonel Metzger's platoon and recon units post haste. They have suffered significant casualties and need reinofrcements immediately. Understood?"

"Yes sir, of course sir."

"Very well. Over and out."

Diaz turned to his Master Sergeant. "Alright. Gather up the men. Find the M113s for us that are around here somewhere as and let's get good to go."

OOC: I found the picture I was basing the Estonavian paratroopers on.

Estonavian Paratrooper (http://www.freewebs.com/estovakia/paratroopers%20001.jpg)

Separate OOC: I am trying to work out Estovakian Army units. A while back I think you asked something about artillery and to be honest I had no clue as to how many I needed. Personally, and in your opinion, how would you group artillery units? Would you group mortars with the artillery units or with infantry units?

OOC:
- I group tube artillery (Gun-howitzers, etc) and rocket artillery into "Batteries," which belong to Artillery Regiments. This is all Russkyan Military-parlance, keep in mind. Organic to the Infantry units I include 81mm mortars at I believe the Battalion level, and possibly 120mm mortars at the Brigade level. Mind you, I also have heavy machineguns and ATGM teams at the Battalion level as well.

It is also an option to create "Light Heavy Weapon Companies," which is a confusing term, but in essention the Infantry heavy weaps. Mortars, Heavy Machineguns (Which were designed for killing APCs / IFVs, and can do that job if you know machinegunnery), and ATGMs. These can be "attached," for the duration of a mission or operation, to say, an Infantry unit, which gives them increased firepower and other capabilities.

Office of Foreign Affairs Press Release
Destruction of Ancient Landmark Despicable

The Socialist Democratic Republic of Estovania condemns the excessive and unnecessary force that was used today to destroy a cathedral more than a thousand years old. It is plainly evident that Estovakia cares little for the culture of the peninsula except for replacing it with the horrid fascist ideology.

It was an unnecessary act since the area could easily have been bypassed with no damage done. Thus is not only regrettable but despicable and disgusting that such a nation would have such gaul as to defile the long standing and well established culture that makes the Stovakian Peninsula unique.

The lack of voice from the countries of the Peninsula and of involved powers, of curbing Estovakia's belligerent actions and imperialist mentality will cause doom for the peninsula. Perhaps when the democratists are put into concentration camps and the socialists and communists are massacred as they both were five years ago in Estovakia that others will listen but by then it may be too late. I call on my fellow Stovakian nations, and other nations around the world, to pressure Estovakia onto putting an end to the violence and the aggression.

Sincerely,
Josef Komorovsky
Officer of Foreign Affairs

OOC: What is happening with Fort Hart?

Official Diplomatic Communique to the Russkyan Foriegn Ministry

From:
Josef Komorovsky
Officer of Foreign Affairs

(OOC: I presume)
To: Ivan Gaslukatov
--of the--
RMSMC & Foriegn Ministry

Cc: Members of the Central Party of Russkya

Fellow Socialists of the The People's Socialist Republic of Russkya and respective oblasti and territorys of the republic, Estovania would like to thank you most kindly for your efforts to peacekeep and bring order to such a turbulent area. Your kind hearts and intelligence is obviously just a few of the traits that makes your country truly great.

However, we are deeply disturbed by the amount of trust and cooperation you and your government put into the fascist Estovakians. As intelligent people you are obviously aware that these Estovakians are belligerent, war-like, and bent on imperialist objectives which are quite different from the "peacekeeping missions" they claim to be on. This "peacekeeping mission" is nothing more than a front for the annexation of yet another country into their fascist dominion and the spread of the disease they call fascist ideology.

As fellow Socialists, we Estovanians feel it is our right to inform our brother Russkyans of the true nature of the Estovakians. To put it simply, the Estovakians are fascist, belligerent, power hungry men who will more then likely throw you into a ditch if convenient enough.

As you already know, their economy is dependent on conquest and victory to keep them temporarily sustained as they rape and violate the beautiful landscapes for material and people to feed into their bores of their guns. Their people are fragmented amongst white supremacists, hardcare fascists, jingoistics, and an unruly underclass that burst at the seams from inequality and bureaucratic rot. They country neglects its people and instead diverts their anger into their war machine.

How did they get their colonies? You know yourself, through conquest and subversion.

What happened to their political parties? First, they captured and imprsioned the democratists and capitalists in concentration camps to die. Then they turned on the communists and the socialists, destroying every man, woman, and child. Our brave brothers fought viciously by themselves, forgotten by the world, and they lasted about a year against a highly trained army. The last of them died in a heroic battle forever known by the socialists of the peninsula as the Charge of the Frozen River, where they charged over a frozen river barefoot and hungry to meet their fate rather then die drones of the fascists.

Do not disgrace the fallen. Honor their memories. Remember our mission to spread our wisdom to the world, to spread our message of fellowship and brotherhood.

Do not fall victim to Estovakian sweet talk. Do not help spread their message of hate and evil. And above all, do not turn your back to those who need you.

Work with us. Help us help other socialists. Do not listen to the Estovakians' words but act with Estonavia to solve the problems, not create more. As you know, we are the peace and the stabilty and the good of the world.

And if nothing else, think of yourselves. It may be you who are there with them today, but are they going to be with you tommorrow?

You already know the answer.

OOC: What is happening with Fort Hart?

(OOC: Seeing as Estovania virtually "owns" (something like 5,000 or so men against 70) I wouldn't espect your men in the fort to last long being as I could easy just shell the men to death or SCUD it or something without even having to engage a single man. The remainder I thought were supposed to travel across the mountainous regions were you would proabably come dangerously close to (or in) Estovanian front lines, join up with the Estovakians and head east to Karadjevo.

You left fort, then disappeared (I assumed your were busy, I've seen you on other RPs since your last post, including I think going against or allied with a Girffencrest Corporation?) .

Idk what happened with your men. Your prison legion wouldn't (or didn't) last long: Your thousand or so men against half a million didn't distract the military at all from its objective of trying to wipe out terrorists and rogue bandits (that's you) from its objective.

But as for Fort Hart, its basically screwed. Sorry.

OOC: Ok

The Confederate forces finally made it back after their journey back to friendly lines. The convoy pulled up to the Estovakian command tent. The colonel stepped out and approached the Estovakian commander. The colonel's face was coveed in dirt, ash, and sweat.

"We are down about 25% of our force. We can still help. Tell us where to go"

Major Iltchenko took the offered handset from the Communications Technician, a Warrant Officer by rank, and depressed the transmit key. This would be broadcast on the same frequency that the near-constant "Russkyan Battlegroup Radio" had been playing classical music for weeks now over. Anyone listening to that frequency would hear Iltchenko's message.

And, you're on. Showtime.

Iltchenko grinned slightly to himself and took a deep breath.

"Gentlemen and Gentlewomen of Estonavia. It has recently come to my attention that the Estovanian government has condemned the Estovakian bombing of a cathedral, situated on a hilltop commanding a respectable view of the surrounding countryside. While regrettable, this action was nessecary. As you are well aware, Estonavian forces occupying this terrain feature would have been able to sortie against Estovakian or Russkyan personnel fighting in the immediate area, or to call more precise artillery fire upon them. Both of these are unacceptable.

As you may be aware, the Russkyan forces present will not take any action to ensure your safety if it compromises their own. We have taken steps to avoid indiscriminate fire which may endanger civilian lives, but I refuse to order the men under my command to risk themselves for you when you so actively resist our occupation.

I must take the time now, in light of recent communiques with the Russkyan government, to explain the evolution of the Russkyan commitment here. It began as a group of observers under my command. We conducted local patrolling and intelligence-gathering operations, encountering several mass gravesites. The guilt of any involved parties could not be determined, and in our experiances in irregular warfare, irregular forces often kill the local population to inflame passions amongst the survivors. It was near this stage that several of my patrols were engaged by enemy forces, be they partisan or other. Little was known, but these enemy troops were known not to be the Estovakians. We aligned ourselves with the Estovakians in the hopes of bringing stability to the country as rapidly as possible, by supporting their military operations. And unfortunately, perhaps, we are not in the habit of turning our backs on our allies.

Some of you may know that the Russkyan Military is also involved in other overseas operations, including a civil war in a nearby nation. In that conflict, Russkyan troops are engaging men belonging to the Fascist faction, and it is nessecary to understand that politics does not influence my decision-making greatly. What we have done, is hopefully helped you in the long run. No violations of international law have been committed in the presence of the Russkyan Battlegroup's forces by either my own soldiers, or those of Estovakia. Until you bring forth evidence to support recently-made claims made by the Estovanian government, I will not change my operational aims.

I must point out to you now, what good our presence has done for your nation. We have repaired roadways, bridges, other infrastructure. We have built new bridges. I know that Russkyan troops, when not engaged in combat, have presented a friendly front to the locals. We have helped you repair your homes. We have cleared minefields, disabled traps that would otherwise have indiscriminately killed you and yours for years afterwards. And granted, much of this is in support of our operations in this theatre, but the good these actions bring will not leave when the Russkyan forces are withdrawn.

I must urge you to surrender, to the Estovakians or to the Russkyans. I give you my word as an officer that you will be well treated, and if you fear captivity under the Estovakians, that you will be kept in a Prisoner of War facility under Russkyan protection, or shipped to the Russkyan homeland, where you may be repatriated at the conflict's end. The only way the bloodshed and unnessecary violence will end is when you cease all resistance to the continuation of Estovakian and Russkyan operations.

To further improve your safety, do not support partisans. Do not allow the construction of Estonavian defences on your property or near your villages, towns, cities, or homes. Recently my battlegroup has obtained a rather large amount of artillery, to include rocket artillery, and that these weapons, while precise for what they are, cause great damage, which further imperils your lives. Give up now, so that your homeland may return to peace as soon as possible.

Try to stay alive, and think of what I have said. We now return to our regular programming."

Iltchenko released the transmit key and handed the handset back to the Warrant Officer.

"Get all of that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Broadcast it every two hours. Keep up the Mozart, give them some Tchaikovsky overnight... play the Eighteen-Twelve Overture in the morning, just incase they leave it on overnight, that'll wake them up."

"Yes, Major."

The Commstech grinned and Iltchenko walked to his bunk, sitting heavily on the edge and breaking his weapon down without thought, cleaning it and reassembling it, loading a magazine but not chambering a round. He rested the AKS-74M on the ground, stock extended and locked in place, leaning against his 'bunk-side' table. He hung his boot-soles off the far edge of his bunk, pulled his pillow towards him, augmented with a rolled-up combat jacket, and ran a hand over the black stubble coating his cheeks and chin, willing himself to sleep, to get a few hours of rest in. He reached for his Kalashnikov, thinking to lay it on the table rather than lean it against it, but by the time his fingertips touched steel he was already asleep.

OOC: I had a better response written earlier, but when I went to post it, the forums went and decided to assfuck me. Bastard thing. So this is the hastily re-written version. I will compose a response to the Estovanian communique in the morning.

Official Diplomatic Communique - Response to Previous Missive.


Addressed to:
- Josef Komorovsky, Officer of Foreign Affairs.
- Estovanian Political Leadership. (Whom it may concern)
- Estovanian General Staff.

From:
- Viktor Govak, Minister of the Interior and Foreign Affairs.

Carbon Copied:
- Major Iltchenko, Russkyan Battlegroup Commander.

-- -- --

The People's Socialist Republic of Russkya wishes to extend greetings to the people and leadership of The Confederacy of Estovania.

Your misgivings as to the Russkyan Battlegroup's cooperation with the Estovakians is understandable. In order to understand the actions taken by the Battlegroup Commander, responsible for all Russkyan forces in the theatre and areas of operation, one must have a clear understanding of the history that prompted the Battlegroup's evolution.

Initial Russkyan involvement consisted of a reinforced Rifle Company drawn from the VDV and suitably equipped with vehicles taken from and crewed by the Russko-Celtic Corps. This unit was placed under the existing Company Commander's command, then-Captain Iltchenko. This unit was tasked with observation and intelligence-gathering, to avoid combat when possible, and to conduct frequent patrol operations. It was to be referred to as the "Russkyan Observer Detatchment," or in military communications, "OBSDET."

Patrolling turned up some evidence of atrocities conducted by unknown forces. In one small village, an unmarked mass grave was located, when the patrol became engaged in a stand-off with unknown forces, believed to be Exponent, later known as, Blackhelm Confederacy airmobile troops. This stand-off concluded without casualties, but then-Captain Iltchenko followed his instincts, training, and existing directives, and aligned himself with Estovakian units in order to place his command in a more favourable situation, which would protect the men entrusted to him and allow him to continue completing his objectives.

Over the period of a week, rapid and thorough intelligence gathering was conducted on all known factions, nations, and any other present elements. It was determined that, although Fascist, the Estovakians - who were currently engaged in military operations inside Estonavian territory - were best suited to stabilize the region after its military occupation. The opportunity to conduct actual "peacekeeping" operations in the area never materialized.

It should be noted by the Estovanian leadership at this point that the Russkyans, both their political and military leadership, as well as the people themselves, are fully aware of the dangers of Fascism and its existence as a fear-based, self-destructive, futile system of government. However, there are varying degrees of Fascism and it is considered that a Fascist government is better than no government at all. Estovakian control over Estonavia ensures some level of stability, increasing the safety for the local population, and such action would allow humanitarian operations to commence at the first available opportunity.

Had Major (then Captain) Iltchenko had the option to align himself with Estovanian forces, it is likely this would have been done had they been conducting operations similiar to those of the Estovakians with the aim of securing Estonavian territory, and subsequently stabilizing it. However, no such Estovanian action happened, nor did any Stovakian, Stovacean, or Walladonian actions.

PSR Russkya places little weight on ideological leanings, meaning that politics becomes a rather different game. The Politburo prefers to make their decisions based on known current and past actions of the nations or factions in question. This is how it is possible, on one hand, to have a Russkyan Battlegroup supporting Estovakian operations and on the other hand, have a large military force of several Divisions and Regiments operating in a nearby nation currently experiancing a civil war to combat the Fascist faction present.

We do not see our involvement in this area to be turning our backs on those who are in need of aid. Unfortunately, your existing offer, as percieved in the body of your earlier missive, would require the Russkyan Battlegroup and the Russkyan Government to turn their backs on their Estovakian allies, something the people of Russkya are simply not in the habit of doing.

Russkyan forces will be ordered not to engage Estovanian units unless action must be taken in self-defence.

With best regards and condolences for your losses during the year-long campaign culminating with the Charge of the Frozen River,
- Minister Viktor Govak, People's Socialist Republic of Russkya.

OOC: I would just like to note that in RL I am not a fascist in case any of you were wondering. It just that I wanted to have an excuse for a military state and by being a democracy, it just wouldn't make sense. Too many people in NS are communist or tinpot Kim Jong Il wannabes and so I felt that making a fascist government to be the only alternative.

By also being a fascist state, it cuts down on the number of people I have to RP as. For example, instead of RPing as a whole Parliament, judicial system, and prime minister or president position, I only have to worry about a single "Commander" or "Generalissimo" and therefore I can concentrate on making a realistic person with thoughts, feelings, morals, etc.

If some of have noticed I tend to RP as a character (in this case either Colonel Metzger, Sergeant Alvarado, Lieutenant Diaz, or Vlad) to fill in the sotry rather than an entity or body. This way, I can show different spectrums of the same people. For example, Colonel Metzger doesn't give a shit about fascism or the government (he is pro-democratic), Sergeant Alvarado is a good soldier (although he is starting to become different), Lieutenant Diaz likewise is a dutiful soldier, and Vlad is an on-the-fly and piss-in-the-pants "yahoo" secret agent who is quite brazen and reckless. Nobody's perfect, nobody's invincible (Col. Metzger's wife and children dissapeared after all and he was sent on a practically impossible mission), and everything isn't as bright and sunny and perfect as everyone would like. Of course, I can't really show a full battle as the battles are only seen through the characters or their knowledge (hence why I haven't kept an accuarate tally of my casualties, but it should be ~450 dead, ~2.400 wounded).

Another pain is the fact that as a fascist nation, I have to (well I don't have to but since I try to be as realistic as possible) RP all the bad that comes with fascism, including factions such as hardicore fascists, white supremecists, jingoists, and xenophobes and internal issues such as restricted rights, internal unrest, illegal immigration, illegal emigration, etc. I try to show this through the characters in passing (such as when Metzger pointed out the 7th Division couldn't be delpoyed because of indiginous unrest (only 39% of the population are ethnically Estovakian in Estovakia, a serious issue) because as everyone knows, no country is perfect, incorruptable, or invincible.

Now that I've got that out of the way... (I just didn't want any of you to think I was a neo-nazi or something)

Since I'm in OOC right now, I'd also like to address Estonavia. Estonavia, I would just like to point out, doesn't really give a damn that Estovakia is fascist or not, just that Estovakia is Estovakia. It will do whatever it can to annoy the hell out of Estovakia and vice versa. Estonavia won't go so far as to declare war on Estovakia but will do everything in its power to try to ruin Estovakia and again vice versa. You can't trust an Estovakian to give an honest answer about an Estovanian, and you can't trust an Estovanian to give an honest answer about Estovakia. Both sides tend to greatly demonize and exaggerate each other.

As outsiders, and thus "representatives of the world's opinion", you people (Russkya and Blackhelm) hold a special power. The Stovakian Peninsula will more than likely support the side that other foreign nations not of the peninsula support to try to make themselves look better. Thus, while the peninsula is so far quiet toward Estovakia, if you two just randomly decided to join Estonavia, Estovakia would have to stop its large scale actions.

Just thought I'd explain peninsula politics a little more.


And...


OOC: I had a better response written earlier, but when I went to post it, the forums went and decided to assfuck me. Bastard thing. So this is the hastily re-written version. I will compose a response to the Estovanian communique in the morning.

Do what I do before I post: Ctrl+C your post. That way if the forums decide to assfuck you, murder you, and throw you into a dumpster, you can at the very least (with your last ounce of strength and your very last breath ;) ) re-post and submit what you wrote.

I learned to that the hard way. I once made a mega-post (with my oldest nation) that took three hours to make, only for the forums to shit all over the place. To say the least, I was pissed.

OOC: Ok

The Confederate forces finally made it back after their journey back to friendly lines. The convoy pulled up to the Estovakian command tent. The colonel stepped out and approached the Estovakian commander. The colonel's face was coveed in dirt, ash, and sweat.

"We are down about 25% of our force. We can still help. Tell us where to go"

A Brigadier General, one of many, acknowledged the soiled colonel. "It's good to know that you're still alive. I don't know if you are familiar with the guerilla situation in Estonavia - you could try to tackle that. I am not the senior commander here, but as Estovakia cannot recognize you officially as an ally since you attacked Estovania openly, and thus would bring us into open war, it is just as well as I give you orders as my superior since neither he nor I can give you official orders. However, if you would still like to help, look at the map here." The general pointed to a map on a table. "We have guerilla activity in the Gromadin Forest and it would be helpful if you can eliminate it."

"If you prefer however, I might be able to set you up with a different mission. You'd only be able to take at most a dozen men, since it would involve parachuting- did I mention that?- Anyway, you'd be inserted into Estonavia via a chartered civilian aircraft about 30kilometers north of Estovania. You'd then be responsible for sabotaging the railroad so as to delay the Estovanians, and making it back in one piece, preferably by not attracting attention to yourselves. If we can slow down the Estovanian advance- without them knowing it was the us that either did it or sent you- it would be preferable. We'd give your 12 men special explosives that are specially designed to hug the rails so that a train could run over it. that way, when the train would run over it, the charge would explode, either blowing off the wheels or bending them and thus derailing the train and causing a massive train wreck.

"We'd give you about 6 charges, or about three opportunities since you'd be using two a mission, and you can sabotage the Estovanian tranportation network so as to slow them down. You'd have to find your own way back, which would be difficult with military chasing you and civilians watching out, but it would be a good way to get revenge for For Hart if I ever so one."

"The good thing about being unofficial is that you can't be ordered so you could decide whichever mission better suits you. I myself would prefer counter-insurgency over being parachuted into enemy territory any day, but then again I'm not qualified to para-jump anyway. It really is up to you."

"We'll take the para-drop. All my men are Honor Guard, Confederate Special Forces. We are trained to do shit like this. Besides that, I want to kick Estovanian ass out there. Those fuckers got alot of good men killed out there. They will pay for spilling Confederate blood." the colonel said.

"So where is this plane?"

Quickly, the Seikel Government dispatched the 20,000 men needed for the 'peacekeeping' mission that might be required. The men were heavily armed.


The 22 CH-47s flew in Flank formations, along with the Apcahes and Black Hawks that followed them closely, providing firing power if needed. Each one marked with the mark of the Seikel PeaceKeeping.

Eventually, the commander of the group paused, as he was sitting in the cockpit of the CH-47 that was leading. Pointing at a map. “Here.” It was near the majority of the Russkya forces, and he knew that they would support them, or it'd be be a horrible blood fight.

After hours of flying, they arrived and began to touch down. Surprised that they actually made it this far. The men piling out and securing the area, snipers taking positions and soldiers began to clear out the area from anything that might pose a risk to the soldiers and items being unloaded and then the tanks began to roll out, along with the Armed Carrier Units, and then tents began to spring up, camo colored.

Comlinks set and powered up and local-sattelite bands adjusted and fences rose and locked into place in the ground, as the copters stayed where they were. A 50ft antenna being set up in the period of time as planning was being done. Eventually, they had a plan. Engineers would repair any bridges/power lines and such, but military would accompany. A soldier typing up the sattelite command console and beginning to take photos of the surrounding area.

Dispatching soldiers but attempting to raise Russkya on the closed bands, wondering if they might respond. Tanks rolling out into the surrounding areas with HMMVs armed with 50cals. Each soldier carrying a M-16 or MP-5 or the snipers carrying SVDs. They were perpared.

"We'll take the para-drop. All my men are Honor Guard, Confederate Special Forces. We are trained to do shit like this. Besides that, I want to kick Estovanian ass out there. Those fuckers got alot of good men killed out there. They will pay for spilling Confederate blood." the colonel said.

"So where is this plane?"

"Follow the road going north for about 5 kilometers, then when you get to a junction, make a left and go northwest. You'll see the airfield soon enough. It's a small civie airfield used to handle domestic aircraft. If you see a soldier wave you through, you're in the right place. Find a spec ops at the airfield and he'll get you somebody who can give you the charges. I'm not in charge of the program so I can't tell you much more; I told you all I know."

Gunfire erupted from Sergeant Alvarado's south. The platoon he was in, being somewhat depleted and understrength from the attack earlier, was sent stealthily north around Gregorvce to attack the rear of the Estonavian forces where the resistance should be lighter, since the shouldn't be expecting an attack from that direction. The gunfire he heard originated from the Estovakian paratroopers engaging the foward defenses.

The plan was to divert the defenders into thinking the attack was coming from the front, and sneak a few men in the rear to take out their supplies and attack them from the rear to demoralize and destroy them.

Sergeant Alvarado led his men carefully within range of the town limits. The other squads had led their men along a line of tall bushes, trees, and plant growth, but his squad had no such cover and thus moved slower and quieter until they reached cover a little foward of the other squads. It offered a good vantage point to scope out at least the northern part of the town, being on a slightly raised piece of ground, and Alvarado took the oportunity to take his binoculars out.

He looked first at the small spire that topped the courthouse to check for snipers. He saw snipers but noticed that their bodies were limp and lying on the ledge. Evidently they were already dead. He then scoped out the north entrance noticing only a few soldiers, probably the most inexperienced he figured, as they jumped at every burst or mortar shell. The plan probably worked; virtually all of the men had gone to defend against the main attack.

A corporal tapped the Sergeant on the shoulder. The Sergeant turned and faced the corporal who silently signaled what the Lieutenant had tried to hand signal to him if he had seen him give the command. Alvarado understood the commands which meant that the left-most squad was to attack the sentries and the right-most squad was to wheel around the right to finish off any that were left. That meant his squad and he were to support.

He watched as the left squad came dangerously close to the sentries, who were too scared to know what was going on. The squad members popped up from the prone position, or from behind bushes, and fired point blank into the three sentries whom immediately collapsed to the ground. The right- most squad had little to do as the left squad had taken care of it but cover Alvardo's squad so they could advance. Alvardo's men rose up from the prone position and ran hastily until they arrived at the right squad's position. Normally, what they had done would have attracted attention but in all the confusion and gunfire, their entrance had apparently gone unnoticed. The Lieutenant radioed quietly to all of the squad leaders where to go next. The left squad which he was with, would stay behind to cover down the street, the right-most squad would take a three story building down the main street via backyards, and Alvarado's squad would advanced from the left also through backyards and avoiding the street, and occupy a building which was at the center of a "T" intersection, thus allowing the occupier to see and cover from three directions.

Again, nobody had challanged their movements. The right-most squad had occupied the four-story building and its excellent view (it was one of the tallest in the village), the Lietenant's squad had covered apparently unnecessarily, and Alvarado had managed to break into and occupy the strategic building. Despite, a close call when a freak light mortar round landed in front of Alvardo's building, shattering a few windows, nothing bad happened so far.

The Lieutenant's squad joined up with the right squad and the Lieuteant issued orders from the excellent vantage point. Down the north-south road closer to the Estonavian fighting soldiers there was a small makeshift ammo dump. Alvarado was assigned to eliminate the soldiers there. The right-squad was to go down the east-west road and take the courthouse. The Lieutenant's squad was to be split, with half going to occupy the building Alvarado's men were in, while the Lieutenant and the remainder of the squad was to hold the four-story building.

Alvarado and his squad were alone. He grudgingly accepted that fact and moved out of his building, a one story house.The zig-zagged through lawns and yards, through alleyways, and down the street itself for a short stretch. He finally neared the dump. He couldn't see the soldiers but he could hear them. He could hear their shuffling feet, the ammo crates being unloaded or moved, and the occasional brief comment. Judging roughly by what he overheard and estimated, he determined that it'd be best to split his squad up into two parts: his team would attack from the north while the other would attack from the west through an alleyway. When the other team got into position, they radioed in to Alvarado. He ordered his men to engage. His team wrapped around a wall and then rushed around it firing at surprised and startled men, many of whom were unarmed and carrying crates. The other team fired at sentires and other men.

A brief struggle ensued. A few surviving Estonavians ducked behind crates and pulled out brand new weapons, recently oiled and smelling of "new gun smell" as Alvarado liked to term it. They fired aimlessly and dangerously over crates, the bullets ricocheting and sometimes penetrating other crates. Occasionally, they'd pop out to see where they were shooting and then his squad would get them. The last Estonavian was encircled and shot from behind. Now Alvarado very carefully checked to see if he was detected. He ordered his men to drag bodies quickly behind ammo crates.

Now sooner had he done so that he heard hurried footsteps. He wasn't sure if they were his or not so he and his men got down. When the soldiers came briefly into view he saw they were indeed Estonavian, but they weren't running toward him, but down the street past his men as if they were retreating. He ducked back behind his crate and stole a garrison cap from the dead corpse next to him. He took off his helmet and put the cap on to trick any eye at least temporarily into thinking he was an Estonavian.

He stuck his head out again and saw more and more men were running down the street now, many of them dirty, bandaged, and tired. He ducked his head back in and no sooner had he done so then he heard fire coming from down the street. Estovakian gun fire, from the house, the four-story, and the courthouse -evidently taken by one fo the squads- poured into the Estonavians. An Estovakian MG gunner poured rounds from his MG3 into retreating Estonavians some of whom were only about 8 meters away. The retreating line basically fell from the Estovakian firepower in one swoop, much like a sickle to wheat. Brief amounts of gunfire from the Estonavians prevented instant and total annhiliation as it allowed for brief respites from the fire to allow the Estonavians to ditch or find cover. Some found cover by hiding directly in front of Alvarado's ammo crate. They moved on, but a paratrooper took those soldiers' places.

He must have been in his early thirties, rather old looking compared to the fresh and raw conscripts. He was a machine gunner and carried around a FN MAG, which was rare in the Estonavian arsenal. His grizzled face and rough looking appearance spoke volumes of his experience and training and elite status. Alvarado silently pulled out his service pistol- which he seldom if ever used- and got ready to fire. The paratrooper, most likely noticing the cap, turned around and met the Sergeant face-to-face.

"Damn it soldier. Don't just hide there! You and the rest of the crewboys get suppressing fire on that courthouse".

In the split second afterwards, Alvarado noticed the paratrooper's shock as a 9mm raced toward his eyeball. The bullet penetrated leaving a disgusting disfigured face with red pulp and blood exploding outward. Alvarado fired two more rounds before the para's head reached the ground, his face drenched in crimson. Alvardo's clothes and face too were covered in blood. It was almost hard to tell who shot who. Alvarado fired wildly into the rertreating soldiers, now aware of his presense. He wounded one, and the remainder of his bullets missed. Some Estonavians put up a brief fight but disengaged soon after, either afraid of hitting ammo or just afraid to dave their own hide and most continued looking for avenues of escape from the advancing Estovakians - the paratroopers. With the main routes cut off either from flanking fire from the courthouse or the four-story, or direct fire from the house,many estonavians died. Some Estonavians managed to evade the fire by going through the backyards and alleyways and stealthily or quickly making their way passed or around the fire, and continued their escape northward, but the majority just held their heads, found whatever cover they could, and just sat tight. As soon as Alvarado emerged with the rest of his men with weapons drawn, the Estonavians surrendered dispite pleas from a few officers. Advancing paratroopers emerged from the south only five minutes later and helped Alvarado with the prisoners which was good since he and his men were outnumbered 3:1.

The town wasn't completely taken yet; the southeast still held. But that would soon be flanked and overran. Alvarado was only concerned with himself right then and there. He was tired and hot from the summer heat and sticky from sweat and blood and just sat on the doorstep to some random house. He took off the cap that he was still wearing and threw it on the ground.

He was exhusted and the worst was yet to come.

It was just after dark. The days of summer were beginning to end earlier and earlier now. The day was done, the fighting temporarily stopped. Lieutenant Diaz looked at his illuminated watch.

"Hmph. 9:00."

He glanced over towaard the medical tent, where a few of his men lay, some injured, some dead. Today, 21 injured and a high number of 8 dead, two from his own platoon. It was always hard to lose men. The saddest part of it though, was the fact that he as starting to get use to it.

In the distance he could hear rumbling. It wasn't artillery, but the summer thunderstorm. A relatively cool wind blew through the town, a sign of what was to come. Soon a wall of rain would move up to Gregorvce. He tried to find shelter for the night, walking past a few destroyed houses and finally find a bullet-strewn building that was a library.

He could have slept outside, but he didn't like when he had to fold up his tent in the early morning, when it still had water on it. Because when he did so, it became moldy and the one flaw Lieutenant Diaz had was his avid and stubborn allergies. He layed down in the library and watched as first a few drops of rain, and then a multitude, pitter-pattered on the window panes. Relaxed, he tried to fall asleep but for some reason he couldn't. He knew for some reason, he'd have to get up soon.

He didn't know why though.

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

It was a deluge outside. Fortunately, Vlad thought, they had a roof over their heads, a small refrigerator full of food, and no reason to go out. He moved over to where his friend Miroslav was asleep in a chair with half-finished notations of resistence reports and intelligence reports, being careful not to creak on the wooden floor.

It was a small, cramped apartment -a bit stuffy too- but nonetheless it was located conviently down the street from the Presidential Manor where they could keep an eye on things. Tonight however, was the start before the Estovakian push on the city. It was his turn to stay up and look for anything suspicious outside, wait for any phone calls from the resistance movement, watch some nighttime television, which was usually boring, and that was about it.

Nothing was going on, nothing went on and Vlad wondered if sleep would do him better then staying up almost the whole night since the attack was coming tomorrow. He eventually decided to sleep on his cot.

However, as he was heading toward his cot he heard the distinct sound of a diesel engine. The town was almost completely deserted, so it probably wasn't a civie. He didn't think much of it except that it was probably some military truck heading toward the Manor, probably with troops. Still, nonetheless it was his job to see what troops were going where and so he got back out of his cot and peered out the window.

The street lights on his streets where permanently green while the others where permanently red, thus garenteeing his street to be a street free of traffic as far as the Manor. The disel sound was getting louder and soon he saw what it was. A troop truck raced toward the Manor. Behind it, by about 500 meters a OPV-469i military jeep, followed by a police car, two Mercedes limos, and another troop truck also headed toward the Manor, although at a slower pace.

Vlad knew what the significance. The convoy was to evacuate the President by ground. It made sense after all, since they couldn't leave by air with Estovakian/Estovanian air supremecy. He rushed to the closet in the room and pulled out a Sa vz.58 rifle and a few magazines. He then rushed to his partner, still fast asleep in his chair.

"Miroslav! Miroslav! Wake up!" Vlad said in a quiet but hushed tone. He tugged his friend's shirt. "Come on Miroslav! Wake up!"

Miroslav gently lifted his head up and lazily rubbed his eyes.

"Come on Miroslav! There's no time!" Vlad loaded the magazine into the rifle.

Miroslav's face turned pale and he instantly shot up out of the chair and went to the closet to get his rifle. He had no idea of what was going on, but he knew sometimng was up.

"Get on the phone Miroslav! Call ENLO (ooc: ENLO= Estonavian Nationalist Liberation Organization, a partisan/milita group that is pro-allied) immediately! We need to get men down here on the double."

"What's wrong?" Miroslav asked while loading his magazine.

"Bad news. They're loading the president in a convoy and taking him out tonight."

"Damn it! Shit! How is this going to work out now?"

The plan to capture the president tommorrow with military help was foiled. The military was not close enough to support them. They'd be on their own for almost a day. Worse, Miroslav didn't know how many partisan members were able to be ready on such short notice.

He got on the phone and called ENLO headquarters.

"Yes. Yes. Get your men ready immediately. We need them down here now! The president is leaving by convoy!"

OOC: My apologies. My computer severely fucked itself, and I am currently playing catch-up, missing about seven day's worth of information and all. I'll try to get a decent IC post up today or tomorrow. Estovakia, regarding the whole Copy-Paste thing, I normally do that, and for whatever reason, I didn't that time. Yay for Murphey's Law.

OOC: My apologies. My computer severely fucked itself, and I am currently playing catch-up, missing about seven day's worth of information and all. I'll try to get a decent IC post up today or tomorrow. Estovakia, regarding the whole Copy-Paste thing, I normally do that, and for whatever reason, I didn't that time. Yay for Murphey's Law.

OOC: That's alright. Your friend Kilrany told me what was up so I knew what happened.

OOC: Ah, most excellent. Yeah, everything went to Hell in the middle of a long-duration game of Flashpoint, and I was incommunicado for five or seven days.

OOC: Ah, most excellent. Yeah, everything went to Hell in the middle of a long-duration game of Flashpoint, and I was incommunicado for five or seven days.

OOC: While you were away with technical difficulties I decided to play the CSLA 2 mod. A most excellent modifcation of Operation Flashpoint if I must say so myself. It's kind of funny, there are games with better graphics and better performance but even after 5 years I still can't stop playing OFP.

The game already takes up 6.23 GB of my 40GB hard drive and I still can't stop downloading addons. I think I am an OFP addict.

OOC: Aye, CSLA-II is pretty good, though not entirely to my tastes. I tend to prefer FDFmod, ECP v1.085e, and I've rediscovered a long-lost love in Liberation 1941-45, who recently released a patch adding a fair bit of kit. Check it out.
IC:

The sun set, throwing long shadows across the dent in the ground where a reinforced VDV Company waited. Although the rain was a veritable deluge in Karadjevo, outside the city, in this small area, some trick of wind had reduced the rain to moderate strength, and smiling and relaxed Blue Berets finished checking their weapons and securing their assault vests over their two-piece hooded rainsuits. Each man had pulled the rainsuits over his fatigues inside their L-16s, and the quality of the rainsuits was such that even standing in a shower for hours on end would not result in any leakage.

They were five kilometers from the defended village. The men of the Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol Group that was operating in the area around Karadjevo had searched the area carefully through their optics from their concealed hide, and would have a beautiful seat to watch this assault unfold. Every known Estonavian position was precisely mapped out, the target coordinates and information already radioed back to the batteries.

Those batteries were twenty kilometers behind, pulled off the advance roads, and set up in firing positions. Muzzles elevated and swung on-target, and the nearby ZIL-130 series trucks carrying their 155mm ammunition and acting as their prime movers were ready. A set of five "Grozom" rocket artillery systems were also ready to fire, their 300mm rocket tubes already angled towards the village.

The watch on O'Connor's wrist read 23.50, and his pointman signalled the halt in the darkness. The section silently passed the signal on, sinking to one knee on the damp ground, concealed in foliage. The platoon was spread out in a skirmish line that would block Estonavian retreat, and the machinegun teams, still armed with their trusty PKMs, carefully sited themselves, bedding bipods into the ground. Tripods were still in the ISCs, nearly three kilometers away, lest the vehicles be detected. O'Connor found a comfortable prone position and let his eyes drift downwards to his watch, watching the hands tick towards 24.00 before resuming the constant scanning of his arc.

Russkyan soldiers infiltrated to within three hundred meters of the Estonavian positions in the darkness. Here they would wait, for as the minute hand ticked over and indicated 24.00 Local Time, ten 155mm tubes spat fire, smoke, and high-explosive point-detonation-fuzed shells into the sky. The noise roiled, the ground rumbled, and the breeches were opened, fresh rounds shoved home, closed, then fired again. Rapid-rate fire for these weapons meant five rounds a minute, with a sustainable rate of two rounds a minute. Two minutes of rapid fire meant that the ten guns would deliver a hundred shells to the four known Estonavian positions with a high degree of accuracy. These rounds had a variety of fuzes, some were conventionally fuzed to detonate on impact, some blew apart in the air and scattered hot fragments everywheres, others penetrated into the earth or cellars/basements of selected houses before detonating and ripping the ground around them asunder in a tremendous blast.

The Estonavians were experiancing the two Gods that the Russkyan General Staff worshipped: The Infantry, and The Artillery. Highly trained gunners automatically ran through the motions, and as the second hand ticked over on the battery commander's watch, he dropped his left arm and the gunners slowed to a sustainable rate of fire, shifting their fire-point to block another route of escape that the Estonavians might have. The brutality of the rapid barrage lifted, and surviving, shocked Estonavians raised their heads above what remained of their positions to see dark shapes advancing upon them in the rain, in bounding overwatch, every man equipped with Night Optical Devices and the area lit with Infrared Searchlights that illuminated the zone clearly. Accurate rifle fire from the advancing shapes killed Estonavians, taking them in the heads, throats, chests, and toppling them to the rain-soaked ground.

Reconnaissance had reported the presence of Paratroopers. Most of these skilled warriors had been killed in the ferocity of the opening barrage, but a handful of motivated Estonavian regulars and perhaps a surviving paratrooper sent parachute flares aloft, and the return fire killed a handful of Russkyans - five, to be exact. Although, spread out across the strength of two platoons, this was hardly going to stop the attack, and as those men bled their lives out onto the ground, their comrades advanced to avenge them. Chattering PKM fire and the rolling fusilade from the Kalashnikovs kept heads down or burst them, and the Russkyan soldiers made the shattered defensive line.

O'Connor dropped into a trench, after a four hundred meter run at the Lieutenant's orders, and coming face to face with a frightened Estonavian recruit carrying a Sa-58v, reached out instinctively with the muzzle of his Kalashnikov, the bayonet-lug of the AKS-74M ripping the skin of his cheek and tearing the sensitive flesh of his ear, the stock swinging into his lower gut, and a knee coming into his groin. The Desantnik behind O'Connor fired two rounds around his arm and these 5.45x39mm slugs entered the young solider's chest, fragmenting and travelling in their characteristic "J" or "L" shape, ripping the internal organs into a bloody paste. O'Connor carried on down the trenchline, and his voice met the battle-shouts of his comrades and the eerie sound covered the battlefield amongst the deafening blasts of the 155mm shells five hundred meters away.

The Sn/LT commanding one of the three platoons now committed to the offensive took a round to the chest, the ballistic vest stopping it, but knocking him flat to the ground. His platoon radioman stepped over him, screaming a challenge from a hoarse throat, and a rain-wet blade flicked forward and was sheeted in red as an Estonavian fell sideways, sagging in the trench with his insides laid open to the sky.

Exactly fourteen and a half more minutes of combat ensued as the men swept the village clear, the L-16s moving up, the artillery ceasing fire. The Grozom systems hadn't been needed. They repacked and moved forward, moving with the rest of the Battlegroup's combat elements.

Major Iltchenko stood in his tent, feeling the pride as his men, his desantnikii cleared away the last obstacle threatening them before Karadjevo. The Black Glengarries at the tip of the spear were ready. Even the new ammunition had been issued to the GPMG gunners, perfect for urban combat. He stretched his neck, flexed the muscles of his arms and upper body, and looked out at the rain pattering down onto the ground outside the tent, the flaps of the entranceway moving in a breeze. An officer closed them fully, turning back to the radio sets and helping one of his NCOs repair a long-ranged set that had broken down.

And on the ridge overlooking the recently taken village, the soldier with the scarred face stared at the lights of Karadjevo reflecting off the clouds. The LRRPs would be moving again, and soon. Already L-16CRVs were moving to provide a screen in the direction of Estovanian forces, just incase they surged forward.

Miroslav had called Metzger after calling ENLO HQ to inform him of what was going on. As a result, his office in a captured house was abuzz with scrambling personnel answering phone calls, making phone calls, and gathering maps, intelligence reports, and faxes.

In Karadjevo, things were hectic. About two dozen men had shown up so far, which was way under the thousand-man force it was supposed to be. Needless to say, they came up with a plan. The convoy headed backed down the street. Vlad and a crowd of members talked on the sidewalk as if they were out at bars all night. Their voices varied from loud to soft. Some swayed, others staggered. The head troop transport slowed, but probably thinking they were harmless drunks, they kept on their path. After the truck passed, Vlad and others walked out into the middle of the street.

The convoy stopped rather suddenly, after almost running a few over. They quickly surrounded the military jeep, and made their way to the police car and the first Mercedes limo. The occupants within the police car and the military jeep filed out and began to use their rifle butts and truncheons to scare and beat them off.

That's when everything turned sour for the convy. The members of the "drunken crowd", who were really ENLO members, began to push and punch violently. They knocked out some of the cops by surprise and a few of the members pulled out pistols and fired at point-blank range, killing the occupants of the jeep. The bodyguards in the first limousine had rushed out of the limousine to try to help their collegues and were subsequently shot.

Unfortunately for them, they had rushed out so quickly they left the passenger doors open. Thus when the first mercedes limo tried to leave, the ENLO members rushed into the backseat and from there they fired into the driver's seat, thus stopping the vehicle. They also managed to capture the president's wife and two daughters, who were unharmed though shaken.

The rear troop truck in the meantime was assaulted simultaneously with the firing of pistols from the crowd into the policemen and MPs. A machinegunner behind a counter of a store he had broken into raked the sides of the transport starting with the front and firing into the rear with disasterous results. Any men still alive were finished off with a Molotov cocktail thrown into the rear of the truck by another member.

The only vehicle relatively unaffected was the president's limo. Wedged in between the first limo and the troop transport, the president's limo tried futilely to drive off. The problem was the president didn't want to leave the safety of the limo. Being bullet-proof and specially designed to deflect the concussion from RPGs, it was going to be difficult to get the president out. Vlad and the other ENLO members (whose numbers were gradually increasing as others arrived) knew it was only a matter of time before the limo barged its way free.

They first concentrated gunfire onto the tires. The tires were run-flats but with so many holes in the tires, the limited amount of special sealent gel used to seal the tires was useless. This slowed the limo. Next, they tried futilely to knock out the windows using bullets and rifle butts. It was going to take too long and it was only a matter of time before the lead truck (and others) to realize what was going on and come back to rescue the president. Thus, they finally came to the concensus to use Molotov cocktails on the car itself to make it too hot for the president to stay in there.

The plan worked. The bodyguards rushed out first to cover the president's retreat but by being outflanked and outgunned, they quickly fell, although they managed to kill two. That left the president. The moment his bodyguards hit the ground dead, he gave up. He wordlessly put his hands behind his head and faced his captures.

But by now, the lead troop truck had returned. Gunfire between ENLO members and troops began. More police had arrived, as well as a detachment from the Presidential Manor (also known as the Presidential Palace). More military troops, as well as ENLO members began to converge on the spot. Vlad and a few others took the president upstairs to Vlad and Miroslav's apartment. Along with his family, they would remain there as prisoners, until they were evacuated or supported by the military, or their guns were pried from their cold dead hands.

OOC: Very nice. 125th post in thread, 100th post you've made total. And quality, at that.

Although unaware of the recent activities in Karadjevo, Iltchenko and the Russkyan Battlegroup were prepared for a potentially vicious street battle. An additional battalion from the Black Glengarry Regiment was being airlifted in, but would not arrive for another two days. Iltchenko personally typed the communique to General Tate, assuming him to be the Estovakian commander in control of this particular operation.


T/ Gen. Tate and/or appropriate Staff
F/ Mjr. Iltchenko, Russkyan Battlegroup
-
Apologies for terse-sounding missive. General, Russkyan Battlegroup is prepared to enter Karadjevo on fifteen (15) minute warning. One battalion of urban combat specialists ready for immediate deployment. Please advise Battlegroup of your plans. Liasion officer (Captain Michailov) headed to your HQ with three-man staff, apologies if Michailov is unwelcome, send him back if so. Should've done this sooner. Good hunting and fair weather, General.
- Major Iltchenko, Russkyan Battlegroup.


With that sent, he turned back to the map table and went over everything he knew once more. That took a half hour, and it occured to him that despite thorough intelligence and reconnaissance preparation, he did not seem to know enough. When he subconciously ran his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, the data-link operator pulled freshly printed satellite overhead photographs from the specialized printer and laid them on the table.

Official Russkyan Military Communique

To: Gen. Tate and/or appropriate Staff
From: Mjr. Iltchenko, Russkyan Battlegroup


Official Russkyan Military Communique

--Received by Estovakian Foward Command East 01:11:17--

--Redirected to Estovakian High Command 01:11:28 Emergency Priority!--

Re: Official Russkyan Military Communique

--Received by Estovakian High Command 01:11:28 Emergency Priority!--

--Redirected to Estovakian Foward Command East 01:21:02 High Priority--

From: Estovakian High Command
To: Major Iltchenko

Sorry for the inconvenience. Due to time constraints, Estovakian High Command is unable to receive or answer foreign communiques at the moment.

Re: Re:Official Russkyan Military Communique

--Received by Estovakian Foward Command East 01:21:02 High Priority--

--Redirected to Colonel Metzger 01:24:02 Emergency Priority!--

From: Estovakian Foward Command East
To: Major Iltchenko

It seems Estovakian High Command is swamped with calls from the Cabinet, Air Force, politicians, and the executive government. I tried putting the communique on emergency priority to expediate a response from the High Command even though it is only supposed to be used for the most serious events such as a nuclear attack. Unfortunately, no such luck. I am just a Corporal who is answering this communique and I could get in huge trouble if my superiors were to find out what I'm doing, so try to keep this between you and me. I'll try to redirect you to Colonel Metzger personally.

Re: Official Russkyan Military Communique

--Intercepted by Estovakian Foward Intelligence 01:24:10 Emergency Priority!--

--Redirected to Colonel Metzger 01:24:14 Emergency Priority!--

--Received by Colonel Metzger 01:24:18 Emergency Priority!--

From: Colonel Metzger
To: Major Iltchenko, Russkyan Battlegroup

I am sorry for the inconvenience. I understand your communique has been redirected so many times. High Command is under a lot of pressure right now. Careers are at stake and nobody wants to be blamed when the (pardon my crude language) 'shit hits the fan'. They're running with crazy ideas including diversions and a full out assault immediately. They are running worst case scenarios too but of course, we don't want that to happen.

Instead I have proposed to a few of my friends at High Command yet another idea. They won't hold for very long. As we speak more and more Estonavian military troops are converging on their positions. Thus before they are annhilated I propose that they evacuate as many as possible and either make it to the Central Park which is SSW of their position or the football stadium to the NW. Each potential LZ has its issues, i.e. the football stadium is far from their position but safer to evacuate, or Central Park which is closer for them but more dangerous for us, nevermind the fact its open and thus ranged fire and crossfire from multiple direction is relatively easy to attract. One or both LZs need to be secured. Estovakian military jets will try to provide as much cover as they can (though against infantry they're going to be pretty worthless) and my Air Force friends are trying to scramble an AC-130 Spectre to provide "crowd control". Army attack helicopters are already ready.

I'm going to be brief and blunt. I am a desk jockey and not a frontline officer. I have only the slightest idea of what any option entails. I am qualified to report intelligence and to pass it on, not make intelligence and direct troops personally. I am not a field officer and I never was. Thus, if you have any opinion, suggestion, or full blown strategy, now is the time to say it. I ask for your imput.

Iltchenko blinked back confusion at the sudden shit-storm he was just getting wind of and reacted the only way he knew how when the time pressure was on. Air-assault, all the way.


To: Colonel Metzger
From: Major Iltchenko

I am a VDV soldier, and I have six fully functional Estovakian Mi-24Ds temporarily attached to my command. If you have any Mi-8s or Mi-17s and the pilots for them, these aircraft are capable of sustaining incredible amounts of damage and remaining airworthy.

Grozom batteries are within range of Central Park. Smoke munitions may be deployed at extended range to cover egress from this LZ, Russkyan VDV can guide ENLO personnel into the LZ. Two Mi-24s in first, four flying cover, evacuate mission-critical personnel first. One platoon VDV to provide LZ security.

Will immediately prepare to deploy.
- Mjr. Iltchenko.

To: Colonel Metzger
From: Major Iltchenko

I am a VDV soldier, and I have six fully functional Estovakian Mi-24Ds temporarily attached to my command. If you have any Mi-8s or Mi-17s and the pilots for them, these aircraft are capable of sustaining incredible amounts of damage and remaining airworthy.

Grozom batteries are within range of Central Park. Smoke munitions may be deployed at extended range to cover egress from this LZ, Russkyan VDV can guide ENLO personnel into the LZ. Two Mi-24s in first, four flying cover, evacuate mission-critical personnel first. One platoon VDV to provide LZ security.

Will immediately prepare to deploy.
- Mjr. Iltchenko.

Received by Colonel Metzger 01:31:03

Re: Official Russkyan Military Communique

From: Colonel Metzger
To: Major Iltchenko, Russkyan Battlegroup

Any Mi-24s, Mi-8s, or Mi-17s would be captured Estonavian surplus. Estovakia uses NATO weapons, which includes aircraft, AFVs, APCs, etc or our own indiginous vehicles and weapons. It helps keep our supply warehouses streamlined. Otherwise, we'd have a hodgepodge of spare parts. Estonavia as well as Estovania use Warsaw-pact or ex-Soviet vehicles so if you happen to have captured ones when we overran airfields going east into Estonavia, they're yours. The only reason we had Hinds in our inventory was because some were captured in border raids with Estovania or bought for evaluation purposes.

We've probably captured a few, but I have no idea where they are or what condition they are in. We already have attack helicopters ready, so if you need, we can support you. In any case, it is extremely dangerous. We've taken out their main AA defenses, but intelligence reports that in the FY1996, Estonavia bought substantial amounts of Stinger launchers. Reports indicate they are mostly located in and around Karadjevo which was why we don't regularly allow helicopter transport flights.

That's why the mission is difficult and almost suicidal. High Command is running worst case scenarios right now. No one has much hope right now. My plan, and so far the best working plan the Estovakians have come up with so far, is something similar to the American Operation Desert Claw. And we know how that turned out.

-

To: Col. Metzger, Estovakian Intelligence and Signals Corps
From: Mjr. Iltchenko, Russkyan Battlegroup

I see. The Mi-24Ds were attached to my command with Estovakian flightcrews, I assumed some 'EastBloc' equipment was still fielded.

My battalion remains ready to assault Karadjevo. If allowed by geography, the Black Glengarry Bn. could attack the city, and drive towards the ENLO irregulars. While they may not make the objective and exfiltrate them via ground, they would draw Estonavian attentions to themselves. This would then allow them to partake of the defensive style of street fighting for which they are so well suited. VDV Bns remain ready to support such an offensive.

ENLO forces could be reinforced by helicopter deployed VDV troops, which may allow them to evacuate to a more secure LZ where the NATO troop-ships may be able to evacuate them.
- Iltchenko.

Received by Colonel Metzger 01:37:11

Re: Official Russkyan Military Communique

Time is limited. I must admit there is no time for me to even suggest anything more. I trust your judgment and I trust that you will succeed. If you need support, just say what and where and I'll try to give it to you.

The Battalion Commander for the Black Glengarries was forward, with his men, at his BnHQ. The sun was down, the moon was up, and it was 01.45 Local Time. Iltchenko turned to the remaining commanders, including the pilots and flight-crew of all six Mi-24Ds under his command, and the VDV commanders who would go into battle soon.

They were gathered in 'bunkered' tent, not the command tent with its radios and myriads of background activity, but a simple tent with a dozen and a half wooden chairs procured from a nearby village, a large map-board, and a small wooden podium designed to hold the map-board in clear view to all assembled. It was beside this board that Major Iltchenko stood, his OTs-33 holstered on one hip.

"I know this is not what we're trained for, precisely. But you can pull it off, I am sure. I will get you any kind of indirect fire you need, and Colonel Metzger tells me that he will try to get us anything we need. Can't count on anything, it sounds like the Estovakians are going nuts, but they've pulled through in the past, should be fine this time. As you can see, all of Karadjevo is within range of the Grozom batteries. And we all know what those can do. Most of it is within precise-fire range for the one-fifty-fives as well."

He tapped the board, where a red pin was driven through the map into the cork backing. That pin stood near a green one.

"This is where the ENLO partisans are holed up. The green pin is the landing zone. Not far, but it has the potential to become a meat grinder. We can't put you in any further away, you might get bogged down. Senior Lieutenant Karsov, what is your objective?"

The Sn/LT stood from his chair at attention and repeated his assigned objectives;

"I will land on the LZ with my men. We will move towards ENLO partisan forces, achieve linkup, and assist them in defending the area. I will attempt to fortify our position and follow known urban combat procedure until relieved by Black Glengarries, sir."

"Good man. What do you have for fire-support?"

"Everything we can get but the hands of the Gods, sir."

"Heh. Very good, Lieutenant. At ease. Flight Captain!"

The Estovakian pilots had been brevetted with equivalent Russkyan rank while they were temporarily attached to the Russkyan Battlegroup. Olive-Drab brassards with the Army Aviation insignias had been issued to those who would accept them. The man stood from his chair.

"Your objective?"

"Insert the VDV and provide close air support in support of their advance and defensive efforts, Major!"

"Good man. Tell me what you're going to do when you are notified of friendly incoming artillery."

"We would leave to the Forward Arming and Refueling Point, rearm and refuel, then return on-station, Major."

"Very good."

The wrapping-up of the briefing continued as such. At 01.50, a platoon of battle-ready VDV boarded the Mi-24s. The RPG-7Vs had been provided with a higher number of OG-7V and TBG-7V grenades. Iltchenko radioed the BNCOM, and in the darkness of the night the Infantry Section Carriers rolled forward carrying their loads of grease-sticked and battle-ready combat Infantrymen.

--

02.12 Local Time.

A thin skim of cloud passed between the moon and the Mi-24s that banked into the landing zone. It was hard to miss it, the FLIR showed the flare that had been landed there via Grozom rocket, marking it clearly and making the smoke-scren that blanketed the area glow demonically. The Estovakian pilots, in a challenging feat of flying, landed their helicopters in graceful arcs from the sky to the ground, and were on the ground for less than five seconds as the loads of VDV piled out the twin doors, boots landing heavily on the steel of the bottom door as it formed the ramp leading to the ground. And then the Mi-24Ds were gone.

The smoke slowly filled back into the large circle that had been cleared in it by the rotor-wash of the helicopter blades. Formed in their battle formations, fingers tense on triggers, one VDV saw Sn/LT Karsov check his compass and wave the platoon forward in one direction, where desultory rifle shots sounded, echoing down the street. The [i]desantnikii[/] penetrated the bank of man-made fog and found no opposition. That would probably change - had they landed earlier than two in the morning, there might have been a guard on this zone. As it stood, all of the Estonavians fighting the ENLO were likely in a peremiter around those positions.

--

A quartet of L-16ISCs passed a house set aflame by 35mm automatic cannon fire. Inside, corpses smoldered, their rifle ammunition cooked off. The Black Glengarries had come to Karadjevo, and had punched through the sub-urbs in record time.

It was night, they were Russkyan Infantry, and now they were doing what they had been trained to do all their professional careers. Ahead of them, 300mm Grozom rockets arced into the ground, trailing flame behind them as the range was just under half of what the systems could achieve, and the ground shook underneath the wheeled IFVs. One of the powerful rockets in that salvo landed next to a suburban house, and there was little more left on that side of the crater than the side of the foundation furthest away from the point where the warhead had struck the ground.

A VDV Bn would support the Black Glengarries in their dagger-thrust into Karadjevo. At the point of the triangular-shaped penetration, angled towards the ENLO peremiter, the Estonavian resistance was stiffening.

--

Iltchenko, recieving these reports and standing back in the command tent, theorized that the Estonavians had been caught off-guard by the speed of the Russkyan advance and were now beginning to react to the threat. As to the reacting Estonavians, their resolve and capability would now be tested.

It was a truly desparate situation. Miroslav stayed hidden with the president and his family in the tiny, windowless kitchenette of the apartment. By this point the telephone lines and electricity was cut to the building, resulting in a totally blackened and cut-off building, the only light coming from intense spotlights that were shown through the building to disorient and blind and the occasional emergency light in the hallways. The room he was in previously was demolished after the above floor caved in; it seemed that the arrival of friendly forces, whomever they may be, made the Estonavians desparate. They no longer took caution; apparently they abandoned their attempt to rescue the president and decided instead to eliminate all the occupants. They decided perhaps that having the president dead was better then taking the risk that he be evacuated.

Not that they weren't fighting any harder than they did before. The Estonavian commander, in his wisdom, knew that there was more of them then Miroslav, Vlad, and the others had bullets. The Estonavians were not afraid to storm the building. Their first three attempts failed but on their forth try, they managed to take the bottom floor and were working their way up.

ENLO casualities so far were pitifully high with only six out of thirty left uninjured. Eight were dead, at least the last time he checked, which was a good fifteen minutes ago, and Miroslav hadn't seen Vlad in half an hour. The Estonavians outside used RPG rounds to demolish rooms and windows and snipers with NV tried to pick off anybody and thus the remaining fighters stuck to the hallways. Ammunition was low, if not used up, and the remainders used fire axes, hoses, and extinguishers (used to bludgeon), hastily-made Molotov cocktails, knives, and pipes in vicious hand-to-hand combat. The only real gunfire came from ENLO members outside the building and Estonavian peremeter that had arrived after the whole ordeal began.

Estovakian special forces under Colonel Zeitel, which had infiltrated the capital earlier in the week, tried to break through but knew they wouldn't break through in time and therefore tried to make the way for Russkyan reinforcements easier. The Estonavian commander, whomever it was, was actually competant, which was a surprise, and had stationed snipers, machine gunners, and RPG groups cunningly in areas likely to be infiltrated during the next few days. He not only positioned the men in postions facing toward the likely areas of attacking forces but away as well, so as to be able to hit the forces from the rear as they pass.

Throughout the city, small pockets of Estonavians guarded strategic chokepoints, took advantagous positions, and utilized lcoal resources from petrol stations to grocery stores and gunsmiths to suppliment whatever resources they already had. Stinger launchers and the men needed to use them were spread out amongst the buildings and could strike without warning. Miroslav had found out about all of this during the last week or so in the capital, and would have radioed his final verdict on the defensive capabilities had his radio not been buried under loads of brick, plaster, wooden beams, and various debris from the floor above.

Miroslav looked at the family huddled together on the floor. A sudden rumbling shook the kitchenette violently and flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling. Pots in a cabinet overhead rained down on the family and the president covered them with his self to shield them from the blows. Miroslav hugged the corner of the room with his back against the wall so as to avoid falling projectiles and kept carefuly watch should the family take advantage of the moment and try to escape. He then heard the creaking of footsteps outside the apartment door. Miroslav readied his Sa 58v and leveled it towards the door.

The door flew open. "Miroslav don't shoot, don't shoot!"

Miroslav knew from the voice it was Vlad. It was only from the voice he knew it was Vlad. In the glow from a fire burning down the hallway he could see what had become of Vlad. He was completely covered in white plaster dust, so much so you wouldn't have guessed he wore a black leather jacket. His forehead was caked with a mixture of plaster and sweat and his left check bore a gash that dribbled blood down the rest of his face. His left sleeve was in tatters, and his dark blue jeans had various rips and holes. When he took a step into the room he had a noticeable limp that was bad enough that Vlad had to hold on to the door frame to keep from falling over. His pistol hung limply from his right hand as if he were dead and it was through Vlad that Miroslav truly knew how desparate the situation had become.

"Come on. We have to move to the next floor. They're here."

The president and his family instinctively got up. Miroslav prodded them with his Sa-58v while Vlad stepped out into the hallway and ushered the family to the left, using his body to shield the family from the scene of newly dead bodies. A few evacuating, straggling ENLO members in the hallway followed close behind the family and then Vlad brought up the rear.

"I need something Vlad!" Miroslav turned around and handed back down the hallway. He gave his rifle to Vlad.

"Don't wait up."

Miroslav ran through the open door in the apartment. He felt his way quickly to a drawer and pulled out a steak knife and put it in under his belt. He made his way to the bedroom where the ceiling had collapsed and debris blocked his path just in front of the closet. He found a wooden beam and wedged off a piece of heavy plaster from the debris pile away from the closet. He then used the wooden beam to break through the jammed closet doors and pulled out a heavy box. He opened it and pulled out a shotgun which he loaded with scattered shells in the box. He threw the box away hurriedly and picked up three smaller boxes which each contained a claymore. He stuffed them under his right arm and grabbed the shotgun under his left and ran out.

He bolted down the hallway but just before he reached the end shots rang out behind him. He flung himself to the ground, the packages of claymores flying in front of him. He was surprised to hear gun fire answer back and in the temporary lull in gunfire, quickly gathered the claymores and flung open one of the fire doors to the stairway. Inside he noticed an ENLO member, bearded, with some sort of khaki clothing- he couldn't tell in the miniscule light- with a bandaged eye and a gun wound to the left shoulder and another to the chest, which he pressed in with his left hand. He was propped up in a chair facing down the hallway holding the gun with the palm with his right hand, awkwardly while using a bloodied middle finger to use the trigger. The gun was propped up through a broken window in the door but it was with great awkwardness that he fired the gun.

"Whoever you are, you best get goin'," the man said in a gruff voice. "I don't think I'll last much longer." Wordlessly, Miroslav gathered up his things and hurried up the stairs. Gunfire broke out again, and Miroslav saw the man fall out of his chair.

"Go now!" the man yelled to Miroslav. Miroslav rushed to the landing and yanked himself up the other stairs. He heard what sounded like a pin drop and as he reached the fire doors on the next floor a loud explosion eminated from the bottom. Miroslav yanked open the fire door only to find Vlad standing right inside with his rifle.

"Glad you can make it," Vlad said with a weak smile. "You can join our little club."

Vlad tossed Miroslav a flashlight. Vlad took a step back and Miroslav turned on the flashlight. With the emergency lights and the flashlight, Miroslav made out the remnants of the group. Besides Vlad, the only people left were five ENLO members. Only one wasn't injured; the other three had varying degrees of injures but could still hold a gun. The last ENLO member was on a makeshift stretcher, clutching a small cross, muttering inaudible somethings.

Vlad whispered softly. "His not going to make it. He's already dead. Mortal wound."

Miroslav then moved his flashlight over the president and his family and then over a group of people, about 14 or so, of varying ages.

Vlad narrarated. "The remaining occupants of the apartment. Most moved out from the fear of the imminent invasion by us. The rest were killed tonight. These are all that are left. The 60-year over there tried escaping with her husband. He's dead now. The Estonavian orders are to wipe out everyone to the last man, woman, or child. Those two cute women over there that we would have tried to get their phone numbers from if they weren't already married to Estonavian soldiers, got no special treatment either. For all we know, one of those men out there are one of their husbands. This is our end, unless somehow reinforcements have arrived."

An ENLO member interjected. "We aren't trained men. Only a few of us ever saw military service. Some never even touched a gun before tonight. We never could have held for long."

Vlad then interupted. "They are on the floor above us, and on the floor below us. The eastern stair case is extensively blockaded and the fire escape was destroyed in the fighting early. That means the only way in or out is through those doors you just came through. If we can't make it out, we have to make sure nobody could make it in. Because if that happens, nobody makes it out, civilian or otherwise. Time is the only thing standing in between them and us. And time is on their side."

Senior Lieutenant Karsov and his desantnikii had already engaged and knocked out a multitude of Estonavian positions. The LZ was fortunately close to the objective, but they'd still lost six men, dead. Thankfully no-one was seriously wounded, although ten sported light wounds. Karsov himself was wounded, a horizontal line that traced across his upper left arm, a shallow cut from a 7.62x39mm round that had blasted through the door he was about to kick open. The force of it has thrown him on his ass, and that was the only reason he wasn't dead, as the other rounds blew through the door where his chest and head had been moments before. The platoon medic had bandaged it and he still had full use of his arm. If he was lucky, it wouldn't scar too horribly and the women back in his home-town of Krasnograd would be happy with it. More than once they'd seen Stinger missiles streak skywards, often hitting flares, once hitting a Mi-24D that had needed to break off their mission of suppressing and pounding the Estonavians in order to put down in a safe area, as one engine had been disabled.

The Estonavian line encircling the building was under fire now. TBG-7Vs were used to obliterate lighter structures and the occupants of the ones that were capable of withstanding the force of the blast. Machineguns and automatic rifles, PKMs and RPK-74Ms, kept Estonavian heads down, and VDV rushed across the short gaps between buildings, sweeping the bottom floor and the one immediately above it. It was dark, but for the search-lights, muzzle flashes, and fires. Power seemed to have been cut, but that was probably for the best.

Karsov crouched behind a corner. Down the hall, a four kilogram charge had been attached to the wall. This technique was called "Mouse-holing," and it would be effective enough. The section across the opening from Karsov stood ready, ballistic goggles down to protect their eyes from any flying debris and the dust. One soldier reached back to check the fitting of his fighting knife in its sheath, making sure it wasn't too loose, wasn't too snug. Satisfied, his left hand returned to the fore-stock of his AKS-74M.

And then a resounding boom, the building shook, and dust flew down the hallway on a roiling torrent of hot air. The section headed out the new 'door,' and crouched near a window, throwing smoke canisters to both sides to try and mask them from the Estonavians. A spotlight lit the grey smoke of one canister eerily, rounds snapped through, and the Russkyans hugged the ground, holding their fire. Two men broke down the somehow-intact window, climbed through, and kicked out the door of the room they'd climbed into, sweeping the hallway. They knelt outside the door of the room they'd cleared, facing down the hall in opposite directions as a section-mate affixed a shaped charge to the area just below the window-frame. He rolled away, detonating the charge, and the noise was clearly audible. The room was filled with debris, and the new door had been created.

Karsov then waved the rest of the platoon through, charging across the intervening gap to the building in which the ENLO fighters were battling to their deaths in. A section was posted to the entrance they'd created and the area immediately around it. And the rest of the platoon stormed the building. Fierce fighting on the ground floor allowed them to secure all of the entrances, booby-trapping them with claymores. An OG-7V round fired up a stairwell literally burnt the back of the pant-legs (and most of his leg hair, coincidentally) off a desantnik from the back-blast, and the medic checked him over, proclaimed him 'Good to go!', and he continued his battle with the tatters of his fatigue trousers flapping about his legs.

The ground floor was cleared with brutal casualties. Four more dead Russkyans littered the ground, two severely wounded, and now every man but twelve from the platoon's strength were wounded in some way. A section gathered near the bottom of the fire-stairs. They piled up the stairs quickly, boots thumping on the steps. A door was kicked open, an Estonavian fell to the ground in a burst of fire, and yet another floor was swept clear. Another section stormed up the stairwell to the top, hoping to sweep the top floor clear - and the 12.7x108mm slugs of a Mi-24D sweeping the roof and top-roof windows clear before the "woosh" of the flare system trying to distract another Stinger missile could be heard. Then the helicopters left.

And then the sighing could be heard. That peculiar sigh of incoming artillery rounds. Those slammed into the ground and surrounding buildings, the Russkyan gunners demonstrating their expertise. And then the scream of 300mm artillery rockets. They didn't normally scream. Just the ones affixed with the same kind of siren that had been used on the "Stuka" dive-bombers of Nazi Germany. These shrieking rockets blew tremendous craters into the ground, pulverized buildings, seemed to shake the entire city. More dust and plaster fell from the roof and walls, and Russkyan troops were now forced to scream "Russkyan Soldiers" when kicking in doors in the event that any surviving ENLO men mistook their dust-bleached-grey uniforms for those of Estonavians.

The platoon lost five more men. For a single platoon, this was not a good thing. The survivors carefully, very carefully swept the final floor. One understrength section came down from the top level, and the rest came up from below, abandoning the entranceway they'd made. They still retained plenty of high explosives, grenades, and ammunition, especially. With them, the medic, and perhaps most importantly, the man-pack high-power long-range radio survived.

Karsov personally forced the second-last door open, the muzzle of his Kalashnikov spitting flame and death. From his throat and the throats of his platoon-mates rose the characteristic "Ourrah," echoing through the building in the lull of noise that resulted after the artillery fire-missions ceased, before the helicopters returned, and before any surviving Estonavians were able to regroup and make their fire felt.

Three Estonavians toppled to the ground, dead or severely wounded. In this fight, there was no room for quarter, and the severely wounded Estonavian was left to die on the floor, having had his weapons stripped from him. One of the section leaders booted the final door open, the scream of "Russkyan Soldiers!" on his lips, and dropped to a crouch just inside and to one side of the doorway.

Three Estonavians toppled to the ground, dead or severely wounded. In this fight, there was no room for quarter, and the severely wounded Estonavian was left to die on the floor, having had his weapons stripped from him. One of the section leaders booted the final door open, the scream of "Russkyan Soldiers!" on his lips, and dropped to a crouch just inside and to one side of the doorway.

OOC: Am I to assume by final door, you mean the floor the survivors reside on?

There are four floors: the bottom floor, the first floor, second floor (where the survivors are), and the the third floor or the top floor. You took out the bottom and the top floor. Then you swept the "final floor" which I assume to be the final floor that is Estonavians-occupied. Therefore I must ask, before I continue posting, am I correct in my assumption that the final door is the second floor?

OOC: Yeah, I was incredibly rushed in both reading and responding to that post. My assumption was that I would not be able to view this thread for the next two days, this thankfully proved incorrect. If I were to re-write that so it were more clear, one would be led to understand that the ground floor was swept clear so the platoon had a "FUP," of sorts, and that the fire-stairs were used to lead directly to the top (Fourth) floor, then the third was cleared from the top-down and bottom-up.

The operating premise here is that the ENLO have achieved linkup with an understrength VDV platoon belonging to Senior Lieutenant Karsov.

Goran Ivanjušević was Serbian. He was from Belgrade, stood five feet eight inches tall. Heavily tanned and wiry, with a shaved head and the propensity to quickly grow a thick black beard in the space of two days, his platoon-mates referred to him as "The Serb."

Right now the Serb crouched next to Sn/LT Karsov, the heavy long-range radio by his legs. He held the handset to the side of his head, holding down the transmit key, directing a pair of the Estovakian-loaned Mi-24Ds that were currently pummelling an Estonavian position with rockets and heavy machinegun fire. Compared to an automatic cannon of 20mm or greater, commonly 23mm or 30mm on Russo-Soviet designed vehicles, the 12.7x108mm cartridge wasn't amazingly powerful. But that's not to say that it wasn't a powerful cartridge in and of itself - and it blasted through walls, roofs, doors, Estonavians, and other obstructions without tremendous difficulty. The thicker walls were effectively HMG-proof, but there were precious few of them remaining.

ENLO Partisans and their charges, as well as the now-depleted VDV Platoon, eagerly awaited the arrival of the Black Glengarries. Recently, a fresh battalion had arrived, spent a day re-checking their equipment and acclimatizing, and were now en-route to Karadjevo. The sub-urbs were almost completely penetrated, the distinctive close-quarters combat nature of the Glengarry's training paying off. They battled their way forward, blasting holes where they needed doors, and where needed annhilating structures and their occupants with thermobarics.

Ivanjušević glanced out a window. It was day, there was smoke and dust floating around outside, but the air inside the building was clear. Laid together, their battle gear and weapons distributed amongst the ENLO partisans, the dead Russkyans rested, rigor mortis having subsided. There was no time for honours, those would come after the battle. The Black Glengarries too, were taking casualties, but being dedicated to this sort of work as they were, the damage they inflicted was much greater than what they sustained.

OOC: i hate to say this, I really do, but I'm going to be on vacation until September the 7th.

It was, unfortunately, the only time I had free from here to infinity:( .

I hope you had a good time though. nice to here from you again.

OOC:
Elaborate a bit more? On vaction until September 7 after which the RP will resume, or shutting down the RP? Your wording has me slightly confused.

If you're referring to my recent vacation that wasn't mentioned OOC'ly here, yes. It was a... decent vacation. The 20 hours in a car didn't help its case any - twenty hours to get there, twenty hours to drive back. I don't understand why a plane wasn't an option.

Good to hear from you too.

It was easy to requip the ENLO members inside the building with weapons. There was only one left, a frightened youngster, not yet an adult, that had hid with the rest of the civilians.

The rest had died in the fighting. The Russkyans were fast, but the Estonavians had been faster. They had overwhelmed the defenses on the final floor. If the Russkyans had known to look for them, they may have noticed Vlad's body behind a heavy oak table used as a shield against bullets. Or Miroslav's body slumped against a door.

But now they were casualties of war. Lifeless bodies amongst limitless blood pools, bullet casings, ash, plaster chips, and broken glass. The President and his family were safe but would need to be evacuated. Light mortars and medium morats were taking a toll on the building and it was no longer safe. Estonavians hugged wreckage and debris and fired back on the helicopter overhead and the ground attack aircraft with machine guns and assault rifles.

Stinger teams already downed two helicopters, an Estovakian gunship (not one of the Hinds) and an Estovakian transport helicopter trying to carry supplies. The survivors had been killed, strangely not by Estonavian soldiers, but by ordinary housewives and women mad at the loss of their loved ones.

Guerilla forces frustrated resupply attempts, and uncharacteristically brave Estonavians, on the contrary to past experiences where Estonavian morale got worse and worse, chose to fight stubbornly rather then desert. Lieutenant General Weiss realized that the Russkyans were overexposed and vulnerable to encirclement and that supply lines were vulnerable and tenuous. He ordered a full scale assault to try to relieve pressure. Aware that either a severe Russkyan casualty list or the death of the Estonavian president meant political oblivion, as well as severe repercussions amongst the military brass, Weiss had no intention of letting the Russkyans "tough it out". Of course to Colonel Metzger, either failure didn't mean political oblivion but death, and thus he tried to help them as much as possible.

Grouped and ready ENLO members within the city were ordered by Metzger to attack and disrupt reinforcing Estonavian elements.

OOC:
Elaborate a bit more? On vaction until September 7 after which the RP will resume, or shutting down the RP? Your wording has me slightly confused.

If you're referring to my recent vacation that wasn't mentioned OOC'ly here, yes. It was a... decent vacation. The 20 hours in a car didn't help its case any - twenty hours to get there, twenty hours to drive back. I don't understand why a plane wasn't an option.

Good to hear from you too.

No, the RP won't be shut down.

As an itinerary though I can give you a basic road map of what to expect.

The fighting will end once Karadjevo is captured. (Can't go further east because the Estovanians are already there).

After that, there will probably be negociations between all parties involved.

Major Iltchenko was now running on precisely three and a quarter hour's worth of sleep. That, and about five litres of coffee. Neither could be healthy in the long run, but it was far less healthy for his men out on the sharp end. The Headquarters element would never fail the shooters, not while Iltchenko was in command.

Already HINDs had limped back sporting rather severe damage. One was inoperable, and it amazed Iltchenko, a veteran of Sorachoak, what kind of damage a Mi-24 could sustain and yet still bring its crew back. Sn/LT Karsov was badly wounded, and Iltchenko had recently talked with the radio operator himself, as the second in command was catching a quick bit of well-deserved sleep in one of the lulls in the fighting. The building they had secured, that was being steadily pounded to rubble, was apparently bloodier than Hell's Halfway Point.

Though the computerized command and control systems could more than perform the task themselves, Iltchenko still preferred to have markers on a map laid out infront of him. And now, those markers, denoting both the Black Glengarries, Karsov's platoon, and known enemies, painted a disturbing picture - the Glengarries were only a kilometer and a half from being able to relieve Karsov, but that was assuming they could all fly, and somehow be impervious to AAA. The route that the city of Karadjevo presented them meant that it would be at least three days, maybe more, before they could be relieved. But the VDV could hang on that long. Maybe there'd be little of them left - but not if the God of the Russkyan War Machine, the ever-present Artillery, had anything to say about it. Iltchenko could see the flashes on the horizon at night as the guns fired practically non stop, and the fearsome Grozom launchers streaked the sky with smoke, fire, and death, riding 300mm rockets.

The two Battalions fighting their way forward in Karadjevo had an exposed flank. A Bn of VDV were deployed to secure this flank. Increased guerilla activity and stiffening Estonavian resistance would mean extra security would be needed on the supply convoys. Iltchenko wired the immediate situation to the Politburo at 15.35:29 local time, keeping with his standing order of keeping the senior commanders appraised of the situation - although a mere Major, he was a more than able leader, the man with the most experiance in the Stovakian Peninsula, and all of his sub-unit commanders were of quality too: more and more units were finding themselves entrusted to this young, upcoming Major as time went on. Perhaps another battalion, maybe even a Brigade would be deployed, and more artillery was en-route. Rocket artillery - the good stuff.

--

Two sections of the Black Glengarry Regiment waited in a bullet-scarred and shell-damaged house. The rest of the Company was arrayed around them, but this unit was next to move - it was regrouped from the platoon that had been shattered in urban fighting. Each man was now, in addition to his intensive training, sporting a measure of combat experiance that would have left lesser men psychological wrecks. A weak-looking NCO with pale skin glanced down the street, the long tassels of his glengarry tucked into his collar. His helmet hung from his assault vest. Often, the Glengarries had been reprimanded for not wearing their helmets, going into combat in their distinctive head-dress. Surprisingly few casualties had resulted from this practice.

He held up his right hand for silence, ears straining. The section behind him went silent, passed the silent command on to the next section. They too stopped their quiet idle chatter, and tensed up behind their weapons; a scrap of song floated down the oddly quiet street. Battle in Karadjevo had been temporarily suspended. The high noon sun beat down on the streets.

The song continued for a few notes. Then it was taken up by more voices. The Platoon Designated Marksman tucked his SVD-K rifle into his shoulder and looked down the PSOP-1 optic, scanning the houses, the other buildings.

"What do you think that is?"
"You think I know, Connor? I don't speak Estonavian."
"Hey, Mikhail. You understand any of that?"
"Yeah. I think that's their national anthem."

More voices added to the refrain. They stopped, seemingly having sung themselves out for the day. The Russkyans exchanged glances. Not that they weren't familiar with the concept of soldiers singing, infact a few of them carried issue songbooks, filled with age-old soldier's songs, including those sung by the Russko-German Corps.

A spot of movement, the marksman zeroed in on it instantly. His finger caressed the trigger, and another man moved. The rifle shouted its report, the 9.3mm round leapt free of the 64mm cartridge, spiralled down the barrel, and blew its bloody path through the Estonavian's dirty Gymnastorika. A Dona Goaithe GPMG opened fire, the specialized ammunition punching a line of holes in a wall, a scream was heard. A moving shape was engaged with a short burst, that gunner was busy today. It fell to the ground, an arm hanging on by a scrap of flesh, the corpse sporting a smashed and gore-leaking chest.

--

Ivanjušević moved in the characteristic low crouch-run peculiar to combat-experianced soldiers, carrying his radio with him. He stopped by a mound of bodies, those of ENLO partisans, stacked like cordwood next to the similarily stacked Russkyan corpses. One twitched in rigor mortis, and he laid his hand on the chest of the body, quietly whispering for the man to stay still, though the long-dead ears would hear no sound. Ivanjušević carried on, bringing the radio to Karsov's side, just as a soldier called out the coordinates of another Estonavian push on the building.

Without stopping, Goran stepped over Karsov, who lifted his AKS-74M rifle to cover the doorway, propped against the wall as he was it was about all he could do, one leg swathed in field dressings and with a bloody gash torn across his upper chest from a mortar shell splinter, a fortunately shallow wound. Ivanjušević didn't need to lift the radio's handset to his lips, he instead had plugged his headset into the radio and spoke directly into the boom microphone, relaying coordinates. Within forty seconds, 300mm artillery rockets arched down, shattering Estonavians, pavement, tearing holes in the ground, shifting rubble, and shaking the ground underneath the VDV and ENLO men. The surviving Russkyans shouted their defiance, fierce adrenaline-filled battle-screams, with the Estonavians responding with a ragged volley of automatic fire.

--

"What the Fuck was that?"
"No idea. Quiet again."

The Master Corporal nodded assentment, relaxing his left hand's grip on the foregrip of the MBRS rifle he carried just slightly. The Estonavians hadn't tried moving again, and silence had descended once more.

"Let's give them a song."

The two sections in the building began singing, an old song many of them knew, singing in their Gaelic tongue.

"Is dathúil breá
Do chruacha scéimchruth
A Chomaraigh aoibhinn ó
Nuair a lasaid suas
Le hamharc gréine
A Chomaraigh aoibhinn ó
Na faillte 's leacain
Ar gach taobh diot
Mar bhrata sróil
Le seolta gleásta
Nuair a scaipeann an drúcht
Anuas ón spéir ort
A Chomaraigh aoibhinn ó"

The song drifted, the single verse. The Estonavians responded to the haunting, homesick song with a more energenic one of their own, and the MCpl grinned.

"Right lads. The Tavern Keeper's Daughter, on my mark. Two, Three, Mark!"

The Russkyans sang their lusty ballad about the tavern keeper's daughter in Gaelic, then again in Russkyan, just so one of the Estonavians might have a chance of understanding it - Russkyan was a blending of Russian and Ukrainian, similiar to both languages in many ways. One of the Estonavians must have picked up some Russian somewheres, and he understood enough to tell his nearest comrades, who laughed. At the songs end, the Black Glengarries could hear the laughter of their enemies.

The Estonavians began a song of their own, and a new sound was added to the strange interval in the fighting. A softer voice, no less loud, but not male - did they have one of the local females singing for them? It seemed so! Connor looked up at his NCO.

"Please boss? They've got a woman singing with them now, we might lose this."

The NCO rolled his eyes and rubbed his upper arm, assauging an ache picked up earlier in the day, right hand never leaving the pistol grip of his MBRS rifle.

"Aye. Go ahead, Connor."

Connor's face lit up and he pulled from the dusty breast pocket of his battledress jacket a harmonica. He began to play, quite well, after a few discordant notes. A machinegunner glanced across at the grenadier a few meters from him.

"There you go, mate. We're winning now - the Estonavians don't have a harmonica."

There was silence, at the end of the Glengarry's song. Then a single rifle shot, and then more fire as the engagement picked up again. Connor tucked his harmonica away and sighed. God forbid they decide who kept the city in some civilized fashion, like a drunken bar brawl, something the Glengarries weren't unfamiliar with themselves - but only when the General Staff wasn't looking, of course. A T-03 Underbarrel Grenade Launcher 'thumped,' and a explosion blasted glass from a window that up until now, had somehow managed to retain it. Artillery rockets sighed by overhead, and obliterated a half-block of houses and all those in them. The Russkyan concern was now not for the Estonavian civilians - they had been given plenty of time and warning to leave Karadjevo before the Russkyans arrived.

Every man knew that for the next three days, perhaps the week, maybe longer, there would be little more to concern oneself with than simple survival in Karadjevo.

OOC: I'm back. It was a rather uneventful trip. i should be ablw to post tomorrow as right now I'm playing "catch-up".

The Russkyans sang their lusty ballad about the tavern keeper's daughter in Gaelic, then again in Russkyan, just so one of the Estonavians might have a chance of understanding it - Russkyan was a blending of Russian and Ukrainian, similiar to both languages in many ways. One of the Estonavians must have picked up some Russian somewheres, and he understood enough to tell his nearest comrades, who laughed. At the songs end, the Black Glengarries could hear the laughter of their enemies.


OOC: Estonavian, which is similar to Estovanian (it is also similar to Estovakian but less so), is a blend of Western Slavic (Czech, Slovak, and Polish) and Southern Slavic (Serbo-Croatian, Slovene) languages (with a slant more toward Western Slavic) and a few minor differences and regionalisms. They might not understand what you write, but they should be able to understand what you say for the most part (obviously there are going to be a few differences).

Not that you care, or is even relavent to the above paragraph, Estovakian is also a blend of Western Slavic and Southern Slavic languages with a slant more toward Southern Slavic and with its own regionalisms, idioms, and differences. Native Estovakians should also be able to get the gist or the idea of what any Russkyan says as well. However, not all Estovakians can speak Estovakian since there has been an extremely large amount of immigration in the last thirty years,.English is used heavily second language and many first-generation or second-generations can only speak English fluently.

While I understand Western and Southern Slavic is different from Eastern Slavic, there are people that I know that know Western Slavic and can understand spoken Southern Slavic and Eastern Slavic because the Slavic languages are somewhat similar.

IC:

Estovakian Air Force ground attack aircraft and bombers swiftly dove down upon Estonavian defenders, causing havoc and chaos. Estovakian casualties climbed dramatically trying to relieve pressure on the Russkyans (ooc: after all, the Russkyan battalion is in the dead center of the city and the most heavily defended) and the Estonavians, sandwiched in between the approaching Estovanians (which have already entered the city) and allied forces, began to fight dangerously and with strong ferocity.

Estonavian light and medium mortars pounded the Russkyans and kept moving their positions to make it difficult to triangulate the source. The Estonavians countered Russkyan artillery with smoke grenades and generators to frustrate Russkyan Foward Observers and limit Russkyan Line of Sight, and raided police stocks and equipment for tear gas canisters and tear gas grenades, which they launched at the Russkyan battalion before assaulting. Estonavian support hid amongst the dark clouds of smoke created from Estovakian bombs and Russkyan artillery to frustrate observers and hide their strength, while also attempting to outflank the Russkyans by attacking from all directions. Standard soldiers, but also camoflauged soldiers, and even police and armed civilians attacked using not only standard weapons which the soldiers carried but also hunting equipment (including bear traps to hopefully get a careless Russkyan), batons, tazers, flashbang grenades, and bulletproof and ballistic shields (from the riot police stores), bayonets, axes, pipe wrenches, molotov cocktails, and surprisingly efficient and effective improvised grenade launchers. And at the very least, if these didn't work, they had at least an advantage in numbers.

Colonel Metzger, increasingly nervous about the situation, and his fate, had enough of watching from the sidelines. His platoon and him were going to enter the fray. Personally.

OOC: Estonavian, which is similar to Estovanian (it is also similar to Estovakian but less so), is a blend of Western Slavic (Czech, Slovak, and Polish) and Southern Slavic (Serbo-Croatian, Slovene) languages (with a slant more toward Western Slavic) and a few minor differences and regionalisms. They might not understand what you write, but they should be able to understand what you say for the most part (obviously there are going to be a few differences).

Not that you care, or is even relavent to the above paragraph, Estovakian is also a blend of Western Slavic and Southern Slavic languages with a slant more toward Southern Slavic and with its own regionalisms, idioms, and differences. Native Estovakians should also be able to get the gist or the idea of what any Russkyan says as well. However, not all Estovakians can speak Estovakian since there has been an extremely large amount of immigration in the last thirty years,.English is used heavily second language and many first-generation or second-generations can only speak English fluently.

While I understand Western and Southern Slavic is different from Eastern Slavic, there are people that I know that know Western Slavic and can understand spoken Southern Slavic and Eastern Slavic because the Slavic languages are somewhat similar.


OOC:
- I find that all of the Slavic languages share a great many words and even pronounciation methods. Serbo-Croatian is similiar enough to Russian that they'll understand most of it. I find where the languages differ the most is in swearing, actually, rather than basic conversational vocabulary. Interesting to find someone else who has given language the same amount of thought I have. In order for the whole 'singing' thing to work, they'dve had to understand Russkyan, which being similiar to Russian, is ergo similiar to many South Slavic languages. Given the similarities to the Balkans in the Stovakian Penninsula, I was really hoping they'd speak something like Serbo-Croat so that entire thing would work. You were away, so TG'ing you would've just slowed me down, and I was on a roll. Heh.
IC Response to come. Having some major difficulty writing anything useful now.

OOC:
- Sorry about the double-post here, but the forums keep screwing with me whenever I try to edit the above post. Bastard thing.


IC:

If one were to simply outline the penetration the Russkyans had made into Karadjevo, it would look much as a rapier-thrust. The dangers of such a narrow advance were obvious, but a broad-front offensive would have consumed too many men and too much materiel for the battlegroup to continue the nessecary 'security' operations outside the city.

Reconnaissance and other intelligence gathering efforts, including missives from the Estovakians, indicated that the Estovanians were now in Karadjevo. This, rather than extinguishing the Estonavian will to resist and forcing them to withdraw or disappear into the civilian population, had instead strengthened their resolve. Many Estonavians now needed to be blasted out of buildings one by one, room by room. The increased strain was taking its toll on the Black Glengarries, and their casualties came back one by one or in handfuls of three or five.

The superior training and tactics of the Russkyan Black Glengarry Regiment, the national specialists of urban and close quarters combat, was taking its toll on the Estonavian defenders of Karadjevo. Their morale and tenacity made up for their lack of formal training, to a surprisingly large extent. The Russko-Celts found their advance slowed, but by nightfall of the second day of increased Estonavian resistance, and largely without any artillery beyond the 82mm 'Vasilesk' mortar tubes at the Company level, they'd managed to battle and blast their way to within two blocks of the embattled VDV soldiers with the surviving ENLO partisans and their politically-valuable charges.

But the toll this had taken on the Glengarries was frightening. Platoons had lost 25% of their strength, if not more. The survivors were gaunt, haggard, with a few days of beard on their faces and filthy in concrete dust, sweat, and in more than a few cases, blood. Their weapons, Russkyan MBRS rifles and "Dona Goaithe" GPMGs, to name the two most prevalent, were perfectly clean, however reliable they might be when fouled with powder residue, dust, and other detrius.

CS (Tear gas) was only so effective. The first time the Estonavians had attempted to use tear gas to force Russkyans out of a building, the Glengarries had all donned respirators carried expressly for that purpose, tossed the canisters back out of the building, and met the charging Estonavians with a hail of gunfire. Some would say that the masks the Glengarries carried were also useful against nerve agent, but those people would be ignorant of most gasses and their ability to absorb through mucus membranes, to include the skin. Were it not for the limited size of the Russkyan battlegroup, at least a company of Chemical Warfare Specialists would be present, and R9NA nerve gas would likely have been used by now in this kind of vicious, no-holds-barred street fighting. If the Estonavians dared to use any nerve agent, a rain of thermobarics followed by noxious clouds of R9NA would annhilate all life in Karadjevo. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

The advance had essentially stalled by this point. Both battalions of the Black Glengarries had been deployed into Karadjevo, their tails watched by VDV soldiers, dug in throughout suburbia and on the route back towards the Russkyan bases, watching as convoys loaded with ammunition went forwards and L-16AMTs filled with wounded or with body-bagged dead lashed to the roof of the vehicles headed back from the city. At night, the sky above the embattled parts of the city was illuminated with a strange reddish light reflecting off any clouds present.

Estonavian efforts to outflank the Russkyans had mostly been in vain. Their assaults had been usually been stopped with aimed rifle fire and bursts from the GPMGs, and should they have gotten to hand to hand combat range, the Russkyans outclassed their Estonavian opponents there as well. A pile of Estonavian corpses outside the doorway of one bullet-scarred structure where the roof sagged in one corner from a mortar hit attested to that. All the corpses bore wounds from fighting knives, bayonets, rifle-stocks, or even axes, that a handful of Russkyan soldiers had opted to bring with them into the city.

Ideally linkup with whatever was left of Karsov's platoon would be achieved by mid-day tomorrow, with the offensive jumping off again at 04.45 hours local time.

Outside the city core, VDV troops patrolled and watched from carefully sited and well camouflaged slit trenches. An armed mob of Estonavians had attempted to strike the left flank, maybe a section of Estonavian regulars and a good fifty civilians now lay where they'd fallen. They'd tried to advance with some sembelance of professionalism, but had only gotten as close as twenty meters to the nearest Russkyans before being cut down.

Ivanjušević still lived, but his radio was torn in two by shrapnel. He and precisely six remaining VDV - Sn/LT Karsov had died overnight, from a ricochet that had bounced into his left eye - had to hold on for a few more hours. A handful of Estonavian irregulars had tried storming the building, somehow slipping through the constant rain of artillery that was being provided as a means to bolster the defender's morale and keep the Estonavians at bay, and their corpses lay as a barricade at the top of the stairs. One's skull was split asunder down to the neck with a axe-blow, and his grisly death had frightened the others sufficiently that they'd tried to withdraw, only to be cut down mercilessly by the embattled occupants of the somehow-still-standing structure.

General Weiss was having a bad day. He was extremely worried about the Russkyans. Intelligence reported that the Estovanians had struck some sort of informal deal with the remnants of the government and had a sort of ceasefire arranged between local commanders and the Estovanian army. Fighting significantly decreased between the Estovanians, who seemed to be moving south toward Cistowes, which freed Estonavians to be bunch up on the exposed Russkyans salent. Estovakian advancements met stiff resistance regardless of their superior firepower, equipment, and training. The Estonavians had intimate knowledge of the surroundings and several times were able to surprise advance troops with ambushes and traps.

Some 15,000 Estonavian combatants were in the city. The numbers worried Weiss who realized the vulnerability of the Russkyans and the even more tenuous supply line which was strenched deep through enemy territory and being attacked. He was afraid the supply lines might be severed or that the Estonavians might isolate and destroy Russkyan pockets.

Official Military Communique

--Estovakian High Command 12:00:00 Emergency Priority!--

From: Lieutenant General Weiss
To: Russkyan Army HQ

Withdraw westward to friendly lines immediately. Hold is tenuous and vulnerable to heavy attack. Estovakian artillery and air force will support withdrawl. The risk is too high to stay any longer. Anymore casualties as a result of the endevour are unnecessary and dangerous.

A 767 at Stovakgrad International Airport taxied for take off. It wasn't any airliner but the presidential airliner. Onboard was Generalissimo Maxwell.

"I hope the Russkyans don't mind," Maxwell said to one of his aides.

The plane took off from the airport soon after. The destination: Russkya.

OOC: Your 767 is going to want to approach Russkya from the East. Rong'ji is making noise in Me'i to the South, Sorachoak might lob a leftover SAM at you because Spazjenia doesn't quite have it secured completely yet, and the FLRJ is currently fighting a huge civil war, best not fly over that at all. You'll be challenged by the Russkyan Border Guard (RBG), who will point a lot of SAMs and AAA your way until we know who you are, then you'll be escorted in by a squadron of Su-37s, who will see you to Russkya International Airport in the Central Oblast.
Yes, I know that the Battlegroup White section is... perhaps somewhat too convienent. But the Black Glengarry Regiment are the urban combat experts, the L-16s are equipped for it, and if nothing else, I like this Colonel Metzger and would hate to see him with his ass in more of a sling than it already is. And on the other hand, failure to relieve the VDV would mean that the Black Glengarries would never fall back, as it runs counter to every instinct they have. Damned clannish Celts. Heh.

--

In their firing positions, each BM-30 9K58-R "GROZOM" MLRS system oriented their ordnance on the proper azimuth, and elevated the tubes. The fire-control systems displayed target type, fire mission request, and all appropriate targetting data, and the computer did much of the work by itself. One artilleryman, 33 years old with fifteen of his years spent serving in the Rocket Artillery branch of the Russkyan Army's Artillery Corps, looked back at the 300mm tubes and then down at the compass and map in his lap, checking range and azimuth. He nodded his approval as the "BATTERY: FIRE" message displayed on the orders screen, and the volley fire began.

A battery, in Russkyan parlance, consists of ten platforms. BM-30 9K58R Grozom was equipped with sixteen tubes per, those rockets measuring 300mm. As such, simple mathemetics meant that 160 artillery rockets would be landing over the span of thirty seconds on a target approximately sixty-three kilometers away - not such a long range for a system that could easily reach out ninety kilometers. The battery was tasked to engage two targets simultaneously.

Fully half of those rockets were High Explosive Blast Fragmentation, which, impacting dirt, produce a crater three meters deep and eight meters wide. Those rockets would be landing on a small village suspected to be a Estonavian rally point quite near the Russkyan's flank. The others were destined for a location that Reconnaissance had indicated was a resupply point belonging to either the Estonavians or the Estovanians.

Regardless of who owned the resupply point, eight High Explosive Blast Fragmentation rockets were destined for it. Out of the other half of the rockets, those were High Explosive Blast Fragmentation Submunition Rockets, or, for a shorter name, "Cluster" rockets. Each rocket carried 72 submunitions weighing two kilograms, which would detonate with the force of an oversized hand grenade, easily enough for a single submunition to reduce a pair of fully grown men to a red smear and bone fragments, or eviscerate them with white-hot shrapnel. Their effective blast radius was about ten meters, with their effective fragmentation radius, garunteeing death or wounding with shrapnel, about twenty five meters. It depended on terrain, mostly.

And regardless of that fact, five thousand seven hundred and sixty - 5760 - blast-fragmentation submunitions would be detonating in an area about two square kilometers in size. And unfortunately for the Estonavians or the Estovanians, whomever that point belonged to... it was unlikely that Foxtrot-Victor 2 was wrong. If it wasn't a resupply point, it at least looked a lot like one.

--

"I don't think they'll disengage without accomplishing something, Major. Over."

"Wilco. Have you relieved Karsov yet, go?"

"Negative, Major. Got closer, within half a block now, we can see them firing back and we know exactly where they are. We just haven't gotten to them yet. Over."

"Acknowledged, Captain. Acknowledge this order when recieved. Assemble a company-strength battlegroup designated Battlegroup White. Objectives are to secure Estonavian President and relieve Senior Lieutenant Karsov's platoon. Immediate withdrawl to friendly positions when objectives complete. Over."

"Sir, Romeo Four-Bravo acknowledges order to form Battlegroup White and has recieved Battlegroup orders, over."

"Good. Is that all, go?"

"Yes sir. Romeo Four-Bravo out."

Iltchenko lay the handset down next to the powerful radio it was hooked into and turned back to his map, pulling a laminated copy of the Karadjevo map over the one of the surrounding area. While his Operations Staff made quick notes and the Communications staff prepared to relay those orders, Iltchenko circled a ridge running perpendicular to the Russkyan line of withdrawl, scrawling a pair of Company markers on it and the jagged line indicating a defensive position. That would be one point where the rearguard action was fought.

Outside the command tent, the Anti-Armour Company started the engines on their L-15AT vehicles and prepared to roll.

--

82mm and 155mm fire picked up prodigeously as the hastily assembled Battlegroup White, equipped with a handful of L-16ISCs that would provide direct fire support and evacuate the VDV and any casualties, as well as the Estonavian President and entourage. The Vixens were equipped with slat armour that had been fitted prior to entering Karadjevo, that would effectively stop RPG fire.
The throaty roar of the 35mm automatic cannons was soon heard, and a already battle-damaged house lost a wall as all structural support was removed by a line of armour-piercing rounds that punched a neat, evenly-spaced line through the bottom of the wall. The drywall and brick crashed down onto the street, and a veritable storm of coaxial machinegun fire filled any exposed room with lead and death.

Ivanjušević cheered, holding his AKS-74M in one hand as he thrust his left hand up into the air, his torn, bloody, dust-filthy uniform sleeve hanging loosely at the elbow, flapping in the wind created by overlapping explosions. Then he helped load corpses into the Vixen, before clambering aboard another with his surviving comrades. Two Black Glengarries were tearing down the barricade of corpses blocking one door, four gathered the Russkyan dead and uncerimonously hove them out a gap in the wall to be collected and shoved inside a L-16ISC. A few ENLO partisan corpses were likewise collected, some undistinguishable, and under the guard of a tense platoon's worth of Glengarries, the President and his entourage were hustled into a L-16ISC that was running with one flattened tire and scorch marks on the armour plate that had defeated PG-7V warheads thanks to the slat applique.

Immediately the vehicles reversed, and once they'd made it to within ten meters of their jumping off positions, a Glengarry officer punched his radio operator in the shoulder, who gave the all clear signal.

Two full batteries of Grozom MLRS, all firing blast-fragmentation submunition rockets, blanketed that section of Karadjevo to silence opposition long enough for the Glengarries to fall back.

[QUOTE=Russkya;11690673]OOC: Your 767 is going to want to approach Russkya from the East. Rong'ji is making noise in Me'i to the South, Sorachoak might lob a leftover SAM at you because Spazjenia doesn't quite have it secured completely yet, and the FLRJ is currently fighting a huge civil war, best not fly over that at all. You'll be challenged by the Russkyan Border Guard (RBG), who will point a lot of SAMs and AAA your way until we know who you are, then you'll be escorted in by a squadron of Su-37s, who will see you to Russkya International Airport in the Central Oblast.
Yes, I know that the Battlegroup White section is... perhaps somewhat too convienent. But the Black Glengarry Regiment are the urban combat experts, the L-16s are equipped for it, and if nothing else, I like this Colonel Metzger and would hate to see him with his ass in more of a sling than it already is. And on the other hand, failure to relieve the VDV would mean that the Black Glengarries would never fall back, as it runs counter to every instinct they have. Damned clannish Celts. Heh.


OOC: It should be assumed Estovakia let your Foerign Ministry office or Executive Office know the Generalissimo was coming as soon as the plane lifted off. Otherwise, I realize an unidentified jet speeding toward your territory would look quite suspicious. I'm not too thrilled to the notion of having my leader shot down so I'd hope Russkyan Air Traffic Control would guide the plane in.

The Gneralissimo would probably have an itinerary like the following:

1. The Generalissimo shakes hands with Russkyan diplomats. (Photo Op!)
2. Has a private conversation with top Russkyan politicans regarding economic trade between the two nations, tries to improve relations between the two countries, and of course, speak about the current war in Estonavia, post-war demands, concessions, and territorial adjustments and what to do with the Estovanians and rebuilding.
3. Visit museums and war memorials. (Photo Op!)
4. Holds open briefing and conversation with Russkyans in front of Russkayn and Estovakian media. (Photo Op!)
5. Gives medals to brave injured Russkyans who served in Estonavia and flies home.

You know, the boring and trite political PR campaign crap that politicans frequently do.

And on a separate note I should note that before the end of this RP, Colonel Metzger will ask something of you. I'm not going to say what (it won't seem too serious to do, like for example, I won't ask you to nuke or attack anyone) but whether you do it or you don't, it will affect the future of Estovakia (and probably affect some RP in the future).

OOC:

If you add the cheery, fake-smile mass-produced-blonde-bitch cheerleader kind of cheeriness and way of speaking to the phrase "PHOTO OP!", it becomes hugely funny. Maybe I'm just too tired. It is 02.00 after all.

Right, if we assume that we know you're coming in, the moment you're within range you'll have a full squadron up and escorting you (More of a ceremonial thing at that point) into Berisak International. (Airfield located right next to the capital.) At that point, delegation there to meet you, don't be offended by the lack of pomp and circumstance, Russkyan politics tend to be a lot more... "laid back" in those terms. It's because of the Skolchoi, but that's a history lesson that would require too much space to post right away.

Interesting itinerary. Not entirely sure how to do No.4, but that should be fun. Right, looking forward to it. Interesting break from the "Command Tent Diplomacy" and the mud and blood of the battlefield.

OOC:

If you add the cheery, fake-smile mass-produced-blonde-bitch cheerleader kind of cheeriness and way of speaking to the phrase "PHOTO OP!", it becomes hugely funny. Maybe I'm just too tired. It is 02.00 after all.

Right, if we assume that we know you're coming in, the moment you're within range you'll have a full squadron up and escorting you (More of a ceremonial thing at that point) into Berisak International. (Airfield located right next to the capital.) At that point, delegation there to meet you, don't be offended by the lack of pomp and circumstance, Russkyan politics tend to be a lot more... "laid back" in those terms. It's because of the Skolchoi, but that's a history lesson that would require too much space to post right away.

Interesting itinerary. Not entirely sure how to do No.4, but that should be fun. Right, looking forward to it. Interesting break from the "Command Tent Diplomacy" and the mud and blood of the battlefield.

OOC: Wasn't expecting pomp and circumstance. Generalissimo Maxwell (or whatever he is called; his title changes from Excellency, President Imperator, etc. often) is a brilliant orator, propagandist, and diplomat capable of winning over most people's hearts through his eloquent (though not excessively) and meaningful speech. He is a man who isn't afraid to say where he stands on issues, which makes him seem honest, and he often speaks to the point- without any frills attached.

His true intelligence, however, lies in his military genius. He was an astonishing general capable of keeping morale high, making do with what was available, and was capable of taking on overwelming odds. In other words, he's a general and a motivater first, a politician second.

Personally, he is reserved. He often prefers solitude and quietness over roudy and gaudy appearances and is low-key when he can be.

On a separate note, what I meant by No. 4 would be something akin to the economic summits and world leaders conferrences that happen everyone once and awhile. The ones where the world leaders gather around a giant conference table in front of the media, shake hands and smile, sit down, and agree for the 651st time "World peace is great!" "let's end world hunger!" "Drugs are bad!" "The [insert nationality here] are good friends and good people!" "Let's end terror!" "Let's help our economies grow!" "Reading is fun!" "Let's go hug a rainbow!".

Then they go behind closed doors, do hard bargaining, secret deals, agree on questionable political actions, etc, etc.

Would post IC, but I can't RP my plane coming into Russkya since you have ceremonies and I can't describe your county (since it is yours and only you know what it looks like) and I don't know what to post regarding the war front right now.

OOC: I like this Generalissimo Maxwell character. I'm going to bounce between Estonavia and Russkya here, and get this game of diplomacy-ball underway. Nice description of international politics there, prettymuch the same one I would have given, except you didn't swear nearly as much as I would have. And yeah... I've written better posts, but this will suffice, methinks.

--

Major Iltchenko, responsible for two battalions of VDV and a full Brigade of the Black Glengarry Regiment, now looked at the map in a different light. He was outside, in the shade of a large tree, the L-16CP parked nearby. He brushed a leaf off the laminated surface of the map and looked back down at the swiftly retreating rapier thrust the Russkyans had made into Karadjevo. Already, "Kampfgruppe Nietzsche," as they were beginning to call themselves, or Battlegroup White as they still appeared on the map, had reached their objective and about-faced to fight a twelve-hour delaying action, before breaking contact and falling back past Battlegroup Blue, consisting of a reinforced VDV Company, and continuing this pattern until the flanks of the VDV were anchored firmly into the Estovakian line, and then the Black Glengarry BDE could rest, reorganize, and recouperate.

Initial casualty reports had been staggering. For such a small force, for the Brigade from First Division of The Russkyan Black Glengarry Regiment "only" numbered two battalions and a total of 1322 personnel, of which only half a battalion had been at the knife-edge in Karadjevo's "old town," only 25% of those men had come back. A total of 300 casualties, a stunning 78 of them KIAs and a staggering 126 severely wounded, with the remainder being lightly wounded or severely battle-fatigued, had been reported so far.

One of the radio operators held out the handset of a mid-range radio to Iltchenko, who lifted it to the side of his head while still looking down at the map, sitting on a small table not a kilometer from the large Russkyan forward base.

"Kampfgruppe Nietzsche reporting. No casualties sustained. Holding in position, have achieved linkup with Anti-Armour Company. Lima-One-Five impressive in action, over."

"Battlegroup White, Iltchenko acknowledges. Catch you on the flip-side, over."

Many dozens of kilometers away, the Battlegroup White commander laughed his short, characteristic bark of a laugh.

"Iltchenko, Nietzsche. Acknowledged. Nietzsche Won, God is Dead, out."

Iltchenko handed the handset back and grinned, though behind the empty smile he knew that the mere fact Captain Nikolov was making references to Nietzsche indicated the brutality of the street fighting in Karadjevo. An Operations Staff officer moved the markers denoting supporting elements and withdrawing VDV and Russko-Celt units across the map, referencing the constantly updating TADS screen.

--

"Contact."

The scarred soldier, commander of Foxtrot-Victor One, looked across at his comrade and keyed the transmit key on his headset, relaying coordinates and target composition to his other teammate inside the Fennek, who relayed that data to a Grozom battery fifty kilometers distant. A handful of 300mm High Explosive Blast Fragmentation warheads, then some artillery-deployed landmines of both the antipersonnel and antitank variety, and the Estonavians would be slowed on their pursuit of the calmly withdrawing Russkyans.

He ran a hand over his face, shrouded with black beard and camouflage greasestick, feeling the strain. He needed a rest, they all did, but at least the remainder of his troop from his Independant Reconnaissance Battalion would be arriving soon. With the longer-range reconnaissance duties spread out across those vehicles, rest breaks could be more frequent. Foxtrot Victor Two's Fennek started its engine nearby, the relatively quiet noise, for an engine, stating what the soldier knew to be true already. Time to relocate.

--

With Air Traffic Control Berisak International having handed over to Air Control Berisak Airfield, the Estovakian Generalissimo's aircraft was touching down on a secure, Government-only runway. By the end of the taxiway, stood a long black limousine, two RISS escort cars, large black BMW sedans, and a handful of personnel in perfectly tailored black suits. One of them wore a goatee and ran his leather-gloved hand over the close-cropped dark hairs meditatively, face blank of all emotion.

An honour guard of fifty soldiers stood in two long single ranks of twenty five each, on either side of a dark red carpet. They were MVD-ISF soldiers, drawn up in their dress uniforms. Following the mindset of "It is useless to have a useless weapon," every man carried three spare magazines in a blanco'd Soviet-type canvas magazine pouch on his left hip, and had the lustrous brown polished leather "dress uniform sling" attached to the AK-74M rifle, all the slack taken out of it so it held tight against the reciever. One magazine was loaded, one round chambered, and safeties were on.

When the aircraft came to a halt, the men would shoulder their arms, salute to the front, and hold that position until the Estovakians had passed, at which point they would assume the position of attention and wait for the motorcade to leave before being dismissed by their officer, who stood at the head of the right-side column, handgun holstered but holster undone. The automatic APS Stetchkin had a full magazine seated and a round in the chamber, just as his men's weapons did.

Then RISS would take over and the column would move to the Politburo Buildings. A small media team was present with their cameras, respectfully quiet and off to one side, most unlike the Western media. The Foreign Affairs functionary stood nervously behind Minister of the Interior & Foreign Affairs Viktor Govak, well aware that his suit seemed less than properly fitting in comparision to the precisely tailored suits the RISS men wore. The goatee'd man scared him, quite frankly, and his infrequent habit of stretching his hands, clad in precisely fitting leather gloves, only increased the functionary's nervousness.

Govak stood staring down the runway as the aircraft approached. Not a lot of forewarning had been given by the Estovakians, but fortunately the Russkyans had been able to respond quickly.

With Air Traffic Control Berisak International having handed over to Air Control Berisak Airfield, the Estovakian Generalissimo's aircraft was touching down on a secure, Government-only runway. By the end of the taxiway, stood a long black limousine, two RISS escort cars, large black BMW sedans, and a handful of personnel in perfectly tailored black suits. One of them wore a goatee and ran his leather-gloved hand over the close-cropped dark hairs meditatively, face blank of all emotion.

An honour guard of fifty soldiers stood in two long single ranks of twenty five each, on either side of a dark red carpet. They were MVD-ISF soldiers, drawn up in their dress uniforms. Following the mindset of "It is useless to have a useless weapon," every man carried three spare magazines in a blanco'd Soviet-type canvas magazine pouch on his left hip, and had the lustrous brown polished leather "dress uniform sling" attached to the AK-74M rifle, all the slack taken out of it so it held tight against the reciever. One magazine was loaded, one round chambered, and safeties were on.

When the aircraft came to a halt, the men would shoulder their arms, salute to the front, and hold that position until the Estovakians had passed, at which point they would assume the position of attention and wait for the motorcade to leave before being dismissed by their officer, who stood at the head of the right-side column, handgun holstered but holster undone. The automatic APS Stetchkin had a full magazine seated and a round in the chamber, just as his men's weapons did.

Then RISS would take over and the column would move to the Politburo Buildings. A small media team was present with their cameras, respectfully quiet and off to one side, most unlike the Western media. The Foreign Affairs functionary stood nervously behind Minister of the Interior & Foreign Affairs Viktor Govak, well aware that his suit seemed less than properly fitting in comparision to the precisely tailored suits the RISS men wore. The goatee'd man scared him, quite frankly, and his infrequent habit of stretching his hands, clad in precisely fitting leather gloves, only increased the functionary's nervousness.

Govak stood staring down the runway as the aircraft approached. Not a lot of forewarning had been given by the Estovakians, but fortunately the Russkyans had been able to respond quickly.

The first person to get out of the plane was a low-key bodyguard in a simple suit. An aide to the Generalissimo filed out next followed close behind by the Gneralissimo himself. He paused on the steps leading from the airplane for a brief moment, allowing photographers the time to take a picture.

He then proceeded down the steps toward the honor guard. This time he strolled out in front of his entourage and walked cooly, calmly through the two rows of soldiers, followed closely by an Estovakian Air Force Oberst and a Black Guard Commander*. Although it looked as if he wasn't paying attention to the soldiers, he was, out of habit, inspecting the uniforms of the soldiers out of the corner of his eye, both critiquing the soldiers and the uniforms themselves, looking for any subtle variation from soldier to soldier, off-center belt buckles, unpolished shoes, etc. He was pleased by the professionalism of the soldiers and proceeded toward the small team of Russkyan diplomats awaiting his arrival.

* A Black Guard Commander is the equivalent of a Brigadier. An interesting but useless fact regarding the Air Force Oberst (actually the Air Force not the person himself) is that

--Estovakian High Command 12:00:00 Emergency Priority!--

is a result of when the Military Computer Interface, a computer network centralizing all military systems (except NBC systems and early-warning systems those are closed systems to prevent compromisation) came online. The Air Force is the branch that developed the program for communication purposes, military intelligence relaying (ground recon and military sats)

In Estovakia, the Air Force isn't an equal branch per se with the Army and the Navy. The Army contains land and land-based aircraft, while the navy contains naval forces and naval-based aircraft. The Air Force itself in Estovakia is made up of early-warning systems (radar, AWACs, sonar web) first strike (the aircraft portion of the air force), and the NBC systems collectively under a separate computer entity called StrikeNET. It is used more defensively whereas the Army and the Navy (I'll explain doctrine someday, maybe tommorrow) is used offensibly.

OOC: Sorry I couldn't write more. I have to wake up early everyday (5 A.M.) so I want to go to bed somewhat early. I am the type of person who needs his sleep. Otherwise, you don't want to be around me. You just don't. I argue with, attack, and curse at anyone or anything in my way (Including light poles; yes I have been tired enough once to argue with an inanimate object) and overall when I go to bed is my favorite time of the day.

OOC: What I was trying to explain before was the Army, Navy, Air Force doctrine.

On paper most use the army as a land attack force, the navy as a naval attack force, and the air force as an air attack force.

The roles in Estovakia are similar but different.

The army is purely offensive. The army is used to attack and invade. They are used when war is declared. The army is rarely used to handle things within the country itself. If there is a disaster, the State Police (which functions as the police as well as national guard) intervenes. If there is a minor incursion, say a small influx in rebel activity on the borders, the State Police (which is the Black Guard civil branch BTW) handles things.

The Navy is more defensive. It functions both as a navy and a coast guard. Much of Estovakia's ships are long range patrol ships, frigates, crusiers, and destroyers cheaply created to patrol the seas, help those in need, and protect against sea pirates since Estovakian teritory includes isolated island chains, long coastlines, and unexplored territory. It does have many modern, state-of-the-art ships at its disposal and it isn't like it can't launch offensive actions and is without teeth, but they are located far from the mainland and are used to protect Estovakia's territory.

At heart Estovakia is a land power. The emphasis isn't on the navy. The navy lacks supercarriers and the emphasis of the navy is not on control of the seas but sea denial, or guerre de course. Estovakia, terrain-wise, is a pretty shitty place for a maritime nation. On the West side of Estovakia, the ocean is rough and stormy with a shallow depth, variable sand bars, and underwater rock formations that often scrap ship hulls and sink those that aren't careful. Virtually all of Estovakia's coastline is craggy cliff faces, making it next to impossible for a landing party to land anywhere. Worse for an attacker, if one manages to somehow successfully land on the western coast, especially to the southwest, there is nothing but mountains, hills, and low-density villages with few highways and very few roads and sriveable terrain in general. Thus Estovakia's true concern has always been on land power. Most of Estovakia's home fleet consist of cheap diesel subs, silent submarines, and mine laying destroyers with the doctrine that if an invading fleet comes, they'd be pinned between Estovakia's unforgiving terrain and mines, and then pressed into either one by subs.

The Marines, a function of the navy, is different than the army in that they are generally used during peacetime more than wartime. They handles peacetime crises, such as undeclared wars or overseas disorders, and peacekeeping operations. Obviously amphibious operations are a forte, but these days amphibious operations are generally limited to unexplored terrain, like when establishing a temporary base on Pacifica Estovakia (Estovakia currently claims a continent about 110% as large as Europe).

The Air Force is hard to explain. When it came into being it faced hard oppostion from the army and navy, both none to thrill that moeny earmarked for them was now going to a redundant branch. Both the army and navy had aircraft, and neither was too eager to give them up.

The Air Force had to try to justify its existence and did so by several methods. First, it explained that the army uses its aircraft for offensive purposes and the navy uses its aircraft to protect isolated naval bases and its own fleet. Neither branch emphasized defending the homeland, which the Air Force said justified its existance. Second, as the technology age dawned, the Air Force cunningly beat out the army and navy for most research-related funds for an extensive research department. Thus, in addition to air defense, the air force produces and runs most of Estovakia's high technology early warning systems, computer systems, electronic warfare, Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical systems, and an extensive signal intelligence network. Thus it functions not only as a defense entity but also as a "Strategic Command" monitoring all vital systems. It centralizes all military intelligence. It monitors the satellites and radars. It maintains the nuclear program. Any command to launch any nuclear, chemical, or biological weapon comes from the executive branch through the Air Force, including naval SSBMs.

As I said earlier this year, the military was receiving an extensive overhaul. Part of that overhaul is the establishment of an updated computer system called the MCI (Military Computer Interface). This allows all non-critical (ie not NBC systems and very top secret material) military intelligence and communications to flow between all branches seemlessly. For example, a Lance-Corporal using a touch screen can relay the fact that an enemy patrol is attacking his vehicle. This info would be instantly accessable on all screens (if so desired) in a certain radius, regardless of branch (previously, only units of a same branch would be able to access the info). The MCI also handles military e-mails, and voice communications.

The --Estovakian High Command 12:00:00 Emergency Priority!-- that appears after every e-mail or communique between Estovakia and Russkya is a result of MCi coming online.

StrikeNET was slated to be released simultaneously. Previously, NBC systems and top secret intel (meant to be seen by only the top echelons) were sent via a secure line thorugh standard military communications networks. Now they are sent through a secure network of its own called StrikeNET. StrikeNET is a completely enclosed system. You cannot access StrikeNET unless through equipment already connected to the network. In other words, if a hacker were to infiltrate MCI to sabotage or hack our strategic missile command, it would not work because StrikeNET is not connected to any other military network and does not use the Internet. StrikeNET's mission is stated in its motto: "We stop wars before they happen." StrikeNET controls the nuclear, biological, and chemical arsenal, strategic bombers, critical military intelligence, national security, and orders to the senior staff of the Black Guard are issued through the network. If war is inevitable, especially nuclear war, StrikeNET is tasked wih eliminating the threat to Estovakia.

OOC: Shit, I thought I went into detail. IC post to follow.

OOC: Shit, I thought I went into detail. IC post to follow.

The funniest thing was that the doctrines took all of 2 minutes when I originally thought of them two weeks ago. Over course, I type slow so it took an hour and a half to post the above post.

OOC: Heh, yeah, I figured out all of my unit organizations and doctrines in about five minutes, but am still trying to write all of them down. *Insert recording of me banging my head off the desk now.*

IC:

Minister Govak stepped forward and offered a handshake.

"Welcome to Russkya, Generalissimo Maxwell. If I may, I'll direct you and your entourage to the limousine. You will find refreshments inside, and it is only a ten minute ride to the Politburo Buildings."

The RISS personnel, drawn from three different Directorates for their varying specialities, continued to scan the tarmac and surrounding area for a non-existent threat.

Govak continued;

"I hope you don't mind, but standard procedure dictates that a handful of men from the RISS Protection Directorate accompany you while on Russkyan territory. It is one of many ways we try to ensure the safety of our guests. There are some here who would not agree with our talks, though I can personally garuntee your safety. Shall we?"

With that, he motioned towards the open limousine door.

OOC: Heh, yeah, I figured out all of my unit organizations and doctrines in about five minutes, but am still trying to write all of them down. *Insert recording of me banging my head off the desk now.*

IC:

Minister Govak stepped forward and offered a handshake.

"Welcome to Russkya, Generalissimo Maxwell. If I may, I'll direct you and your entourage to the limousine. You will find refreshments inside, and it is only a ten minute ride to the Politburo Buildings."

The RISS personnel, drawn from three different Directorates for their varying specialities, continued to scan the tarmac and surrounding area for a non-existent threat.

Govak continued;

"I hope you don't mind, but standard procedure dictates that a handful of men from the RISS Protection Directorate accompany you while on Russkyan territory. It is one of many ways we try to ensure the safety of our guests. There are some here who would not agree with our talks, though I can personally garuntee your safety. Shall we?"

With that, he motioned towards the open limousine door.

Generalissimo Maxwell and his entourage took turns shaking hands with the Russkyans. Then they started toward the limousines.

Generalissimo's Entourage

Generalissimo Maxwell
Air Force Oberst w/ suitcase
Black Guard Commander (non-uniformed)
Private secretary
Two presidential aides

Behind a black BMW carrying four RISS PRODIR operators, the limousine travelled down the smooth roadway at a steady hundred kilometers per hour pace. Inside, the Estovakian Generalissimo, his entourage, and Minister Govak, and behind that vehicle, the second black BMW.

As traffic had been re-routed, the motorcade made good time. They arrived at the Politburo Buildings in five minutes, the limousine parked precisely on its mark, leaving the rear door facing the Building directly over the unrolled red carpet, edged with black, a strip of fabric marooned on a field of grey concrete. The building doors were held open by a pair of uniformed Cossacks from the Kiril Semyonovich Cossack Battalion's Protection Squadron, their helmets off and hanging from their hips, opposite their holstered sidearms, their weapons, one a KRCS Blackthorn combat shotgun and the other a BIZON submachinegun, held at the salute. Pale faces steady and neutral, they stared straight ahead at a point on the door opposite them. Their normally worn black nomex balaclavas were tucked into a cargo pocket on their combat trousers.

The RISS man with the goatee in the immaculate suit was the first to exit any vehicle. He and three companions stood, eyes constantly shifting, scanning rooftops, windows, doorways. Paranoia was their modus operandi, despite this being one of the most secure locations in the People's Socialist Republic. The other four dismounted their vehicle, one holding open the door to the limousine for Maxwell and Govak, and the others standing on the far side of each vehicle, eyes outwards.

Just inside the doors, an open lobby with black marble flooring, streaked with silver and deep red veins, was flanked by a lush garden on one side and a empty series of cherrywood-topped tables and cherrywood-backed chairs, constructed of black metal with fabric-padded feet to ensure they didn't scratch the elegant and expensive flooring, on the other.

Stood at attention just forwards of the garden, a single line of Navy sailors, resplendant in their dark uniforms and dark blue striped Telnyashkas, stood with beautifully maintained SVT-40 rifles at the General Salute. Their commanding NCO lifted a bosun's whistle to his lips and prepared to blow the three-note welcome to a visiting dignitary when the entourage crossed the threshhold.