NationStates Jolt Archive

La Linea, Spain
Antonio took a look through the binoculars once again, sweeping through entrance into the Gibraltar. The Union Jack waved violently in the southern winds, manifesting British imperalism on Spanish territory since the Treaty of Utrecht. Antonio was just one military spy looking over his potential adversaries. He was just one link of a tradition that had begun ever since the territory was ceded to England in 1713, and he had heard the stories of Spanish spies in La Linea throughout the Second World War, when Franco's involvement was a very real threat. But now he looked at it through a different set of eyes as his antecedents. He looked through them like a conqueror, perfectly aware that for the first time since Phillip II Spain would dare meet Britain face to face in a war for Spanish expansion on 'British territory'. How fitting that it would be Phillip VII to make the move. A chill went up Antonio's spine as he thought that he would witness the reunification of the Iberian Peninsula, unseen since the early 1500s.

General Diego de la Vista tapped him on the shoulder and Antonio startled a bit. The general said, "Do you see anything new with their deployment patterns?" Antonio knew what he was talking about. Algeciras was filling up with a full batallion of spanish legionnairres and the general was worried that the British had caught on to the new Spanish movements.

Antonio shook his head, "Nothing. Either they're worrying more about Portugal, or they just don't know we're preparing for operations here. I thought I saw something last night, as they moved an entire company but it seemed only temporary. The company returned to barracks. Frankly, I don't believe they have a single clue on what's about to happen."

"Good, let's see if we can keep it that way." General Diego smiled as he said that. The general was about to turn around and walk away, but instead he ordered, "Let me see those binoculars." Antonio handed them to him and he put them against his eyes, "Alferez, have you ever wondered about a Spain finally unified? I have dreamt it since the day I became an officer in His Majesty's army. We should have taken the opportunity in 1940, but now is our new opportunity. We have France behind us, and we have the Russias behind us. Destiny is ours to take. Soon the legion will me marching through the streets of the Gibraltar." He smiled as he said that, and then he handed the binoculars back to Antonio and patted him on the back, "Tell me if anything interesting happens. If nothing does the Gibraltar will be ours in two weeks."

Antonio could see it in his eyes that he was absolutely serious. Finally, the spine had returned to Spain. In two weeks Spain would launch the largest European operation since the end of the Second World War, pitting around seventy thousand frontline men against Portugal and the Gibraltar, unifying the peninsula once and for all - completing the reconquista. Antonio looked behind him as the general walked away towards his wheeled reconnaissance vehicle, and then rolled off, and he took the binoculars to look at Algeciras this time. It was merely a speck in his eyes, even while zoomed, but he could see the thin outline of armoured fighting vehicles, including the new Pizarros, outside the city. Nothing strange, of course - Spanish vehicles had always been around there - it was historical, and it was a ferrying point, along with other towns on the Gibraltar peninsula, between Ceuta and the rest of Spain. Finally.

Straits of Gibraltar, Spanish Waters
The Príncipe de Asturias majestically made her way through the narrow straits and into the Atlantic. Based in Cadiz she was in a perfect position to throw her weight around in North Africa, the eastern Atlantic, or the Western Mediterranean, and now she was paired with the Aragón, the newest carrier in the Spanish arsenal, making Spain the largest carrier force in Europe after France and the United Kingdom. Soon enough she would mirror the former, while the latter would fall into the abyss of failure. But for now Spain would display what she had, two small carriers and a great multitude of frigate sized ships, as well as a very advance diesel submarine force. She wasn't exactly up for battle against the navies of the United States, China or the Progressives, but she was superior to anything the Portuguese could defend with, and along with French aide she was superior to the Royal Navy [as long as the French aide was there, mind you]. The Aragón was behind her, and the entire fleet left Cádiz as it should - with escorts and everything. All five Alvaro de Bazán class frigates had been given escort duties, along with all six F-80s. The only thing left to patrol the Gibraltar were the two F-70s; older, but still capable over the Moroccons. The M-11 Díana, a mine warfare vessel, was also present, as well as the Catabria and Patiño replishment ships. This was a real war fleet; this was not a small operation.

The Príncipe de Asturias, as the flagship, was hosting a conference between the greater commandants of the fleet, discussing how to proceed through the war. Admiral Cervera took a look at the charts of the area and he looked at those around him and asked, "Any ideas?"

His second in command, executive officer Rodriguez Tejero, balled his mouth pensatively and then said, "A blocking manuever would be best." Cervera nodded and Tejero explained, "Frankly, once we take Lisbon the Azores are ours. There's no need to waste precious material operating somewhere where we don't have land based aerial assets to protect us, and where our potential foes have more ability to do harm to us. If we set up a blocking manuever outside the straits, Atlantic side, we block any British reinforcements, with much stronger French assets to reinforce us, and we make sure the British deployments in the Gibraltar can't leave before we sink them. It's the easiest way to do the most damage to our direct enemies, the British. They're the only ones in the beginning of the war that can possibly do us harm."

Fortunately, there wasn't much to deal with in the Gibraltar. The British naval deployment there had always been rather low after Spain had joined NATO in the 80s, but the strategy was still sound. Admiral Cervera expressed his agreement, "True enough, and I think this is what we will do. The army says they will take the Gibraltar within the day, meaning that when it's taken we can simply move the fleet north to block off Lisbon. Nothing major, nothing complex, and we shorten the length of the war. We'll continue to refine this through the coming two weeks, but how does that sound?" The others muttered their agreement.

It was set. The Spanish fleet would set sail once again. The newly designated armada was ordered to move out of Cadiz for the day, and the international newspapers were told that they were preparing for possible war with the progressives. In other words, military trials. French naval deployments were under the same justification. War with the progressives was very possible, and it only made sense that the new Holy League naval power prepare itself for possible cooperation with her northern allies. However, the fleet was ordered to return to Cadiz once the French had arrived. Officially, the naval wargames would begin within two weeks. The entire 'game' had been mapped out for the newspapers and official government reports, and it showed that most of the action would commence around the Canary Islands, just south of Madeira and due west of the Moroccon coast. In the end it would be the naval deployments which would give Spain away the fastest.

Algeciras, Spain
The short train made a screeching halt into the civilian station. The locomotive was carrying around four hundred men belonging to the battalion being set up to move into the Gibraltar. They would all sleep in civilian housing, lacking barracks and lacking the justification to build one without alerting the British to the reasons for their sudden presence. In other words, it was simply easiest to make sure their presence was unknown. When the time came they would be sent by train to La Linea the day before the operation, and they would have to go guns blazing into the Gibraltar with what they carried with them on the train. Their armoured fighting vehicles would arrive an hour after the beginning of the operation. The entire deployment was rather miniscule, compared to the deployments being completed on the Portuguese border in a less clandestine manner, but it would be enough to overwhelm the regiment protecting the English territory, especially with all the naval support the battalion would get. If it got too dangerous another battalion could be flown in from Ceuta, stabbing the British in the rear.

Dacio Santiago looked nervous as he stepped off the train. He was pushed into a civilian autorres [large, 'luxury' bus], along with about a hundred other soldiers, and then it began to clunk through the town - dropping them all off at their respective housing. As the bus passed by the streets he could see young Spanish children playing around unmoving Spanish Pizarro infantry fighting vehicles. It was so surreal. He could not believe that he would take part in Spain's greatest military operation since the wars in South America during the early 19th century and throughout the 18th century. It would certainly be the first attempt to conquer a new territory since 1588 - all of the rest of Spain's wars were to keep already conquered lands. Except, of course, Franco's occupation of Tangiers in 1940. But that was hardly something to compare to. Spain would once again be a world power.

((Just a note: Spain isn't in NATO. NATO was formed only around, what, the early '90s? Its membership included the British, Quinntonians, Hudecians, and Roycelandians. Walmington has now quit the organisation after Hudecian introspection and Roycelandian association with the Holy League rendered it pretty well void. I'll now repost part of something, since it has more significance here.))

More than three centuries after the capture of Gibraltar and almost as many years since official recognition of the fact in the Treaty of Utrecht, Walmingtonian presence on the Rock remains firmly rooted. Fears of Spanish moves towards the Holy League were answered by a more than 99% conviction across the population that London should not even discuss the possibility of any form of shared sovereignty or administration of the little place, and any assault of the winding and climbing roads will find that probably the twelve score wild monkeys are the least likely of all thirty thousand residents to throw feces at the attackers.

With the Tories gone, British warplanes are once again on station at Gibraltar's airfield, along with Rapier and Starstreak air defence missiles. RAF Typhoon are joined by Harrier IV and even a flight of Tornado IDS, while the Royal Gibraltar Regiment expands to include Home Guard amongst its traditional local volunteer element. The battleship Courageous has visited Gibraltar only recently, en route to the east coast of southern Africa, where she will cover the exit of Royal Army forces, and RN nuclear submarines continue to dock on a regular basis.

Still, minor changes in Gibraltar's defences are secondary to wider defence strategy, and lately British diplomats have been arriving in Lisbon for wide-ranging talks. Six hundred and twenty years since the Treaty of Windsor first associated Britain and Portugal on a basis of alliance, Walmington is quite prepared to forget glitches such as de Salazar's dictatorship as consigned to the rubbish bin of an otherwise grand history.

The Whig government in Britain is seeking to replace some lost continental trade by increasing commercial ties to Portugal, and talks are under-way to assure a pact of mutal defence for Portugal and Gibraltar, citing threats from, "Spain, Roycelandia, the Holy League and as well associate and proxy forces there of".

Pen has not yet met paper in this arena, but London's hope is to see Portugal's shores opened to Walmingtonian forces in opposition to any invasion of Gibraltar, with the support of Europe's largest navy granted to the depleted power of Lisbon should Portugal be instead the victim of such aggression.

Now...

After their enhancement under the Bull government, Walmington's Mediterranean bases of Akrotiri and Dhekelia saw every bit as much build-up as Gibraltar (where more than a decade of extra land reclamation had improved civil and military provisions) under the Whig government.

The Naval Service was forever sending auxiliary ships, frigates, and destroyers back and forth between Cyprus and Britain, via Gibraltar, and the amphibian HMS Ocean was frequently used in bringing aircraft to both Mediterranean territories.

At Gibraltar, spies could easily observe the raising of the Home Guard in response to army downsizing and Holy League expansion. Since less than one hundred of Gibraltar's voters were prepared even to allow London to discuss the issue of shared ownership of the rock and its surrounds, the amature defence organisation had no shortage of keen recruits, happy to work the bolts their 7.62x51mm Enfield rifles in shooting exercises on days off. The rattle of automatic Sterling and Bren fire also sounded off the rock's slopes and over the sea, but, these things aside, Gibraltar moved on more or less as if the Whigs hadn't won the last election, largely shielded from reforms on the mainland that may not have gone down so well in the very different local economy.

In Britain, the launch of HMS Glorious was attracting more attention than on-going talks and defence contracts with Portugal, giving as she did a second battleship to the Royal Navy and a sister for Courageous. The renaming of two Queen Elizabeth III Class fleet carriers attracted some attention, since it was said to be a close precursor to the commission of a fourth hull, which was expected to join Queen Elizabeth III and the renamed Alfred the Great and King Athelstan as HMS Godfrey Grâce à Dieu. King George was the name reserved for the hull gradually taking shape on the Clyde, while materials newly being gathered in the northeast of England would some distant day take the shape of Ark Royal to complete a class that could be outmatched only by Quinntonia and perhaps the Chinese.

Then, contrary to recent global trends to military intervention without warning and dogmatic public ravings, London dispatched a representative to Madrid, newest associate of the Holy League, to test the water.

No typical diplomat or even government minister, the man chosen was Sir Henry Chaspot Wayne, adventurer, bounder, and billionaire, and man who may as well have been born Roycelandian. His ridiculous wealth -not to mention hard old-imperial reputation, he was said to have much African blood on his hands dating back to a time when Harare was Salisbury- was meant to be indicative of Walmington's serious regard for Spanish importance. Not to mention a reference to Walmingtonian strength and the wisdom of distance from some of the League's more counter-diplomatic practices. Sir Henry was to talk vaguely about business ties between the two nations, Gibraltar's recent democratic assertions to Britishness and the status of Spanish claims, and to assuage any Spanish concerns about Britain's defence pacts with Portugal and any perceived attempt by London to alter the balance of power in Iberia.

All the while Walmington was continuing to return sixty thousand soldiers from southern Africa to Europe.

[tag]

Le Grand Trianon, Versailles

While the majority of the French Court enjoyed a magnificent Congress in Rome, the War Ministry under its vigorous new leader le Comte de Broglie held an emergency session in Le Grand Trianon, a large palace on Versailles’ grounds.

In sync with their Spanish brethren, the ministers and marechals formulated a plan for major French naval and aerial actions to defend the upcoming Spanish offensive. Halfway through the conference, a communiqué directly from His Most Christian Majesty in Rome informed the Ministry to prepare France for a total war economy in anticipation of the Iberian and African campaigns. Thousands of orders were drawn up, and press gangs were set up. The communiqué called for a muster of ‘all French youth’ to engage in one of histories greatest struggles.

Quote His Majesty Louis-Auguste: “No action in Africa will be possible until Philip has the Iberian to himself and controls Gibraltar.”

The realms aerial defense network was activated, and air raid drills were common. Britain would not be underestimated.

To Britain no declaration was issued, everything needed to be said having been done so by M. de Vergennes in Rome.

Propaganda was ratcheted up against the British, citing them as a communist power in the heart of Europe, whose sole goal was to destroy the Catholic faith. In a word, Godfrey III (titled Chairman Windsor in the films) became nothing short of an anti-Christ. Needles to say, with the most effective film industry in the Holy League, this propaganda was soon everywhere from Seville to Siberia to Depkazia.

Cadiz

While the Royal Vanguard Legion and infantry elements dispatched to the Pacific returned to thunderous welcomes in Marseilles, the Royal Navy Fleet entered with no less pomp into Cadiz.

Two Cherbourg super-battleships, one aircraft carrier, seven Marseilles class light cruisers and eight Brest class frigates would shield the Spanish efforts from any British intervention. Several Nantes class attack submarines supported the fleet.

Another fleet was being assembled in Cherbourg as well, no less potent, and one Cherbourg class battleship, the Louis-Auguste was being especially prepared in Marseilles for a bombardment effort…most likely against The Rock.

And in Marseilles, the one-hundred thousand strong Vanguard Legion would rest, no doubt before launching into an epic African expedition.

Additionally, huge flights of French bombers now conducted active missions, with three full wings of Roycelandian bought strategic bombers now active, with Spanish craft on practice runs for the coming conflict.

The considerable Naval activity on the Gibraltar Strait was enough to make the Moroccans extremely nervous. With Elias naval vessels and sometimes large battle groups frequently transiting the strait, leaving and returning from deployments to Belize, Morocco and elsewhere, the Spanish forces will be noticed almost immediately. The question in both the Elias and Moroccan chains of command is to what their purpose might be. There were three possibilities, to support an assault on Gibraltar, on Portugal or on Morocco. With recent political changes in London, UE had little inclination to risk with war with the Holy League over Gibraltar as it once might have done. Morocco was quite a different proposition and any moves against the Kingdom would certainly have resulted in UE mobilising in its defence, which would have also involved the invasion of French Algeria. At a time when the Holy League is already facing a crisis in East Asia, it seems unlikely that would be case. Quickly, it is decided that the UE Ambassador in Madrid should seek and audience with the King and ask for assurances that Spain would never attack Morocco, or the situation could spiral out of control rather easily to the mutual detriment of the Holy League and United Elias, and which would certainly be beneficial to the Progressives.

Spain's move to the Holy League is greeted with glumness in Yugoslavia and the Lavragerian Republic. Increasing French armament, significantly in acquiring bombers, did not go down well, but certainly helped to inspire action after resignation. Depkazia's association with the league was less a security risk in itself, but did offer an avenue for some action that felt worth-while.

In quite recent days during which Depkazia considered Russia a potential enemy, Yugoslavia's Bulgarian factories were employed to refurbish Depkazi MiG-29s. These were now impounded, and the possibility arose of their incorporation into Yugoslav defences as L-18 short-range interceptors.

More depressing, though, is the withdrawal of Yugoslav assets from Depkazia, where hopes had been high for nuclear and 'alternative warfare' research co-operation. Attempts are made to ship-out tank upgrades on trial in the Depkazi desert, but remaining skeleton staff have orders to prepare examples for destruction in the event of any attempt to stop the extraction.

Back in Europe, the small Yugoslav People's Army Navy began to increase training operations in both the Adriatic and the Black Sea, and Serbian YPA units were redeployed to Slovenia, along the Austrian and Italian frontiers.

Larionko Aidarov warns that a return of war in Europe will not end beneficially for anyone, and remains hopefull that increasing HL armament, answered in Britain, will not draw-in the rest of the continent.

(OOC: It's a shame that Russia's player remains busy, because the Lavragerian Republic is stuck in heavily-armed limbo while the HL is free to continue addressing matters on the rest of the continent. This has been a long-winded not-much-we-can-do-about-it tag.)

((I agree Yugo, Im so sorry man. What can we do? Id almost suggest turning Wingert over to AC. I mean, an absence is one thing, but a bi monthly void?))

Rome

Though the Holy League Congress consumed the great majority of his time, nevertheless M. de Maurepas, His Most Christian Majesties Prime Minister, being directly informed to do so by the crown sent a series of dispatches to United Elias. It was, of course, an ultra secret communication, with only Holy League, Roycelandian and Elian’s being informed:

Rest assured His Catholic Majesty has no moves to take Morocco, neither does King Louis I in Algeria wish conflict. Our goal is West Africa, and that we shall take for ourselves. We are appreciative in your neutral stance, and hope that such non-aggression will foster trade abounding. Remember, we shall soon be in possession of West Africa again, both Houses of Bourbon. If you wish, a non-aggression pact can indeed be signed. M. de Maurepas.

Versailles

With the Congress looking as though the amendments and charter would soon be ratified, a trickling returning Court saw the Ministry of M. de Broglie grow omnipotent. Plans were drawn up for naval actions in the north, and massive invasions to seize the near entirety of former French West Africa.

The War Ministry was now given increasing control of the economy, and the Champs des Mars in Paris saw hundreds of thousands of young men gather for enlistment in the Gardes Francaises. A fact the Royal propaganda service never failed to mention was that the expected ‘one million’ man army would not even require conscription. The absolute monarchy in France now reigned supreme.

The Pacific troops, the Royal Vanguard Legion and other forces, were greeted with huzzahs and ribbons, and a much needed two week leave. King Louis-Auguste’s domain girded for war, with glorious prospects: first help Philip take the Iberian, and then a joint move into resource rich West Africa. And when the Holy League controlled West Africa, they could support their military power, and create the strongest internal economies on earth.

Roycelandia, of course, was invited to participate as well.

The Franco-Spanish Border

The Holy League’s open border policy gave rise to trains thundering southwards. Huge amounts of munitions and material were being shipped to Spain, from siege mortars to nerve gasses.

If the Spanish are attempting to be subtle, they have lain in bed with the wrong partner, and Gallic wailing is soon heard in London and in echoes from the Rock. Spain's association with the HL along with French build-up and movement of French material into Iberia serves only to quicken Lisbon-London negotiations and see Walmingtonian frigates and destroyers docked at Gibraltar and at Portugal's ports.

RAF Typhoon on Cyprus, Gibraltar, and the British Isles become a major focus of much Walmy propaganda in answer to French cinematic treacle and codswallop, with the Rafale-beating fighter represented as Spitfire of the C21st, helping RAF recruitment no end: if the shopkeepers had no particular reason to hate Germany before they signed up in the millions, old enemy France is sure to cause the bursting of recruitment offices, and Spain, well, documentaries air on BBC1 in reference to Spain's long-forgotten invasion of the south coast and its soldiers' description of the Protestant's mosques before their inevitable retreat across the sea.

King Godfrey III, in a public address, assures the nation that an understanding between civilised peoples indicates that Europe is safe, and that France will not meddle with Walmingtonian's European domains any more than Walmington would try to retake Normandy or Aquitaine.

To calm the nerves of the population, at least in Britain and Newry, the King said, "The French King knows full well that his power rests on diplomacy more than force of arms. In arms his entire association of continental friendship is outmatched by a single Indian or Chinese power, and the Russian Tsar knows this just as well. Our neighbours know that the garden of Europe is no place for warfare, and remember well that twice in living memory has Walmington been vital to French independence from German occupation.

"The prosperity of the Holy League, and the complicity of its tightly controlled population, is dependent upon the non-interference of Walmington with the civil, political, and, most critically, the economic affairs of the continent and Roycelandia.

"Any military action in Europe initiated by the League against Walmington would assuredly be the first chapter in the downfall of that alliance, if it is not indeed also the very last."

The real message in Godfrey's speech was a reminder that the continent was not safe because Britannia could not touch it, but because she did not touch it.

While remembering and realising the facts and significance of Walmington's voluntary lack of a bomber command and such offensive forces in Europe, the continentals must realise that war with Walmington means explosions in Paris, commandos in Siberia, and death in the steets of Valencia, and most certainly the ruin of economies and the collapse of a despot's support amongst his subjects.

There is no such thing as war with a British dominion, nor a British ally.

((::sketches line in the sand::, so, while we prepare for war, I just wanted to know I posted a complete run down of the Royal Navy on the s9 boards, wth RAF and Army next. Pictures too. Ill let Spain take the reaction to that last post however.))

Television Española, Satellite Transmission
King Phillip VI was dressed in his white military uniform, his left breast arrayed with an impressive amount of ribbons and other decorations, and no less than four medals hanging from the right. He had, of course, never seen war, but it made an impression upon his own people and the people of foreign nations. There was no preperations to be made and the cameras soon focused in on the king. Finally, he began his adress, this time oriented towards the United Kingdom. He had no papers, he would speak straight from a military perspective, and he would drive his point through.

"Mis cuidadanos, soldados de España, our entrance into the most powerful bloc in the world, the Holy League, has been meet with threats, and one threat overbears them all. The British have dared to reaffirm their alliance with Portugal as if it's their business what happens in the Iberian Peninsula. We have done nothing to provoke them. Admittently, as you all well should know, there has been troop build ups on the border, but that is only natural. When China embargoes our goods and countries like the United Kingdom threaten us, should it not be within our right to deploy men that are meant to the protect us? It looks like the only instigators in this war are the British! And I, as king of Spain, will have absolutely nothing to do with this. I will not respect an English attempt to reaffirm their supremacy over continental business, let alone Iberian matters. And you, as citizens of Spain, should support this through and through! It is your destiny, and it is your right!"

He paused for three seconds to recollect his ideas. He would press the issue home, and he would provide the inertia needed to give the gears of war enough momentum to make war inevitable. The English thought they could still play war in Europe. They were dead wrong. In the previous wars they had not faced a united continental Europe. In this war they would face the entire power of the Russias, France and Spain. It looked as if Austria was soon to join as well. It would only be a matter of time before the continental powers swept over the English isles, and it would be England's fault. Their own attempt to still control the 'balance of powers' would be their own demise.

"This is an ultimatum. Should the British continue to build up numbers on the peninsula I will have no choice but to issue a war with the United Kingdom. They are the belligerents and they are the instigators. It will be our crusade for peace and stability on the Iberian Peninsula. This time we will rid our homeland from their unwanted 'aid'. We will drive home the point that Britain is no longer a power."

The speech would continue throughout the rest of the night, although most of which was directed to the English was finished. It wasn't meant to be long, it was meant to be dramatic. To prove that Spain was more than ready to go to war with a country she thought to be obsolete in this age of continental unity. Phillip would also adress United Elias, promising continued peace with Morocco should Morocco promise the same in return. It was Morocco during the years of the democracy that had so many times begun war, including the Morrocan build up after the druken occupation of Perejil by three Morrocan citizens. But nevertheless, Phillip did not have his eyes on Morocco - at least yet. In any case, politics were unravelling faster than he could make his moves and it seemed that Morocco would never be on his list. A pity, but there were more enticing targets now - targets that wouldn't threaten war with a nation that alone could tumble the Holy League.

It would not be bombs over Valencia, Paris and Moscow that one would have to worry about. It would be the annihalation of London as a European city.

Ourense's Industrial Polygon, Galicia
The plant manager's eyes widened when the soldier told him his orders. Not since the Spanish Civil War had something on this scale been done. He was told to keep it secret, and to avoid beginning the project until three days before the invasion started, where it would be far too late for the British to react successfully. Nevertheless, it proved that Spain was up to something in the Iberian Peninsula. He had been ordered to begin full scale production, something Spain would only do should it be threatened by a war that it could not handle otherwise. This would include the production of some four hundred Leopards a month, which was rediculous given that only 319 Leopards had been delivered over a time table of years prevvy. But ever since the usurpation of the throne by Phillip VII the industrial polygons had been expanded with money from government subsidies, and more factories sprung up throughout Galicia, Euskadi and even places were previously there had been litte, like Castilla la Mancha, Castilla y León and Andalucia. It was now more than obvious. Since the beginning of his reign Phillip VII had prepared for the reunification of the Iberian Peninsula, and how it seemed as if he would finally realize his dream.

The soldier then adressed another issue, "How goes the project?"

The manager of Santa Bárbara Sistemas nodded, "Well. We truly have a heavy tank worth the name. The world had thought the Leopard 2A6 superior, but we have merged it with the future Leclerc 2010. Should the Holy League adopt it as their newest main battle tank then we should truly have a weapon to fear."

"Production will begin?" The soldier pushed.

The manager chuckled, "Rome was not built in a day, sir, like the legend suggests. We still have a good month of ironing out the details. This tank will not be ready for this war. That's assuming this war proves to be .... short. If not, then perhaps."

Proyecto Ocelote [Ocelot] was the future main battle tank of Spain, and perhaps the rest of the Holy League. It used the same armour as the Leopard 2E, adding the appliqué as modular armour installed on the turret, offering superior thickness to all current main battle tanks, but it included several of the newer features of the planned Leclerc 2010, including the a superior Galix active protection system, roof mounted appliqué explosive reactive armour tiles, and better electronic equipment. The entire system was built around protection. The design of the main battle tank was constantly a battle between protection, mobility and firepower. This would sacrifice nothing.

Highway N-4, Badajoz-Lisbon
The twelve Leopard 2Es of Captain Heliodoro Vidal sat silently somewhat away from the Portuguese border. In response to the deployment of the entire 1st Cavalry Brigade to Badajoz and sorrounding villages the Portuguese had mobilised the 3rd Cavalry Regiment to the area, and the 2nd Lancers Regiment had been moved east from Libson to provide a blocking force to stop any Spanish advance towards the capital. The 4th Cavalry Regiment had been provided as a mobile strategic reserve in the area, putting ¾ of Portuguese armour in the Lisbon sector. The north received the 6th Cavalry Regiment, and Portugal was preparing to arm reservists and conscripts with whatever they had left, including old M60s. The Portuguese military was very capable, just not up to par with the refurbished and larger Spanish military, especially since Spain had opted to replace all their M60s and AMX-30s with the vaunted Leopard 2E. Spain's modernisation of her armed forces during the turn of the millenium would deal serious damage to the still poorly armed Portuguese military. Admittently, Portugal had always relied on the United Kingdom and Spain for her protection. It seemed like an ironic, and rather unfortunate, turn of events.

Nevertheless, with British aid over the horizon Portugal looked as if she would resist. For that reason the Spaniards had coupled their armour with the 1st Mechanised Division, hoping to outflank and simply overwhelm the Portuguese defenses with head on breakthroughs. The north would be struck by the 2nd Mechanised Infantry Division, and the south would be hit by two battalions of the Foreign Legion, which would cut a swath through southern Portugal to make their way northwards. An additional cavalry brigade was formed out of the ninety AMX-30s that were planned for decomissioning, as well as another two hundred M60s that were planned to be replaced. The last two hundred upgraded M60s were placed into a reserve unit named the armoured strike group, which would provide valuable armoured help wherever it was needed, including the north. All in all, Spain had around seven hundred to nine hundred tanks to rely on. She also had over a hundred strike aircraft, including around ninety Eurofighter Typhoons. It was by far time for Spain to show how well her modernised forces could do in a European landscape. All of this in less than seven days.

The plan was rather simple. Overwhelming pressure would be placed on the N-4, which would lead to the E90. From there they would enter southern Lisbon, and then have to cross the bridge into main Lisbon. The 1st Mechanised Division was to attack towards the north, arching around the Bay of Bispo and cutting off Lisbon from the north. In other words, they were designing an encirclement around the city, where the defending armour would be pushed northwards and westwards until it was fully encircled and consequently destroyed. The northern thrusts would be minor and more diversionary than anything realistic. Spanish forces would push until they occupied the more important industrial sectors of Northern Portugal, using air power to their advantage, and the southern advance would be something to fall back on if the central operation faltered. Units coming from the south would be able to reinforce the armoured brigade if needed, and there was always the strike group on reserve duties.

If the British were to put unbearable numbers of troops in Portugal before the start of the war, which was something not very likely to happen seeing as the territorial divisions were needed on the island, and there was no possible way the British could plan such heavy deployments overseas in the just matter of days before the invasion began, Madrid would most likely begin to request French divisions to aid in the invasion to fully overwhelm any British garrisons. In other words, this would prove to be another Norway for the English if they chose to defend a lost cause. It would begin dark days over the English Army.

Mumbai

As the Holy League is no doubt well aware, it does not take very much to send the Unioners' Ministry of Defense into a wild panic. Days ago convinced that war on the Iberian Peninsula was highly likely, the MoD is now absolutely certain that the Holy League will try to invade Portugal and Gibraltar at the very least, and within the month. West Africa's terrible fragility is also deeply frightening, and although much of those countries have experienced the return of democracy and economic growth, the whole trade bloc combined probably can't defend itself all too well. The fall of Nigeria, for starters, demonstrated West Africa's lack of military ability or commitment to collective defense. But Parliament isn't about to crawl into the corner and hide. A quarter of the INA's Southeast Asian Expeditionary Force, consisting of one parachute regiment and one marine regiment, is held back for possible deployment to West Africa or Portugal, along with No.1 Squadron and No.5 Squadron and the refurbished Broadsword-Class Frigate INS Ambajogai.

Parliament is more than ready to honor its pledge to defend Gibraltar and Portugal alongside Great Walmington, and has plenty of confidence in the nation that has been able to beat-away the ravishing hands of continental dictatorships for the past 450 years. Austria, that landlocked nation of just over eight million, is dismissed as perhaps the ultimate paper tiger, and nobody in Mumbai can see how Vienna thinks it can make anything close to an impact on the world scene while considerably more powerful Yugoslavia sits just across the border.

Returning from the Pacific, the Royal Vanguard Legion would retire to Marseilles, save several divisions that would be scheduled for redeployment in Algiers. The Royal Dauphin Corps, France’s elite heavy infantry shock corps, was deployed to Barcelona, in case the Spanish effort needed assistance.

The French Second Fleet, fresh from the Pacific, would restock in Cadiz. How majestic the ships of the Twain Bourbon Houses side by side, shining white. They were on twenty-four hour notice, and the ODSE ran high profile flights and patrols along the Bay of Biscay.

The Louis-Auguste, however, remained in Marseilles, being prepared for heavy bombardment operations.

The King’s call for a huge standing army was met with four-hundred thousand youths finding their way to the Champs des Mars in Paris, where huge tent complexes were set up to indoctrinate them.

Rails bustled as the order came down from the Most Christian King himself that France, under its dynamic new ‘war-god’ le Duc de Broglie, would prepare for a total war. This included a full calling up of the reserves, and the formation of press gangs just in case.

The Marechaussee, the Secret State French Police, interned anyone suspected of anglo sympathies or relations. Propaganda was ratcheted up yet again, with a clear theme: If we can beat the British, then the sky is the limit.”

Quote a Holy League propaganda film “Walmington is a viper in the heart of Europe, but lo Michael Militant comes with a hot iron to scourge it.”

OCC: NG, I encourage you to hold off on that for the time being. We're currently discussing something on the Invision forums that might make invading NPC countries a much less straightforeward affair. I'd also personally like to see somebody RPing the West African states that are currently under Versailles' guns, since under ECOWAS Protocol on Mutual Defense Assistance, Article 2, "Member States declare and accept that any armed threat or aggression directed against any Member State shall constitute a threat or aggression against the entire community."

Perhaps the corrupt individuals in many of these countries would like to become French vassals for the payoff, but ECOMOG is still not absolutely inclined to sit idly by. If the ANP eggs ECOWAS on, perhaps with a mixture of rhetoric and promises that present heads of state and military chiefs won't be prosecuted, it could turn into a fight.

So let's mabye put a moratorium on offensive action until we have the armament situation (I doubt countries would sit around and wait to be screwed while the French built-up forces on the border) and the political situation worked out, and until we have players for all the NPC nations that are about to be invaded.

I noticed, and am happy to oblige, Ill amend my earlier post. But this has nothing to do with The Rock.

That RP, taking the Rock, can continue on unabated.

[OOC: I'm aware that Walmington might want to get some deployments finished before any invasion actually begins, so this might push the time foward a bit. Nevertheless, fluid time is your friend. In any case, from an OOC standpoint, what exactly do you have deployed at the Rock?]

Algeciras, España
Lieutenant Alberto del Río didn't mask the pounding of his boots on the ceramic flooring of the house. He had to round up his entire squad from the three houses they were sleeping in. Briskly making his way to their rooms he knocked loudly on the door, and he could see the soldiers jolt as their ears translated the sound wavelengths into, "It's time to get the hell up." He watched as the eleven soldiers lathargically prepared themselves, grabbing their G36Es, or light squad machineguns, or whatever other weapon they were deployed with. Within eight minutes they were out the door, leaving the local families less than enough money to compensate them for damage to the house, food and funds for enough cleaning utensils to clean the soldier's mess. But at this point there was simply not enough time to calculate how much such rubbish would cost. The lieutenant made his squad jog the entire way to the train station, and once there they were forced to wait for at least half an hour until they were ready to board one of the trains to La Linea.

Del Río looked around him, noticing that the train on the other rail was stocking their Pizarro infantry fighting vehicles, and he noticed something that had not been there before and must have been sent recently. At least a whole armoured battalion was already loaded up on the train, covered by felt blankets to mask their presence, although by the morning it would all be too obvious. Nevertheless, by morning it would be far too late. The armour were the older upgraded M60s; at least thirty of them. They would provide the armour to move down the Rock, giving invaluable infantry support against what were most likely well trained English infantry. He could also see small 105mm howitzers being packed on to the train, prepared to make their way to La Linea. He sighed and looked at this squad, "Tomorrow morning Spain will not be the same."

He was absolutely correct. The battalion was moving out. Around six hundred men were being moved by rail around twenty miles to La Linea, where they would immediately deploy to the neutral demilitarized zone and by 0300 hours launch the operation which would bring the last British fortress on the Iberian Peninsula to its knees. There had been a change of plan along with this. Their vehicles were going to make it at the same time, and fuel and ammunition stocks had already been prepared at La Linea de la Concepción over the span of the two weeks worth of deployments. In tandem with ground operations the east coast of Algeciras had been split up between six seperate artillery pits, each containing a bettery of eight 155mm pieces ready to hit the Gibraltar's naval yards and strategic garrisons within the city proper. One of the major targets was North Front Airport, but that wouldn't be targetted by the artillery at Algeciras. In any case, there was a reserve company of legionairres waiting in Algeciras, along with enough Blackhawks to transport them to the southern tip of the Gibraltar once the British air defenses had been supressed.

The entire operation would be fast and bloody. El Tercio was the Bridegroom of Death, and this would be their shining opportunity to prove just how much they believed in this. They were ordered to bulge into the Rock, kill whatever got in their way, and take it. Casualties were not an issue. Once the Rock was Spain's there was no way the British would take it back. To support the battalion and company and entire squadron of Eurofighter Typhoons were prepared at Sevilla to run missions along with the air arm of Harrier IIs on the Príncipe de Asturias and Aragón. Unfortunately, after the war the Harrier II would have to be phased out with a new aircraft, possibly a naval variant of the Rafael, if France wanted to undertake such a project, or an all new Spanish fighter - although that would be far too expensive to take as an immediate route. In any case, that would be reserved for the future. Sevilla was also delivering two squadrons of F/A-18A/B Hornets, which were normally naval attack aircraft but this time prepared to take off a conventional airfield for operations over the straits. Spain's sole P-3 was also operating out of Cadiz, along with a Casa C.212. The T.17 Boeing 707-300 was refurbished for transport duties and would be used to deliver packages of depth charges to 'carpet bomb' the Gibraltan port when the time came. The British submarines could not leave the port.

[OOC: Sorry UE, missed the ambassador's attempt for reassurances. I will get to that once Walmington posts, if he needs to, along with the beginning of Iron West!]

OOC- I have like a thousand things I want to post, but were getting bogged down I think. Walmington, its up to you.

And FYI, the French fleet, the one having left Palawan, will be arriving in Cadiz ere long at all.

Mayhap thats where the British response can begin.

((On some brief consideration I have concluded that reference to the Royal Gibraltar Regiment was possibly misleading. In AMW, cramming in early Whig administration, the Chaffin government, and Bull's (both of these lasting two terms), it is safe to assume that (with general elections falling at different times) Bull followed Thatcher and the Major years... well, no great loss! In order for Chaffin and Bull to have fitted after Thatcher, whose legacy was important to BID and everything that followed, not to mention to other nations such as with the end of the Principality in India, the BID party appears to have come to power around the start of the 1990s, which I think was broadly the assumption. As such, the British Army garrison on Gibraltar was probably not withdrawn as, under the Tories, it was in reality, at which point the regiment's status changed. I'll slip into character to update the state of defences following-on from this...))


With Chief Minister the Lady Maltby suggesting in the friendliest refrain that, "...if Spain can no longer bear the indignity felt in graceful acceptance of a civilised treaty, then perhaps they should like to give-back Minorca" and Colonel Square abusing the brave volunteer maggots, who, having signed-up with the Royal Gibraltar Regiment's dependent Home Guard unit, were, "not worthy of weilding a pigsticker!", the life of a Governor and Commander-in-Chief on the rock was not an easy one.

Sir Viirgil Tempest Pollock looked out on streets along which not a one of several thousand windows and balconies had been left wanting for a flag, be it the Union Flag, the Royal Standard of the House of Walmington, or the key and castle of Gibraltar. He could hear the booming shouts of a a Sergeant Major and the clatter of boots and buttstocks, the sqarking chatter of barbary apes, and the occasional tooting of a car horn as the echo was drawn up through the streets and tunnels on and before the famous rock. No submarines in the Z berths, today, but a vessel from the Royal Fleet Auxiliary on her way into port after a rendevouz with warships off Cyprus.

Sir Viirgil checked his pocketwatch for the fourth time in twelve minutes. He was expecting inbound aircraft.

Below him, his British Army garrison was a little more than three thousand officers and men, and the Gibraltar Regiment -which Godfrey had just recently titled Royal- having replaced the Gibraltar Defence Force half a century ago, added a battalion of reserve infantry drawn from the local population and from regular army regiments so far away as the Wendsleybury Islands, along with an artillery troop, while the Home Guard made available another whole battalion in numbers and spirit if not much else.

The Governor was called back inside, but only to hear that difficulties continued as feared.

Since the rise of the Holy League, Gibraltar had risen in importance, a trend helped by the growth of the Royal Navy and then by the French annexation of Algeria. Bull worked to enhance its potential with land reclamation, expanding airbase facilities and fortifications, and Chaffin, contrary to norms suggested by the last Tory government, had actually increased the size of the British Army. The Whigs had cut-back the army (and were now dumping small arms and ammunition on Lisbon and marking some crateloads for a trip to the Orient), but, fearing Spanish association with the Holy League -it wasn't exactly hard to see the Catholic Kingdom going the way of its biggest neighbour as at least a strategic liability- the rock suffered no such privations.

Plans had been put-foward for the emergency evacuation of Gibraltar's civilian population in readiness for siege or assault, but, in practice, this was a sticking point. Apart from the fact that many people wouldn't want to go, and that twenty-seven thousand was an awful lot of people, Gibraltar enjoyed a fair degree of autonomy, and, worse yet, the opposition back in Britain was often keen to undermine the radical Whigs by promoting fear on the rock in respect of Mainwaring's economic reforms. It looked like uprooting the populace on shaky legal and diplomatic authority without absolute certainty of a coming assault, and brutal one at that, would be politically difficult as well as a logistical challenge.

But with Spain in the League and France on the rampage and moving forces to the region, and bearing in mind what they'd done to Lavrageria; and then how they'd treated a white Christian royal, executing him without trial, as Governor and Commander-in-Chief, Sir Viirgil was, as he saw it, a man terribly ill at ease on a rock surrounded by the huddling mass of his children, brave-faced though they remain, for their peril. And the government wasn't enough in a wartime mentality to do what was required, as he said in a letter to the PM himself...

----------

On the high seas, the fact that France's fleet and a ridiculously large troop transport convoy -even if its passengers must have been most fatigued- was impossible to ignore. That it was moving under Roycelandian escort was interesting, and left the possibility that it could be delayed by making the Roycelandians choose whether or not to open-fire on British assets to further French interests that apparently included hostility to Gibraltar. Sir Viirgil may be frustrated by politicians and their failure to take a firm hand and secure the rock, but at least something was happening. Royal Navy ships and submarines (in Scotland or the Falklands, depending which way we figure-out that the convoy's going) were dispatched to intercept the convoy, if only to cause problems and make the Roycelandians and the League think carefully about what their next actions may mean not just for Iberia but their wider interests.

As happened from time to time during what was a cold war with a million French troops a few miles away from just one hundred thousand British, the Royal Navy was again starting to muster forces in the North Atlantic, a general response to increasingly awful tensions. HMS Godfrey Grâce à Dieu was commissioned under-way, much as had been the Illustrious, which the new fleet carrier replaced. The shining new carrier would be flagship of the Grand Fleet, Admiral Eric Longworth on her bridge.

Versailles

A bright line of carriages conveyed the Royal Family back to Le Grand Chateau, returning thence from the Holy League Congress in Rome.

Immediately, as soon as The Most Christian King mandatorily reviewed the Gardes Suisses in the Marble Court to drum and trumpet, an emergency conference of state was held in the Salon de Mars, gathered at a gigantic oaken table. The Ministre’s d’Etat were there, all, and upon His Throne the King had prepared to issue edicts. Noticeable now among the Royal Inner Circle, which consisted of the Princes of the Blood, M. de Maurepas, and le Comte de Vergennes was le Duc de Broglie, the new Minister of War.

More than noticeable, in his decadent uniform he was pre-eminent, overshadowed only by the awesome presence of the monarch. In the Court, which had seen so much power funneled into the ultra devots new Ministry, he was labeled “War God Broglie.” And now, when the King sat, all followed. Louis-Auguste was dressed in a simple blue silk suit, with the Regent Diamond in his ermine tricorner hat.

First to speak was the King’s Prime Minister, M. de Maurepas, a canny old politician.

“May God and His Angels defend your throne, sire. As we speak, a crisis approaches, a war in fact. Britain is preparing to intercept our armada returning from the Pacific. Your brother Philip prepares to engage Gibraltar and Portugal. Any hopes we had for Africa must now wait until we have concluded negotiations. Roycelandia has proffered a peace offer that would settle differences somewhat, while preserving a tenuous peace. Even the Walsingtonians, bellicose up to this point, may well be inclined…” he was cut of by the King raising his hand, an effect in the marble hall louder than a thunderbolt. There was deafening silence.

“Enough, Maurepas,” began the regal words “ peace will not be possible. I have decided to turn this matter over to le Duc de Broglie. Monsieur, if you please.” The King waved the hand and then relaxed it.

Maurepas sat, a bit stunned, but canny enough to realize if this new purposed course failed he would be right back in the Suns light.

But now, War God Broglie stepped into the sun.

“God and Angels indeed, my liege, watch over you. At His Majesty’s pleasure, I am issuing the following proclamations. First, the Kingdom of France will call for a standing army of one million men. Secondly, we will move our economy into a place where it will be able to support a massive war effort. The plan is quite simple, we will smash our enemies. The larger the attack, the greater the victory. I have also, by His Majesty’s Grace, ordered new battleships and aircraft to be built, and improvements to be made on our aerial defense network. Needless to say, the Secret Police will now be given total surveillance powers over the Subjectry. Of course the Marechaussee is prepared for this.”

“By supporting our brother realm and Holy League ally Spain, the Iberian becomes unified and the threat of Gibraltar removed. Gentlemen and my Sovereign King, we shall have a war, but one that will end in a few weeks, and see numerous hopes fulfilled.’

Applause followed his conclusion.

Les Champs des Mars

Hearkening to his Royal Call, thousands of French youth flooded into Paris and to the military recruitment center there. They came for King, Faith, and Bounty.

In one month, the War Ministry guaranteed His Most Christian Majesty 200,000 new soldiers, armed, equipped, and ready to fight. In six months, le Duc de Broglie would have an economy capable of supporting a total war effort, and a standing force of one million “Sons of St. Louis.”

Press gangs were sent out as well, to meet this incredible demand. the Royal Vanguard Legion, one-hundred thousand of France’s best soldiers, were still out at sea in the mid-Atlantic. However, the aircraft stationed in the Pacific were moved much faster, and had already rejoined their cohorts in the motherland.

Columns of LeClerc battle tanks and troop trucks soon began to clog freeways, as the state media proclaimed an imminent invasion.

Militarization accelerated, and huge posters were put of everywhere of Louis-Auguste, symbolized enthroned as France’s lieutenant of God.

'God Defend the Right, God Defend Saint Louis' (http://www.philatelistes.net/merson/images/oeuvres/saintlou.jpg)

The Royal Air Command in Grenoble was now at full alert, and all Ordu du Saint-Esprit reserve craft were activated. Reconnaissance flights now went far out into the Bay of Biscay, and interceptors roamed in organized patterns over the Kingdoms skies.

Marseilles

HMCMS Louis-Auguste, now fully upgraded for a bombardment assignment as well as anti missile and aircraft operations, moved out of harbor south to Sardinia. She was escorted by one Marseilles class light cruiser and four Brest class frigates, along with several support vessels and corvettes. Two Royal Navy submarines had already entered the seas about Gibraltar, and were working in sync with Spanish forces.

Cherbourg

As it became clear that the British were moving ships to intercept the returning French armada, the Admiralty ordered the First Fleet to sail from Cherbourg; and steam at full power until they reached the trajectory when the British would be within two hundred nautical miles of the said armada.

The First Fleet of the Royal Navy consisted of the Cherbourg class battleship Strasbourg, the freshly built Reclamation class aircraft carrier Ville de Paris, four Marseilles class light cruisers, four Brest class frigates, a dozen Defender class corvettes and eight support ships.

As they left port they went to stand by alert, with drills running and the Ville de Paris keeping a constant compliment of Rafale’s airborne as a fighter umbrella.

Satellite scans would show the fleet had fully activated its weapons systems and defense grids, and was actively searching out their British counterparts.

Madrid

Versailles and Madrid were in direct contact through the whole affair. Queen Antoinette, beautiful, bold, and petulant was the husband of King Philip VII and the daughter of King Louis XX, brother of Louis-Auguste, acted as the intermediary. Philip VII was given a carte blanche of French support, Louis-Auguste saw this as the perfect opportunity to perfectly reconciliate the estranged Houses of Bourbon.

Even now, one of France’s premier military forces, the Royal Dauphin Corps, thundered south on rail to Barcelona for assembly and preparation for anticipated action. It consisted of 60,000 Gardes Francaises, all bitter veterans of the Lavragerian War, supported by two fierce battalions of Quintonnian built Abrams battle-tanks: eight hunded armored chariots, supported by Royceladnian built Zulu attack helicopters.

On Corsica the Cherubim wing of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit flew in from Grenoble, seventy-two Roycelandian built strategic bombers strong to St. Stephan’s Aerodrome. In one week, they were expected to be joined by another bomber wing, The Thrones, which were currently finishing cluster bombing activities in the Kingdom of Algeria. They were joined by two wings of Mirage-2000’s, several squadrons of which were redeployed to Madrid to enhance Philip’s defense network.

Portugal, but foremost Gibraltar, was studied in Philip’s baroque study alongside his ravishing French Bourbon Queen, and satellite uplinks to the Winter Palace and Edmund’s compound were on the walls.

And there were no doubts whatsoever: with the mighty armies being assembled, anticipating a Holy League victory, Africa would soon collapse into crowned hands as well.

Mid-Atlantic, 800 miles from the African Coast

Le Duc de Normandie, commander of the French armada, studied the dispatch from Versailles with wide eyes. With calm and ease only a Bourbon could possess, he immediately orderly the fleet to disperse.

The troop ships would sail to Tsarist Nigeria, along with a light group of escort vessels. There they would recieve some much needed R&R in the Holy League colony, while gathering themselves up for no doubt valiant future missions.

The remainder of the fleet would assume lines of battle, increase to full steam, and head straight for a rendezvous with the First Fleet departing Cherbourg.

The Spanish and other Holy League allies watched this moved with interest.

The French Admiralty, commanded by another Royal Brother le Comte de Provence, planned to have the two fleets meet, and deflect the British back to the far north by force or agreement. This would leave the Fourth French Fleet unhindered access with their Spanish brethren to do what they pleased with Gibraltar.

At Brest, the remaining Third French Fleet was readied at a frenzied pace. Yet the engineers would not have the vessels online (a hallmark of the Royal Navy was constant upgrades) for a week or two at least.

But, as Louis-Auguste believed, the mighty navies he had summoned would be more then enough to do the job.

Algiers Palace, the Kingdom of Algeria

Behind jasmine laced walls Her Highness Queen in Algeria Yolande assured the pressingly invited Elian ambassador, as well as his Moroccan counterpart, that Moroccan and Elian territory would be sacrosanct.

The Kingdom of Algeria was only arming on orders of its liege lord, His Most Christian Majesty, in case the British tried a sally from one of their pitiful eastern Mediterranean outposts. In a rare show of openness, escorted teams of Elian visitors were allowed to visit the Kingdom of Algeria, given a tour by King Louis I himself. He showed the happy marriage of absolute monarchy and Algeria polity with dancing girls and children bearing flowers.

The Algerian Bourbons were making the point that United Elias would greatly benefit from a Holy League victory…think of the profits! Indeed, Iberian unity and the hinted recolonization of sub-Saharan West Africa would surely foster even greater trade between to disparate states.

A balance of power, too long overlooked in Europe, was becoming visible again. Yet this time, the west was made of neither democracy nor diplomacy, but iron.

French extensions to Elias would be some way behind British ones, with their long-standing ties. Indeed, even as the Holy League spoke of the benefits of victory, a Royal Navy battleship in the Indian Ocean took-on supplies at Diego Garcia, under watch of United Elias forces, while the British ambassador in Baghdad forwarded advance warning of HMS Courageous' planned course through the Suez.

Needless to say there would be general rumblings made about the security of Morocco now that Spain was in the Holy League, not to mention the deployment of tens of thousands of French troops to Iberia and build-up in the Mediterranean. More overt are concerns over the saftey of shipping -such as oil exports to Walmington [hopes for Malay oil being dismissed in light of the value of cheap fuel prices in winning-over the population there, United Elias continues share with the North Sea almost all responsibility for oiling a reindustiralising Britain's gears] and the Americas- through the Straits of Gibraltar. And, thinking ahead, as the ambassador writes in a note, war between the Walmingtonian Empire and the Holy League will be grabbed by the Soviets and their satellites as an opportunity to finally take-down Roycelandian East Africa -since its allies will be otherwise engaged, and Britain forced to choose sides-, with victory there leaving pro-Soviet forces on Egypt's doorstep, which surely is less agreeable than the current Roycelandian neighbourhood.

An increase in daily oil exports and, notably, of refined products, to Britain and the Empire was also sought in response to the latest round of French militarisations.

Elsewhere, following unusual events in Britain (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=485507) and the presence of French bombers in the Med and troops in Spain, cruiseliners, RN, and RFA ships left port in England, Wales, Norbray, and Newry, bound for Gibraltar. Ocean patrol craft, frigates, and a couple of destroyers provided escort.

On the rock, though the populace was still trying to grasp the significance of militant actions in Britain, Sir Viirgil Tempest Pollock set enthusiastically about preparations for evacuation. The Governor and Commander-in-Chief appeared to have the time and energy of two officials as he also saw to the defences. Cranes hauled guns on to the rock, hands raised barricades before the rock, and machinetools sunk tunnel extensions into the rock.

In Spain, Sir Henry continued his efforts to convince the Spanish that they were in danger of making a mistake, or of allowing the French to make a mistake on their behalf, as he put it.

Lisbon meanwhile enjoyed the company of more usual diplomats as Mainwaring's government, reinforced in the blink of an eye by his demi-coup, announced that things had gone too far. Britain was being accused of spoiling for a fight, but maintained an army of just one hundred thousand plus thirty-five thousand territorials and a Home Guard that couldn't attack Denmark, let alone France or Spain. It was apparent that the French and Spanish thrones were not interested in anything less than expansion, and so there seemed, so said the ambassador to Portugal, no reason to step lightly- if talk of a defensive alliance between two nations with combined armies smaller than France's by several fold was enough to bring further militarisation and accusations of meddling, then let meddling commence. The Empire was prepared to discuss the issue of what defence help may be rendered unto the Portuguese Republic, with the Azores mentioned as... somewhere that the Royal Navy would prefer not to see Holy League warships putting-in.

[OOC: NG, if you could put one of the four E-3s France has over the Bay of Biscay that would be awesome; along with a ELINT aircraft. My S-80 diesels could use the intelligence. Gracias.

For all else, the Portuguese operation and the siezure of the Gibraltar were meant to be simultanuous. However, I only have enough oomph in me to post little by little, so the Portuguese operations may come in a later post. Please take into consideration that they were meant to jump off at the same time.]

Gibraltar, United Kingdom: 0300

http://img399.imageshack.us/img399/4064/ironwestgibraltar9qk.gif

Lieutenant Alberto del Río was the first to hear the drone of turbine engines approaching from the north. This must be their promised air support, he mused. He didn't know much on the upcoming aerial operation, but supposedly it was to give his men the advantage they needed. The foreign legion was outnumbered ten to one in the beginning, and it would take reinforces from Ceuta to put a good number of personnel on the rock. But those in Ceuta couldn't make it across until the British naval garisson had been put out of action, or else they risked destruction at the hands of some well placed surface to air missiles. He hurumphed to himself. This was going to be a difficult battle, but he had been assured that victory was Spain's no matter how one looked at it. With a major French fleet off the coast, as well as Spain's armada, he was sure that no English reinforcements would arrive any time soon. He turned back around to look at the Gibraltar and he felt a low rumble and saw quite an explosion somewhere to the south. It was already beginning. He felt as if all of this was surreal, and he knew that there were some in Spain's command that immediately regreted their decision to support the king and his war.

The planes above him zipped in fast, at over five hundred knots. Their targets had been exquisitely chosen by French military satellites and Spanish aerial and ground based reconaissance. He could see the lead Eurofighter release two of his AGM-84 Harpoon air launched anti-shipping missiles, and he witnessed the rocket booster suddenly flare. The missile then engaged some hidden target, most likely a wounded ship, while the Typhoon banked and made ready for another run. Other Typhoons were making strafing runs on ground targets, most likely British territorial army units, and others were pounding on artillery installations. One of their heaviest targets seemed to be British radar and the North Front Airport, as well as any other strips the British had on the peninsula. While thesquadron of twelve Eurofighters total made their run the Lieutenant could see more formations of aircraft coming from another direction.

Del Río could finally see it. They were comitting themselves to a wagon wheel attack on the Gibraltar. The two squadrons of F/A-18A/B Hornets came in low and pounded more positions with their two Taurus KEPD 350 missiles each. They, unfortunately, displace the entire stock of these missiles on hand in the entire Spanish Air Force, but the French were supplying dozens of SCALP EG Storm Shadows to replace the Taurus. These guys were not letting the English get their heads out of the ground, and they were pummeling what was left of any naval garisson. Lieutenant Alberto del Río could see several smoke trails lead from the ground and slowly dissipate in the sky. The Spanish air force had put a lot of work into the strike, and it seemed as if it was paying off. Alternatively, he could see some aircraft rocket into the ground after turning into a gigantic ball of flame, but he supposed that the damage done to the British was far more expensive than the few downed aircraft. The Spanish were doing a good job keeping them on their toes, and they weren't done yet.

From the southwest came two squadrons of Harrier IIs, or about twenty-seven aircraft, which was Spain's entire Harrier force. Soon they would have to restock on French Dassault Rafale Ms, but not anytime soon. The Harriers tore anything up that was left from the other aircraft with their GAU-125s, butting 25mm rounds into British bodies. Their raid was fairly quick, and the Eurofighters had already left by the time the Hornets were done. The entire ordeal was completed in less than thirty minutes, and Alberto could see the damage dealed. For a few downed aircraft they had most likely doomed the British garisson on the Gibraltar, putting fear into English hearts and downsizing their forces. Hopefully the aircraft had also finished neutralising any naval assets the British had at hand. Alberto saw the black smoke towers intensify and heard some last minute explosions. He whistled and then took a look at his platoon and with his hand suggested that put their heads down. The preliminary bombardments weren't over yet.

Gibraltar, United Kingdom: 0245
[OOC: Since I'm not really sure what you have, I'll be as general as possible and let you deal with what ships were present, and which were hit.]

The six small plastic submergibles left Algeciras sometime after two in the morning, slowly making their way towards the Gibraltar. They were built out of plastic to avoid a magnetic signature and their tedious job was to approach the British fleet at less than a knot, meaning they most likely wouldn't be picked up by sonars arrayed around the rock. It was safer, but it was also one of the most boring jobs. Private Miguel Roncha sighed to himself. Boring and fatal. He didn't expect to come back after this, and if he survived this day he would be a very lucky man. Stowed near his feet were eight 'sticky' mines that would be planted underneath the keel of a British warship. He was rather nervous, hoping that they didn't ignite with him there. The fact that he had to time it wasn't very warming to him. Nevertheless, he continued forth, along with his other five comrades. Given charts and estimations they arrived into the Gibraltar near 0245, right on schedule, and they immediately began to split up and look for their targets. Miguel saw his soon enough, and he wheeled his submergible towards it. At about four hundred meters from his target he released some water from the ballast tank to put him at around twenty meters below the surface of the water. With that done he opened the hatch and left the submergible, carrying the sack of mines. His poor vessel would simply sink to the bottom, lightly and quietely, most likely to be found later.

He shruged and continued to do his task. Breathing through the tank on his back he swam the distance quickly and got to work placing the mines at spaced intervals around the ship, and then swung over to the other side across the bow and started to place them there as well. The entire ordeal lasted some ten minutes, and he had timed each bomb to blow by 0300 hours. When he was finally finished with the job he silently swam through the wharfs until he had reached a position he could climb on without being seen by guards or nearby workers. By the time he got out of the water he could already hear the scratch of the turbines coming and he rushed himself to find a safe hiding spot. He would turn himself over the British army thereafter, but if they caught him while the raid was going on there was a good chance a veangeful British soldier would execute him then and there. He didn't have much time to think about all of this, of course, because just then huge explosions erupted from the water and he could see pieces of ship flying through the skies and hitting other ships, while doing other nasty things. It was all a rather bloody thing but he supposed that that was the way it was meant to be. He shrugged. At least it wasn't him.

And so Miguel waited in some dark corner of the wharf while the Typhoons, Hornets and Harriers did their routine death from above. At least his part of the operation was successful. That was, after all, the only part he had to worry about. After the Gibraltar fell he would be liberated by his countrymen and then he would be sent back to war. That thought frightened him, but he decided to light a cigarette to calm his nerves. Then he thought twice about that, thinking that the fire would give him away while the bombardment was still going on, and put the packet away. War was so complicated and unforgiving sometimes.

Campamento, España: 0330
There was no lull in the bombardment of the Gibraltar. At 0330 the artillery began to pound the Rock. All forty-eight 155mm artillery pieces opened up simultanuously and spit fire out of their well shielded gunpits. The bombardment would last a full thirty minutes and the smart fused shells would hit British army positions who's coordinates were delivered previously be satellite, or contemporarly by four well placed observers that had by now crossed the neutral zone, along with the other four hundred man battalion prepared for the inevitable strike into the Gibraltar. With each passing salvo one only thought of the death that occured on the receiving side. The batteries had little worries of counterbattery fire, with the reassurance that the Hornets had aimed for the British artillery during the preliminary raid. Over the scope of the entire operation there would be many of sai raids, and hopefully the air power would ultimately win this battle, along with a healthy dose of well planned ground operations below. The sound of the artillery was eardrum shattering, and most of the crews of the guns had their ears muffled with cotton and proffessional earmuffs. They nonetheless still felt the ground shaking, and could see the brief flashes of light over on the British side of hell.

http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/LAND-FORCES/Army/Images/0251.jpg

Bleak Beach, Gibraltar, United Kingdom: 0345
Major Arturo De la Ruíz landed on Bleak Beach on schedule. He and his entire battalion of four hundred men had to make the trek between Ceuta and the Gibraltar by a carved out merchant boat wearing neutrality flags, and their rubber rafts were assembed about four hundred meters out, making the scary trip to the beach proper a rather short trip. The artillery batteries in Algeciras, not Campamento, had done their job on target, and for fifteen minutes he could see Bleak Beach torn apart by dozens of falling artillery shells, creating a close knit network of slaughter. He felt safe with that, but understood that if the British had a sizeable defensive position there his men would see hard times in the hours to come. He shook his head and tried not to think about such things. Instead, he focused on the mission at hand. He and his men had been the wild card. Nobody expected reinforcing from Cadiz, and this strike was designed to preceed the general offensive from the north, and confuse the British garisson. It would also force the British to split up their forces, or face an envelopement they could not defend against. Finally, it would also open Bleak Beach to the landings of over four thousand more men if completely necessary - the rest of El Tercio had been prepared for operations if needed.

About one hundred meters from the beach he started to give his final orders, "I don't know what's going to be on that beach, to tell you the truth, but what we're going to do is simple. We're going to hit the beach and pound past it as quickly as possible. We have artillery to back up our strike. We need to clear Europa Flats, and we need to capture Europa Point. From the latter we'll be able to call down more accurate artillery and guide in better air raids. So, hit and hit fast!"

He others muttered their 'ayes' and 'yes sirs', but most were not ready for this operation. They had been trained to expect war with Morocco over Ceuta and Melilla, not war with the United Kingdom. Now they were fighting a rival who's abilities were comparable to Spain's, or even more. That was not a comforting thought at all. But in any event, that would soon be irrelevent. Some two minutes later the rafts his the beach and the men that jumped off immediately hit the floor. Nobody knew what those Britons had on the beach, but they weren't ready to find out either. Some had already deployed small autonomous clearance vehicles to look for mines, knowing that was a perfect solution to stopping an invasion from the south. In other words, these guys were being very careful. All the while the artillery batteries in Algeciras had switched targets from the beach to the rear of the beach and Europa plains, trying to saturate British infantry and mechanisation with deadly gun fire from the east. If things went badly the two 155 batteries in Ceuta would be turned to start bombarding the Gibraltar as well.

Gibraltar, United Kingdom: 0400
The time had come. The artillery had stopped and had begun to restock for more tactical bombardments when they were called upon. The low drumming of hitting rounds had finally ended and Lieutenant Alberto del Río was at the end of his nerves. The adrenaline was not late to come. Suddenly he put his arm in the air and yelled, "1st platoon, follow me!"

He could see the rest of the company rise at the same time and rush over the border line. They had proper Pizarro and Patton support, with the latter using their high velocity 105mm guns to burn infantry with high explosives, or destroy a fortifcation with a well placed HESH round. del Río could note that high command was not fooling around. They seriously wanted to place overwhelming pressure on the British garrison to force it to surrender as quickly as possible. The armoured fighting vehicles advanced with the lead elements of the infantry, who soon began to infest 'the British lines', hoping to overwhelm them and then begin fighting at the bombed out North Front Airfield. Alberto could see the damage to it already. The runways had been peppered with bombs, and some of the aircraft were already burnt out. The Eurofighters had hit it really hard, as he could see. And for good reason. If the British put fighters in the air the war would become infinitely more difficult. One the airfield was taken they could proceed to the governor's residence, where upon the battle would most likely end. No doubt, however, that the fight for just that would be absolutely horrendous and bloody. Nevertheless, that's why they had their armour.

And so G36E in hand, Lieutenant Alberto led his platoon towards the British lines, crossing his fingers mentally and awaiting for the blood that awaited him. The war had begun.

((Mac, you needn't ask, feel free to RP that radar craft yourself))

Tens of thousands of feet above The Rock

The ultimate refutation that the Bourbon Houses had suffered was now being atoned for, Utrecht would burn like the Union Jack on Gibraltar.

The Thrones, a wing of seventy-two Lancaster II strategic bombers thought to be in Algeria on practice runs, now assumed a flight path straight over Gibraltar. They made an eerie sight early in the morning, like angels of death gliding through a moonfleet night. An escort of Mirage-2000’s was spread about them.

Colonel de Fontenoy, Chevalier of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit and the wing’s commander, spoke into his microphone: “Attention! All craft climb to bombing altitude, stand by!”

And so as the Spanish Bourbons were preparing to fire their first shots, the strategic bombers groaned to their flight ceiling. In minutes, the wing has assumed its attack position. The Rock was coming up on the satellite readouts, and le Colonel nodded to his co-pilot.

The bomb bay doors opened on the Wing Commanders craft, and the wing followed ensuite.

So when the Spanish were well into their initial bombardment, they would be supported by The Thrones. Hundreds of bombs fell from the French Lancaster II’s, guided by laser targeting down onto targets spread all about the rock. The bombs fell on targets from North Field to Gibraltar itself, several lobbing down towards the harbor.

The Spanish troops would no doubt cheer as they saw their French allies pummel The Rock from above, leaving columns of smoke and debris in the bombing raids wake.

But that was not all…

As Louis-Auguste discussed with Philip VII, the assault on Gibraltar must be quick and overwhelming. Ergo, a second wing of French bombers, The Cherubim, approached from north-east only minutes after the first French force had passed into the northwest.

They did not have standard bombs, however. UGC, a new French chemical weapon tested in Rajasthan (standing for ‘a great heat’) was stacked into the second bombing wings release bays. It was lodged in shiny steel, indeed thin containers. A phosphorus compound, it was hotter and burned longer than napalm, while leaving little if no residue following the climax of its action, its hallmark was near blinding white flames that spread almost like symmetrical powder.

As an ultimate morale boost, and indeed as a vindictive measure for all the hate Louis-Auguste felt for these intransigent and dangerously protestant British interlopers, The Cherubim wing would deploy their weapons only minutes, seconds really, before the Spanish troops began the advance.

Nigh the entire Rock was lit with white hot explosions, visible for tens of miles around, the sheer amount of UGC deployed threatened to turn night into day. North Field was blanketed, turning it into a sweltering inferno. Gibraltar itself was given an uneven share of the weaponry, and that cite burning could be seen with satisfaction of camera screens in both Versailles and Madrid.

The French bombers returned to Marseilles following the mission, to a heroes welcome, but were immediately re-stocked, and would remain on ten minute notice while a new change of pilots were called up.

Additional squadrons of Mirage-2000’s continued to fly into Madrid, His Most Christian Majesty eager to aid his brother while his brother engaged a great majority of his royal air force.

What power unleashed! It would not be long before news outlets got some film of the action. Gibraltar, hours ago a peaceful British holding, now teetered under the immense weight of the Bourbons’ full punch.

The Far Western Mediterranean, a hundred nautical miles west of Sardinia

HMCMS Louis-Auguste and her support fleet were too about to entire the conflict zone, alarms rang on all decks. In several hours, they would prepare to lead their power to the bombardment of Gibraltar as well.

Air cover was provided by the Royal Algerian Air Force.

Atlantic

The two French fleets, barreling towards each other and the Walmingtonians at the western gate to the Med stood on full alert. Would the British turn away, or would they continue…continue and expand this action from a small land maneuver to a large naval battle.

The Royal Vanguard Legion and its escort ships were in sight of Tsarist Nigeria, the troops glad to be away from a helpless position in high seas combat.

Versailles

Seconds before the shots were fired, the British had been given an ultimatum:

1- Withdraw all British nationals from Portugal and recognize it as a Spanish possession.

2- Withdraw from Gibraltar and recognize it as a Spanish possession.

3- That if these conditions are not met post haste, Newry is to be made independent, and a state of war will in fact be immanent.

[Maps:
Central Portugal (http://img366.imageshack.us/img366/2166/centralportugal8at.gif)
Northern Portugal (http://img507.imageshack.us/img507/3635/northernportugal1qh.gif)
Southern Portugal (http://img356.imageshack.us/img356/4695/southernportugal3bl.gif)]

4th Armoured Company, 1st Cavalry Brigade
Captain Vidal's twelve Leopard 2Es began the push towards Lisbon at exactly 0300, while in the south the Gibraltar was being pummeled by French and Spanish aircraft. The strike into Portugal was designed to be just as fast, and Vidal was spearheading the advance into southern Lisbon. This should prove to be rather interesting, he thought to himself. He knew he was driving the best tank in the world - or at least, that's what was told to him - but he also knew the Portuguese were resourceful, and would use their upgraded M60 main battle tanks as well as they could. This meant that even such a fine piece of armour like Santa Bárbara Sistemas' Leopard 2E could be knocked out by a single 105mm sabot coming from the hight velocity muzzles of those Patton tanks. He tried to take his mind off the options he had for death and instead began to look for possibilities for his own kills. His thirty minute objective was the town of Elvas, where intelligence had said there would be a full sized infantry company defending. His day's objective was to reach the end of the A-6 highway, which led again to the E-90, which would put him around sixty to seventy kilometers into Portugal. Quite a gain in one day.

He approached Elvas outside his turret, looking through a pair of binoculars and he twisted his neck to see the faint glim of Spanish aircraft coming in from the east. The majority of Spanish strike fighters, including land variants of the F-18, as well as naval variants, the Typhoons and the Dassault Mirage F.1s, had been used to hit Portuguese airfields, in a predawn strike to get rid of Portugal's aerial assets. Portugal's airforce was miniature compared to that of Spain. They only could call upon a force of thirty-seven F-16s, but even those thirty-seven F-16s could do major damage on Spanish aerial forces, especially given that there was a chance that soon enough they would be forced into aerial duels with the British. Even French and Typhoon replacements could not possibly be fast enough to rearm Spain in the event that Britain put a sizeable airforce on the continent. The Portuguse also had twenty-five active service Alpha 1 jets, with another twenty-five as stored spares. These were targetted as well. The Spanish didn't want to give them any chances. Beyond that, the crux of Spain's aerial forces were reserved for destroying Portuguese Chaparral surface to air missile emplacements that could cost Spain dearly.

Vidal could see the twelve Dassault Mirage F.1s fly low and right over his armour company and hit emplacements over Elva. Good. He would need as much aerial support as he could get. This would become more obvious as the day wore on, when he would have to engage hidden Portuguese tanks. But he put any ideas for later back into storage inside his brain, and waved to the other tanks to move foward. As he got closer to the outskirts of Elva he got back into the turret and closed the hatch over him, and then directed the strike using all the electronics the new Leopards had. Then, suddenly, the company entered the town. The rest of the brigade would most likely go around, and his instructions were to make a clean sweep and leave through the other side. Armoured infantry would finish the job behind him. The entire operation inside Elvas lasted mere minutes, as he found nothing, and when he asked some citizens they told them the Portuguese infantry stationed as a blocking force had fled. The citizens lied.

As he realigned the Leopard to leave the town through the highway crossing it on a tangent he failed to see the large 105mm towed anti-tank gun hidden in one of the garage-warehouses of the town. As he continued foward he felt a sudden shockwave and blast pressure and heard a grainy craacck. Shit, he told himself. The tank behind him had received a hit to the upper glacis, which had forced the round to ricochet, but nevertheless had done damage to the frontal armour of the tank. He suddenly felt lucky that he was in a Leopard, knowing that older anti-tank guns like these would have to get accurate shots to the side and rear to knock it out. But that war sensation left just as quickly as it had come and he took his radio and started to yell, "Disperse! Take out those damn guns!"

His gunner had already traversed the turret, and with the long 120mm gun would a high explosive round into the general area of the anti-tank gun. The shockwaves of the impact also managed to destroy the front wall to a house, and cover the area in dust. When it cleared the anti-tank gun was charred, with three bloody bodies crumpled over it. Vidal keyed the radio, "Good job boys. Let's get out of here and tell the groundpounders to clean up that hell hole. Apart from that, I don't think there's much in this village that those bombers didn't get."

There was static on the radio when he was finished, but he heard a muffled, "Cap', it's a fucking ambush!" When he heard that he also heard a whooomp, and knew that one of his rear tanks had been knocked out. Shit. He tapped his gunner on the helmet, who then turned the turret to look behind him as his Leopard 2 started off again towards the highway. His tanks were not designed to fight ambushes in urban areas. They were designed to fight highly mobile armoured battles, and that's what he was looking for - not taking a village. The infantry would have to complete that job for him.

8th Infantry Regiment, Elvas
The Spanish had a poor sense of judgement, thought Colonel Arjent Pao as he witnessed the battle unfolding inside Elvas. They had thought the infantry had redeployed, leaving a sole company in the town, but they were wrong. The entire 8th Infantry Regiment had stayed, and so now he would play a game of harassement. The tanks would leave and they would send their infantry in. Well, he had a suprise for them. A fully armed regiment of some two thousand infantry. Unfortunately, this was the number on paper, not in reality. About three quarters of this were spread out along the front, trying to hold a line which really didn't exist in the first place. But Lisbon seemed fixated on the idea of holding back the Spanish advance without losing ground. They were losing something, Pao thought; their minds. But the Portuguese generals had done the best they could to plan some sort of active defense. Shield and sword as the Germans termed it. They would slowly detract from Spanish numbers, and then there would be a fairly large armoured counterattack against the Spanish spearhead, hoping to catch if off guard and push it around. Portugal, however, was under no illusion. They were trying to buy time, not defeat Spain - time for the British to arrive.

Pao looked on as three strong soldiers pushed a towed 105mm into position. Three of his guns had already been knocked out, and about twenty of his men covering the anti-tank gunners had been killed by rabid machinegun fire, originating from the Leopards. He saw as the Leopards started to move foward again, trying to make it into the roads. They had realised their mistake, he made not of. But they wouldn't leave without a token. Pao grimaced when he first saw his rounds simply bounce off the glacis and frontal turret of the Leopards, but he had expected it. This new 105 put an armour piercing capped round right into the rear armour of the Leopard 2E, penetrating and then exploding. The turret of the tank ripped off simultanuously, killing the crew immediately. Five million dollars worth of equipment destroyed. Good. He had been lucky that the planes had only destroyed the more obvious equipment in Elvas, and not his anti-tank guns. Even one Leopard 2E gone would pay off in the end. Spain only had so much of them.

Then he saw his nemesis. He looked off to the distance and saw the specks of incoming aircraft. His smile turned to a frown and he acted upon impulse. Taking the radio he began to scream orders, "Get out of the street! Get out of the street!" Those fighters would make mince meat out of his now exposed infantry. "Get back into position! Get out of the street!"

He could only save so many. The 27mm cannons on the Spanish aircraft tore apart the pavement on the streets, and they tore up his men like cattle. Dozens of rounds shattered bones, ripped through muscles and tissue, and slaughtered his men. He couldn't do anything about it though. If there was something to commend the Spanish it as their foreshadowing that the air battle would win the war, and they had struck at the Portuguese airforce and surface to air missiles first. Surviving Portuguese chaparrals closer to Lisbon would make hell for Spanish aircraft, but he supposed that by that time the heavy French and Algerian bombers that were hitting the Gibraltar would be redirected to bombing campaigns over Lisbon. He put his attention back on his own men. He could hear the wounded as the strike aircraft broke off and returned to base for more fuel. They would be back. But he could only do so much.

4th Armoured Company, 1st Cavalry Brigade
His company was down to eleven tanks, and the one loss at Elvas had been rather unfortunate. But those bastards would get something coming to them fast. In any case, the entire cavalry brigade had broke through the Portuguese border and he had received updates that the Portuguese defense had been breached around him. He was already on the road to Estremoz, with Elvas behind him, and soon enough that road block would be within Spanish hands too. For the past forty-five minutes Spanish aircraft had been making almost constant bombing runs, although he had seen one squadrons return with one Eurofighter less. Nevertheless, those planes were making his job much easier, and he had received a report that said that one squadron had destroyed up to eight tanks that were grouping near him. That meant that the Portuguese were preparing a strong defense in front of him, or they were getting prepared for a counterattack. Neither sounded jolly.

By the time he reached Estremoz it was smoldering with long black pillars of smoke rising from within it. It had obviously been hit hard. Plans had changed and he was ordered to go around it, avoiding the urbanised areas at all cost. He had been told that an air assault company was being put in to clear the streets. So he did as ordered and swept around it, putting a kilometer behind him rather quickly. He then continued west. The Portuguese defense was bending, and he hadn't engaged a single thing since Elvas. However, he felt like something was coming soon, and he was absolutely right. About ten minutes after he had passed Estremoz he was ordered to dig in west of the city and half the offensive. He could hear the chatter of gunfire a whiles away and did as told. The rest of the brigade put up an armoured arc around the city. It seemed as they were preparing for defensive operations.

It wasn't long before his battalion major came over and started to instruct him on what was happening, "The Portuguese have arrayed about a hundred and thirty Pattons in front of us, along with two full strength infantry regiments. There are reports of heavy fighting on our flanks. We think they're going to try to retake Estremoz. Our paras took the two companies of infantry in the city by suprise and got most of them to surrender without a fight. The Portuguese want to stop us cold. The good news is that if we win this one the road to Lisbon will be open. There's no way Portugal can deploy more than what they already have to the defense of the city."

Captain Vidal nodded from his hatch and asked, "How many of us are gone? We lost one back at Elvas."

The major grimaced, "Yours is the only 2E. We lost two A4s to well placed Carl Gustavs to our rear elsewhere. Those infantry were fucking tenacious. It took a good ten minutes to breakthrough someplaced in the front. But that's nothing close to what they've lost. From preliminary reports I've read of up to fifty Portuguese M60s knocked out, with dozens of armoured personnel vehicles fried, and hundreds of infantry dead. Our airforce is cutting them up into ribbons. Lisbon needs England and her armies fast, or she's a gonner. They know this. This is why they are counterattacking. They need time."

Vidal looked away and said, "What will you have me do?"

"When their counterattack is launched you will be given an order to advance. You're going to engage their armour head on, along with a lot of other companies that were deployed to do such things. We're going to catch them by suprise, ruin their counteroffensive, destroy some tanks and bag those two infantry regiments. That's most of their armour and over four thousand infantry captured." The major smiled as he finished that. A quick war is what they all wanted. The more casualties the Portuguese endured, the quicker the war was going to be.

The early hours of the morning saw a mostly sleepy town under military curfew as Sir Viirgil awaited the arrival of evacuation ships. The Home Guard had a few patrols out, old men shambling along the seafront, wearing incomplete uniforms and clutching bolt-action rifles as they squinted against their failing night vision. One was knocked off his feet as RFA Fort Rosalie exploded and her more than twenty thousand tonnes threw a good bit of themselves into the air.

Stunned, lying on his back, the weedy forty-something Maltese Catholic saw the light of afterburners above him, an RAF Typhoon the only one of four on station to make it into action as bombs and missiles fell on the airbase. He even saw the flash of Pilot Officer Dent's BAE Meteor as it rocketed away against an unseen attacker, which the Home Guardsman could only imagine was Spanish.

Rapier FSC batteries were busy intercepting what incoming munitions and aircraft they could catch and reach, and soldiers clattering out into the night attempted to deploy their domestic and Quinntonian MANPADS, to little tactical result. As .50 calibre tracers hung amongst the stars, the dazed home defence volunteer found himself groaning, "Stand to! Stand to!" in a caution that came slightly too late for his comrades.

In the harbour, the Gibraltar Squadron's two patrol launches didn't last long, giving likely useless machinegun fire against the angry night sky before going under, or more honestly going every which way, quite exploded, all hands presumably lost.

Before long, despite the ruinous state of the runway, two Harrier IV (Super Harrier) were in the air. Big, fast, stealthily shaped and heavily shielded when compared to the very different machines flown by the Spaniards, they were formidable and armed with four Meteor carried internally plus wingtip ASRAAM -there was no time to mount more missiles under the wings, so the hope was to slip away in the dark and make use of the reduced radar profile that dispensing with major external stores afforded. By the time they'd pulled away, French bombers were easily detected inbound, and the supersonic Harriers hoped to loose eight missiles against them from afar, relying on speed, stealth, and ASRAAM to enable their survival until intercept. The pilots assumed that they were going down, one way or another, and inbound bombers seemed an easier and more valuable target than already departing fighters and obsolescent conventional Harriers.

On the rock, 105mm LFGs were not up to the task of counter battery fire against significant numbers of 155mm weapons, especially while under fire from the air. Alas, this was not the C18th, and the guns were not well suited to concealment within the rock itself... though anti-tank missiles were awkwardly positioned with lots of hastily scrawled warning signs about backblast taped to rocky walls within.

The basic idea of any defence, in the mind of the Commander-in-Chief, was that three thousand regulars, eight hundred reservists, and four to six hundred Home Guard would resist enemy infantry and armour in the narrow, winding, climbing streets of the town and the rock itself, inflicting hundreds of casualties and many hours lost while the Royal Navy forced its way in to lift the siege. Sir Viirgil was attempting to co-ordinate reaction to such ends, meeting landings and thrusts with a fighting retreat.

But the French attack made a ruin of twenty eight thousand civilian and four thousand military lives and their plans. That French military expenditure was again bordering on the crippling and their actions assured that the world's justice would soon be brought to the smoking ruins of Versailles and the Royal Palace of Madrid meant little in the moment to the people of Gibraltar as French poison sealed the fate of Gibraltar's civilians and Catholicism's kings alike.

While thousands died, officers gave orders to begin sabotage of their own facilities, believing evacuation a lost hope. They also laid charges in narrow streets, barricades, and tunnels, improvising out of fear and fury to compensate for a ban on landmines. Sir Viirgil tried to get updates on the condition of his forces, which was not easy while they were on fire.

London

Those who could still think straight hoped that the burning of Gibraltar -its Britons, Maltese, Portuguese, Africans, and Spaniards, near twenty thousand Catholic souls the three-quarters majority amongst them- would be screened in Madrid as the French intended. If anyone in the suddenly-totalitarian pariah state previously had doubts as to where Spain was following its king, the searing white heat of the rock's anguish couldn't have more clearly light the way ahead.

Even if the state cracked-down and decided not to use French propaganda, the border was there with a nation proud of its achievements, and Gibraltar was there, glowing on the horizon, screaming on the wind.

British ambassadors around the world struggled to decide what they would say, what they should say to the governments in Port Royal, Baghdad, Washington, elsewhere. The diplomatic service even seemed suddenly to care about Belgrade's latest struggle.

No reply was given to the French insult, though Harriers and helicopters were soon on their way, along with engineers, to the Channel Islands, where roads and fields were to be changed to airbases and surface to air missiles brought in.

HMS Courageous left Diego Garcia, hoping to be allowed through the Suez, aircraft on Cyprus went on high alert, the ships en route to Gibraltar turned back, their escorts heading out into the Atlantic to meet other fleet assets, HMS Glorious was sent out, again to be commissioned under-way, even though she was still being painted and some civilians were still aboard finishing internal fittings, and volunteers were requested for the Army, RAF, and Naval Service, and by lunch some twenty thousand had already asked to sign up, and tens of thousands more were frustrated by the lack of capacity to process their applications so soon. Wendsleybury saw several thousand applications, too.

The reopening of Welsh and northern mines and northern and midland factories had come at a good time as war production got underway.

"...consequently, it is my sad duty to inform you that, as of sunrise this morning... this country is at war with the Kingdoms of Spain... and France. Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. God save the King."

OOC:
I think the spirit of the post was that if the french/roik transport convoy were heading home via the north of russia, units from scottish bases would be deployed and if traveling via cape horn units from the falklands would be used isntead.

IC: It would come as no surpise to anyone that as soon as the cowardly attack on gibralter became known to the Strathdonian government, esspecially with the dispicable french resorting to using WMDs on the civilian population, the Walmington ambassador would receive a vast offer of aid from the SDF. Of course an offer of SDF aid isn't be best offer in the world, sure if the entire comerical aviation industry within Strathdonia was conscripted to help then maybe a divsion of infantry could be deployed, be it minus pretty much all of its heavy equipment. On the other hand the deployment of a SAM regiment with rapiers and patriots to Gilbraltar had previously been successful, and the British mainland wasn't that much further and accenssion island was closer still.
While promises of SDF support didn't really amoutn to a whole tin of beans, the Strathdonian diplomatic corps woudl certainly lend thier weight to calls for action against the HL by likes of the Elians or Quintonians (the Prog bloc wouldn't need much urging). United Elias possed an interesting question: how concerned were they with the future of the Free state? could Strathdonia officially regonise them in return for UE involvement in the med? and if such an offer was required what could be doen to prevent the UAR using it as a final excuse for tramping into Strathdonia.

oops that was me, sorry

((I’m sorry, I assumed they used the standard Horn route used to Asia by the French before, hence the threat of Australasian involvement.))

Gibraltar

The Iron Thrones wing lost no less than five bombers due to the heroic defense of the English pilots, the massive aircraft plunging into the waters below. The fighter escort soon occupied the Harriers, however, yet two of the British craft managed to escape that ghastly dogfight. One Mirage fighter escort was even taken unawares in the pursuit, and so perished as well.

Ironically, the wing that delivered the unexpectingly devastating assault on the British base, the Cherubim, did not loose one craft.

The wings were back at Marseilles, and almost prepared for another sortie. However, it was desperately hoped that the example of Gibraltar would ensure a quick and orderly Portuguese surrender. All the while, the Royal Dauphin Corps was at 100% capacity at Barcelona, standing by for any aid the Spanish might need.

Another factor disheartening Portugal would be the imminent arrival of a French fleet of war beyond its coasts, traveling in the wake of the English departure northward.

But what a military success, a prolonged siege had been avoided, and now Bourbon navies surrounded the area, increasingly isolating Portugal, which was experiencing a large Philippian onslaught.

Religious connotations espoused by the British were dismissed by the Grand Almoner of France himself, who declared when hypothesized that the unfortunate demise of Catholic souls constituted a sin: “God knows his own, when fighting for Christ, the innocent will always suffer.”

Now taking up a position in the central Mediterranean, around Corsica, was the Fourth Fleet, whose flagship was the Louis-Auguste. Its assignment was to secure the vital Kingdom’s of France and Algerian link.

Lagos, Nigeria

The weary Royal Vanguard Legion, arrived to a warm welcome in Lagos, having split off with the original fleet earlier. The fleet and its escort ships soon dotted the Lagosian seaboard. They received a heartening welcome from the Tsarist troops, and le Duc de Normandie soon set up a splendid command tent amidst his camp.

Soon camps were set up, and the long and tedious disembarking of so many helicopters, tanks, and supplies had begun. The weary Corps would rest in Nigeria for a while, and undergo only mild training.

Yet le Duc de Normandie, brother of King Louis-Auguste, knew that the Legion, an advanced French battle corps trained for jungle combat, was in West Africa for more than a vacation. The force was ready to fight, and the resources of French Equatorial Africa were now only a few hundred miles away.

The Channel Islands

With British activity noticed in the vital Channel Islands, which were only a stones throw away from the Admiralty in Cherbourg itself, the First Fleet was recalled from the Bay of Biscay and ordered to take up a defensive maneuver in the area. The threat of British strikes against the French homeland was a high priority of the defense agenda, the highest.

An area, ominously enough, that was in reach of both French a British airpower.

The King had recently cut the ribbon of a new, high tech AA Defense grid surrounding Paris, and concentrating on Versailles itself.

In a show of Force, the Minister of War dispatched the 1st Army, one-hundred thousand ‘Sons of St. Louis’ (the first of the new ministers planned ‘ten armies for the King) were dispatched to Normandy to assure the Subjectry Louis-Auguste was always in firm control. They were for the most part veterans, and so were not as green as the hundreds of thousands mustering right now in the Champs des Mars. Additionally squadrons of Mairage-2000’s and Dassault Rafale’s were also moved into the northern defense grid of the Royal Air Command in Grenoble’s chart. Additionally, the uber-elite 1st Royal Army Korean Heavy Infantry Division was moved into Cherbourg itself by priority rail transit

If need be, the King’s army would be forced to invade the Channel Islands, but hopefully the British could limit their ambitions elsewhere.

Mumbai

News of the Franco-Spanish assaults on Gibraltar and Portugal doesn't come as much of a surprise, but the incredible brutality of the attack does send many Unioners into an unusually furious mood. UGC was, after all, first tested on INA troops during the crossing of the Chambal, and it had incensed the usually disciplined Union infantrymen so that they summarily executed almost all the Rajasthani G.91 pilots. Parliament is, therefore, very quick to deliver a declaration of war.

"...The "Holy" League has made its position very clear through the barbaric attacks on Gibraltar and Portugal; no nation is safe from their armies, no people exempt from their ravenous appetite for exploitation! The League, France at its head, desires nothing short of world domination! We have no choice but to take action now, and to not let up until we have rid this earth of those inbred monsters who call themselves absolute monarchs! The Indian National Union, hear this, Louis and Philip, declares war Spain and France, until such time as they abandon all ill-begotten colonies and swear never to attempt such criminality again. Furthermore, I have been given the authority to declare all Union military facilities open to Walmingtonian usage. The people of Great Walmington will not stand alone in facing the great evil that is the League!"

With a frigate currently en route to Great Walmington, the Union's promise of aid, and its earlier pledges to help defend Gibraltar and Portugal, carry a little bit of weight, even if the two IAF squadrons and marine battalions aren't going to show up anytime soon. But Parliament knows what it is getting itself into, and is no stranger to conflicts for the long haul, as the Indo-Bedgellen War attests. And although Mumbai's traditional weapons supplier, Britain, doesn't look able to contribute very much, the Union is now largely able to meet its own needs.

In comparison to French and perhaps Spanish programs, the MoD's defense expansion is rather timid, reflecting the much more limited funding available to Mumbai. It starts by ordering HAL to return the 50-odd spare F(J).4 airframes to service and upgrade them to FGA.4 standard. HAL also recieves a commission for a further 37 Mi-8s and 20 Dhruvs. BrahMos production is made a high priority as well, and the MoD hopes to have at least enough missiles to outfit the Bengal-class corvettes in two months' time. UTS soon has its hands full as well, being saddled with an order for no fewer than six additional Bihar-class SSKs in addition to destroyer and frigate refits and the refurbishment of INS Miyako Jima[/b]. Like Great Walmington, the ground forces won't see any increases, being more than sufficient already to halt an Holy League designs on the subcontinent by itself, much more so when combined with the Commonwealth Guard Expert Corps.

INS [i]Ambajogai continues to putter towards Great Walmington the long way, rounding the Cape after making a short stop at the Bedgellen base on Zanzibar. Currently, it is the only one of the new ships considered fit to undertake combat operations, although the rest of the Type 22s and Type 42s are indeed progressing on schedule, and is therefore the only IN ship with the required range not already deployed to Sujava. Some Para-Sappers might just make a showing, should arrangements with the ANP end up being worked out. There is also very serious talk of sending the IN's two Bihar-class SSKs on station in the Mozambique Channel to Great Walmington's immediate aid, but the MoD isn't entirely sure that the RN has the right support infrastructure for the subs' AIP powerplants.

Eventually, though, Mumbai plans not only to avenge Gibraltar, and intends to do it with more than a single frigate.

From Sithin and Jakarta, yet more voices join the chorus of condemnations over Franco-Spanish actions in Gibraltar. The ghosts of Mergui and the charred cities of the Baltic states find resurrection in Strainist propaganda broadcasts, while Strainist embassy staff in Lisbon vow to join the city's defence.

Such token participation is, however, the likely limit of Strainist involvement in a European war, and no declarations of war are issued... given that measures related to such declarations are already practiced unofficially vis-a-vis League shipping in Strainist waters, there seems little point... at least until Walmington's traditional Elian and NATO allies have taken a stand.

Portuguese Army Headquarters, Montemor-O-Novo
General Jean Larzon was nervous, as he damn well should be. The Spanish had penetrated over fifty miles of Portuguese territory, tearing up the 8th Infantry Regiment, and pushing back parts of other units. But Larzon had gotten to lay his trap. The Spanish armour was well ahead of the Spanish mechanised infantry which were still in Estremoz, and he had held his three cavalry regiments back just for this purpose. These, along with two infantry regiments, would form his only defense of Lisbon, and he would attempt to gain the most time as humanly possible by pushing back the Spanish advance. His plan was relatively simple. His armour would unleash a fury upon the Spanish vanguard, pushing its flanks back and he could hopefully sorround the Spanish mechanised division around Estremoz. He would be forced to break the siege, of course, as he hadn't the manpower to comit to such an encriclement for a while - knowing that the Spanish would try to reopen it as quickly as possible - but, it would give him the time needed, and it would shake the Spanish morale. And so Larzon prepared to give the order for the commencement of Operation LAZARUS - the Portuguese counterattack.

The commander of the 3rd Cavalry Regiment, which had been pushed out of Estremoz, was there with him, attempting to iron out final details. But he seemed solemn and skeptical. Looking at the map he said, "I don't think we'll succeed. Doing this in a conventional war, sure, but we don't have airpower. Our armour will simply open itself to bombardment from the skies. It's suicide."

Larzon knew the other man was right, of course, but he had no other option. He looked into the other man's eyes and replied, "Elodio, what other choice do we have? If we sit we will be flanked and destroyed by superior Spanish armour and by their airpower. Only through a counteroffensive can be hope to stun the Spaniards enough to buy us an extra day. Tomorrow the reserves at Lisbon will be partially ready. They will die, of course, but that will be five thousand more men to defend towns between us and Lisbon, which should be even more time."

Elodio still wasn't bought, "And how much time do we need?"

This Larzon didn't know, but he said, "As much as possible. The British will most likely be able to ship a rapid reaction force to the area within three to four days. As much as possible my friend."

"Are you crazy? You might as well surrender while you're still alive! We don't have four days!"

Larzon nodded, "I know. But this is our country we're speaking about. Do what you can."

LAZARUS, Santa Justa
Brigadier General Elodio arrived to his brigade about thirty minutes later by car, and he immediately set to work preparing for the jump start of the operation. The operation was scheduled to begin at noon, and that meant he only had an hour to finalize preperations. But his men should have been aware enough. He handed out last minute ammunition, while rearranging anti-air batteries to protect against almost constant Spanish tactical air raids. They were lucky that the French hadn't staged the same raid they had over the Gibraltar. That would have most certainly persuaded Lisbon that it was time to hand over the reins to Madrid. That was something the nation could not risk. Emotion and determination filled Elodio, who was ready to give his life for the safety of Portugal. With that he set out to his tank and then rolled over to the front of his brigade. The sixty tanks or so were arrayed beautifully, like one had not seen tanks since the Second World War. They made them an easy target for strafe runs, but the last raid had come ten minutes ago. Insofar intervals were much longer than that, and Elodio decided to take the risk, in exchange for a much larger dramatic effect in the eyes of his fellow tankers. He would need as much dark emotion as he could get in this tank battle to come.

"Children of Portugal, your nation calls upon you to defend it from the fascist! We have arrayed an impressive array of over one hundred and eighty tanks, against their own hordes, and we are prepared to take this war to the next level. A Portuguese counter-attack! You should well know of the operation by now, but I can only guarantee success. When these Spanish mongrols are defeated then we can roll all the way to Madrid!" His men cheered at that, although all of them knew of that impossibility. But he did not relent, "Today the largest armoured battle since the Six Day War will take place. Over one hundred of our best tanks will be clashing against hundreds of Leopards. Their tanks are better than ours, sure, but their crews do not have the fervour of a thousand storms. Are you with me?" The tankers around him cheered in a wild craze and he knew the time was right. "And so we ride!"

With that his driver, on cue, turned away and started to charge through the fields of central Portugal. The other tanks followed behind him and started to disperse. They were going to strike at a wide front. Elodio took a look at his watch and he noted that by this time the 2nd Lancers Regiment should have begun the offensive as well. The 4th was to stay on reserve to reinforce any parts that needed reinforcing. Behind them would follow one of two infantry regiments, providing much needed ground support to mop-up any breakthroughts the Portuguese armour was able to create. There would, unfortunately, be none.

4th Armoured Company, 1st Cavalry Brigade
Vidal had already been given the order to carry out his mission, so his company was found to be in the lead of a much larger battalion designed to blunt the Portuguese sword. His lost Leopard had been reinforced and he now was full strength. They were pitting around sixty Leopard 2Es against the Portuguese center, while he knew at least twenty Leopard 2A4s were in the north providing much needed coverage on the Spanish Estremoz flank. There would be many more Portuguese tanks to begin with, but Spanish airpower would soon bring them down to size. He looked above as he saw four Eurocopter Tigres, a home production, scanning the horizon, beautifully armed with a myriad of HOT-3 anti-tank missiles, the 30mm cannon and four Mistral air to air missiles. They were flying low, like usual, avoiding the sporadic Chaparrals Portugal had left after the near constant bombarding all morning, and Vidal could see blinding flashes of light erupt from behind their stub pylons, revealing hot trailed anti-tank missiles flying towards invisible targets beyond the horizon. Good, they were doing their work.

His company continued rolling at around thirty kilometers per hour, hoping to begin the engagement soon. Air cover would end soon enough for him, as when the battle begun the tanks would be far too intermixed to properly engage Portuguese tanks embroiled in the fight. Of course, that didn't include F.1s, Typhoons and F-18s destroying their armoured and ground reserves. Vidal knew that ultimately the airpower would win the war for Spain quickly. There was simply no way the Portuguese could survive a war for over a day in the uncovered plains of central Portugal. Spain's aerial capabilities were just too strong. Ironically, Spain's capabilities as compared to the English or to the French were as proportionate to Portugal's to Spain, but that would soon change as twenty new Eurofighters would join Spain's ranks by the next month, and many more helicopters.

This time he didn't look up as the whine of turbofans zipped right over him. Eurofighter Typhoons were carving up the lands beyond him, in preperation for one of the largest armoured battles to occur in history. Vidal always had a love for the dramatic. He could see the faint glow of fires in front of him and he made a note of heading for that point - that was most likely where enemy armour was going to be located at. With that he buttoned himself up inside the tank and waited.

3rd Cavalry Regiment
Elodio scowled as the last Eurofighter left. His Chaparrals had only claimed one kill, and when it did it had itself been knocked out by another aircraft. Beyond that he had lost over twenty tanks to Eurofighters and Tiger helicopters! That was one third of his strength! The casualties had been heavy without him even firing a shot at the Spanish armour. Drat them! But he charged ahead anyways. Lisbon would not allow him to pull off from the operation at this point. It was too late to do anything of the like. He grunted, knowing his death was assured. Then he saw his targets and he buttoned up. Looking at the screens around him inside his cabin he could read that they were at around four thousand meters range. They would soon begin to engage with their moder and advanced German gunnery, and he would have to wait until he got closer. He shut his eyes for a brief second - this would be a slaughter. He heard a thud and instantly knew that one of his tanks had been hit and most likely knocked out. With no further adue he yelled through his general radio, "Weapons free!"

The M60s opened up with their 105mm rifled guns, trying to hit Spanish armour from afar. But to no avail. They either missed or the rounds harmlessly bounced off the Spanish frontal arc. Of course, they did some damage, but no damage was truly important except a mobility kill or a straight through knock out. But better think of the job at hand, he thought to himself. They hadn't expected that the Spanish armour attack simultanuously. They caught the Portuguese by suprise, and how ironic that was seeing as that was the job of the Portuguese as well! Lazarus failed the time it began. Within the first few minutes of the engagement the Leopard 2s had done insurmountable damage to his brigade, and even up close the Leopard 2s were more manueverable, more powerful, better armoured and faster. His regiment was outmatched anyway you looked at it. Quite the pain to accept.

Elodio's turret turned to have a Leopard right within his sights and the gunner yelled, "Sabot!" The steel cage shuddered as the round left the muzzle and within a few seconds impacted the Leopard. The turret had already moved for a new target, but Elodio looked to see the damage done. The Leopard was steaming and he saw a sabot hole in the side turret armour. It had been knocked out. Cheers ran through the tank's hull but he snapped, "Quiet! Only three hundred of these to go before we're at Madrid."

But it was a lost battle. Elodio, nor anybody else in the tank, had noticed the Leopard in between two rows of vines at around two thousand meters distance, and they certainly did not notice the moving tungsten penetrator. Time slowed as Elodio heard the thin armour of the M60 shred like paper in the face of the incoming penetrator. He was dead before he knew it. A shard of the tungsten piece sliced his head down the center of his brain, moving at over two thousand metres per second. The shard struck through the breech, knitting that too, and then stopped halfway penetrating the other side. With Elodio dead, and burning tanks around him, the offensive was donewith only forty-five minutes after it had begun. It had been quiet a waste of manpower - a poorly planned debacle. Portugal had lost her best tanks, tankers and commander.

4th Armoured Company, 1st Cavalry Brigade
Vidal felt sad as he popped outside his turret hatch to survey the damage the battalion had done. It was an orchestra of slaughter. Burnt out Portuguese tanks littered the countryside, side by side, and he could only see a few fleeing west. These would be picked up by incoming Eurofighters. He counted as many as he could. He himself had knocked out at least eight, which made him, most likely, an armour ace. His gunner was keeping the accurate dibs - he would have to ask the man later. Nevertheless, over twenty-five Portuguese wrecks, carred and collapsed, dotted the area around them. The Portuguese armour had been crushed, and similar reports were coming from the north. The entire thing had happened so fast that the Portuguese couldn't introduce their reserves. Instead, they had been caught with retreating tanks from their own side, and incoming bogies. They had been sliced apart too.

But his own casualties were high too. Eight Leopard 2s had been knocked out at close range. To the north reports of four Leopard 2A4s dead were coming in. That meant no less than twelve tanks. For something that was supposedly far more advance than anything the Portuguese could put on the ground, their slaughter had not come without their own blood. Nevertheless, over a hundred tanks destroyed for just twelve of their own was a good proportion, Vidal mused. He had had his armoured battle, although it had been quite short, and now he was preparing to march all the way to Lisbon. His unit had been redeployed off the vanguard, noting that the 4th had been the spearhead since 0300 hours - that meant ten hours already. Others were overruning to Portuguese infantry regiments that had been earmarked for the counterattack but were simply not fast enough. As his rolled along in the rear he could see burnt Portuguese APCs, either M113s or Chaimites and Commandos. The defense of Lisbon had been torn apart, and now the road was wide open.

Nevertheless, resistance continued. But the advance for the first day had gone quite much further than originally expected. Setubal had been captured by the day's end, which put them no more than thirty miles away from Lisbon. That was an hour's ride. But they had to rest and await supplies as well. The final operations of the war would begin the next day, in another pre-dawn strike. Nevertheless, they had made very good headway, and when he arrived at his headquarters reports were that the 1st Mechanised Division had reached the northern outskirts of Lisbon, setting up their siege to the north. Lisbon would fall - there was no doubt about that. The British didn't have enough time to reinforce it. With Lisbon would fall the Portuguese mainland, and they would then force the government to cede the Azores to Spain. The Spanish blitzkrieg had worked.

Secret communique to London

In light of recent events, China is prepared to offer miltary assistance against the buildup of forces in Spain and the events in Portugal. Chinese equipment can be airlifted to England via the United States inside three day, and naval forces can arrive inside 2 months.

A declaration of war against France and Spain would follow.

Gibraltar Harbour

It would have come as quite a surprise to the defenders of The Rock to see a Roycelandian Dreadnought sailing into the harbour as the bombs and shells rained around it, flying the flag for "Parley".

The ship's Motor Launch, along with the First Officer, would indicate to whoever was in charge that Roycelandia had not yet made a declaration of War, and that as the crew had taken a vote and decided they had no quarrel with Britain, that they were offering their services to evacuate the wounded to either Roycelandian East Africa or the Cape Verde Islands.

OOC: Royce, it should be ... noted... that there's a huge Spanish fleet right outside the Gibraltar, Atlantic Side, and an even larger French fleet on the Mediterranean Side.]

Gibraltar, España: 0430
The invasion had gone unusually since the French had begun their more than massive bombing raid over the Gibraltar, and the armour's blitz through the airfield had gone particularly well. There had been hints that the British were retreating to the more urban territory that was the city, obviously trying to stunt Spanish growth by putting up a formidable urban defense. The French bombings, however, had compromised their positions in the city by flattening it. There were disadvantages to the French bombings though. The British that remained how had made shelters and rubble to defend from, while the harbour was rendered unusable. In fact, the latter was in shambles and it had been an objective to use it to harbour further Spanish expansions on their fleet, but it wouldn't be used for quite a long while. Professional construction estimates claimed that the French Spanish ships would be able to enter the harbour within four to five months. Until then there would have to be short expansions at Algeciras, and Cadiz would remain the largest Spanish port in southern Spain, with Barcelona and Cartagena as secondary ports in the Mediterranean, and Bilbao and other cities along the Galician coast in the Atlantic and Bay of Biscay. The Spanish Armada, of course, had been used to this since 1713, but they had wanted to take advantage of the Gibraltar first thing - it seemed as if that was an impossibility, so to say.

Major de la Ruiz's battalion which had landed on Bleak Beach was equally as suprised to see British units moving back into the city, and he was quick to take advantage of this. Meaning clearing personnel began their work and his battalion was soon into Europe Plains, just south of the city. In other words, the city was fully enveloped and the fighting would be contained there. The general plan was to have both battalions come in from either side and crush the little British resistance left with overwhelming power. The 155s at Algeciras had been moved elsewhere to avoid their destruction if the British, or their allies, came back, but the fourty 155s at Campamento continued to shower British remainders with impunity, along with help from two squadrons of Eurofighters which alternated attack runs to make their appearance fairly constant. In other words, it was safe to say that the Gibraltar had fallen and was now Spanish territory.

The airfield would have to be refurbished and rebuilt, and Spain would soon have three new squadrons of Rafael attack aircraft coming fresh from France to protect their southern coast. These would make their home at the new airfield at Gibraltar, aptly named Phillip Military Aviation Field, and they would be fully paid for by the Spanish government within six to eight months. That was another thing. Spain was becoming bankrupt. Her debts to her own companies at home would be paid off over years, but she could not do that to ally industries. Nevertheless, Madrid was intent on continuing the refurbishment plan, although some of her 'wonder weapons', like the Ocelot main battle tank, would be to be postponed untiled they got some of their more important priorities in order, such as replacing the units lost during the war. Nevertheless, Spain's economy was not about to stagnate, if one was to ask. The massive industrial expansions throughout Spain were aiding in increasing capital investment in the country, despite the murderous trade restrictions soon emplaced around the world. The Holy League, fortunately enough, was somewhat self sufficient, and trade with United Elias continued to flourish. Spanish trade with South America also continued, given that the South Americans had historically been rather close to Spain post-occupation in the early 19th century. Nevertheless, it was a dire situation.

In any case, the occupation of the city continued little by little. Spanish units advanced house to house, from the north, east and south, and had their artillery and aircraft destroy stronger emplacements. The city itself was already rubble, but the Spaniards helped complete the job somewhat. It would have to be rebuilt. But it would be rebuilt with the city's coffers, not Madrid's coffers. British citizens and soldiers surrended in droves once it was obvious that they were going to lose the battle quickly, and that no help could come. A Roycelandian battleship had risked penetrating the Spanish fleet outside of Cadiz, and Spain had not opened fire, but it had boosted morale. The Spanish fleet frantically attempted to contact her and tell her to get out of there or she risked getting her keel snapped in half by mines, or by an aircraft that didn't know better. In fact, it was made obvious to the Royce I that Spain would open fire on the battleship if it was seen that the ship gave potential harm. Regardless, any surrendered soldiers and civilians were sent walking north, with enough guards, and then they were taken by train to Madrid. They would have no harm come to them and they would be treated like kings, but it would cost Britain to get them back - the initial price was set at two million per head, and at over four thousand surrendered, that was a lot of money - money that could be spent rebuildings things faster.

The important part was that southern Spain had finally been reunified. Beforehand, during the democracy that Spain was after the del Bosch regime, she had promised to give Ceuta and Melilla back to Morocco should Britain give the Gibraltar back to Spain. Phillip, attempting to appease United Elias and keep Morocco happy as well - as he had plans for the Western Sahara - decided to call for a conference with Rabat and UE in which he would offer Melilla back to the Moroccan crown should Morocco offer to allow Spain hegemony in the Western Morocco. He had more to offer, as well, including over five hundred [including captured Portuguese tanks; although Portugal has not yet fallen in the RP] upgraded M60 Patton tanks [which could go either to Morocco, a home Portuguese army, or Mexico if Spizania is accepted] and other weapons which Morocco could use. That, however, would have to be stamped out in the conference.

But, alas, the first blow against Britain had been struck, and Britain was given a choice. It could accept its fate as no longer a power in the Mediterranean, or it could risk loosing thousands of lives in a war in which it would not win. It might have won it at sea, along with her allies, but it would never win it on the mainland. This time, they didn't have powerful friends on the mainland, like they did two times before.

Raleigh, Australasia

Prime Minister Andrew Strathairn was furious. It wasn't a common thing to see him so undone, the tall thin man was known for his composure and his calm, staid manner of speech. His party had nicknamed him "The Iron Duke" for that reason, the opposition called him the "Tin Man". But today he fumed. He'd fired off stinging messages of official displeasure at the governments of France and Spain, excoriating their leaders and saying that 'further information was to follow' about the Australasian position on the matter. And that was why, for the second time in a day, he stood at the Ironwood Podium. This time, though, he was there to speak a different message.

"I come not to bring peace, but a sword." His voice shook, and his hands gripped the podium. "I fear, ladies and gentlemen, that I must eat my previous words. A few hours ago, as you know, I came urging calm (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11081831&postcount=265), peace," he spat the word, "upon the nations of this earth. I fear that I must now say the opposite.

"You have read the newspapers, seen the reports. Louis-Auguste of France and Philip IV of Spain have been engaged in the buildup of forces along the Portuguese border and the Conception Line for some time. As with many in this government, we believed that the Spanish and French would retain some small measure of sanity, and agree to peaceful solutions. As it were, we were terribly wrong. The French and Spanish have launched a combined and savage blitzkrieg upon Portugal and Gibraltar. The situation is grave.

"It is for this reason that I have come to you today for the second time. In light of the unprovoked and savage attacks upon Great Walmington and Portugal, I see it necessary for this government to take decisive action. I would also like to address Louis-Auguste and Philip IV, the despots of France and Spain.

"Philip IV; I once saw you as a minor threat, a paper tiger who clung to your brother's coattails and dreamed of glory dead and gone. Congratulations, sir, I now see you as a depraved madman. Not only do you claim divine rulership of Spain, brainwash your people with your propaganda and serve those of the Holy League who would corrupt Christianity to serve their own ends, you see it as necessary to slaughter the citizens of Gibraltar by the use of phosphorous bombs. You see it as your divine right to steal the ancestral homeland of the Portuguese, to swallow it whole and entire.

"Louis-Auguste of France, you disgust me. You always have. You call for crusades to destroy all who stand for freedom of religion and of politics. You call for the destruction of reason and the return to the Dark Ages. You say that you serve God, but instead serve only yourself and your mad desire for conquest. I submit that you are an unfit ruler of the people of France, an unfit king and and unfit human being. Your earthly sins are manifold, and it is my intent to see you tried in a temple of Justice, rather than a church. And it is my intent to see that you be put away in a dark hole in some Godforsaken island for the rest of your life."

Strathairn took a very deep breath and shut his eyes. Probably a diplomatic faux-pas there. But the bastards deserved every word and more. Let them burn in hell. He inclined his head for a moment before continuing:

"To the people of both France and Spain, be it known that I reserve my enmity for your leaders. Be it known that I, too, am a Christian. And be it known that I hold your beliefs in the highest esteem. I urge you, as human beings and as Christians, to speak out agains the horrors your governments commit every day. The secret police that your despots operate are strong. But you are stronger. Your numbers are greater, your voices louder. I encourage you; in the name of Christ, to stand up for what He did. To stand for justice and freedom. To stand against the Roman Empire of today, the Holy League.

"Members of Parliament, you have seen the news. You know of the numbers of people dead, of the atrocities commited in this young war. You have seen the photographs, as the young men of Gibraltar burned alive. I call upon you, in their name, to declare war upon France and Spain. I call upon you to further vest full military authority in the Minister of Defence. I call upon you to allow the deployment of Expeditionary Forces One, Three and Five to the European Theatre. It is of the utmost importance that you do this. We must show despots not just in France and Spain, but the world over, that we do not tolerate the subjugation of people anywhere.

"Lastly, to Great Walmington and Portugal. We stand with you. We stand with you against the Spanish and the French, against all who would see you dead. We stand with you in the name of freedom and human rights." Strathairn's vision began to fog. He blinked once, twice.

"It has been over half a century since these words were last uttered here, but I would ask you all to join me in the Salute one last time. We have learnt it in history classes, read of it in books. But this time, this last time, I feel it appropriate." He took a breath. If they didn't say it, this would go down as his most foolish moment in the history of his term.

"God save the King." But they did all say it. Nearly everyone in the room. The Ironwood Podium actually shivered a bit. Andrew Strathairn smiled sadly. World War Three was upon him.

Atlantic Ocean near Plata Province, Australasia

Vice-Admiral Hugo Damascus hadn't been aboard his wartime flagship in a good while. What little time he spent at sea, rather than behind his stuffy little desk shoreside, was aboard one of the hideous new command cruisers with the massive superstructure and the dreadful roll. But the Battleship Collingwood was a beautiful ship. She was big and fast, savagely armed and massively armoured. One of just five heavy battleships in the entire Australasian Navy, she was absurdly expensive but able to go toe-to-toe with almost any ship afloat.

But he wasn't feeling the usual thrill now, the usual glory. That was gone. In its place was a hard edged, gut churning fear. He was going to war. His fleet would be going into battle against far superior forces. They might not win.

Off the larboard side, the Battle Carrier Stormhawk was being loaded with the last of the new fighters. He'd seen them a few months back, looking oddly tame with their rounded fuselages and trapezoidal wings. Not too impressive, but certainly cutting-edge and fancy. To Starboard, the Battlecruisers Temeraire and Tonnant were under steam, heading out to join the van. Seven fast attack cruisers and four guided missile cruisers formed the rest of the heavy forces, while the edges of the fleet were guarded by fifteen odd destroyers and another nine corvettes. Six submarines trailed the fleet at a distance.

When Damascus looked at his fleet, he saw the pride and joy of Australasia. Technically designated the Atlantic Fleet, it was known to most, rather sophomorically, as the Black Fleet. It made sense why; each ship was coated in black paint, a slightly unwise decision that stemmed from a traditon that had long since lost meaning separate from itself. The ships were black because they had been black for a long time. Damascus had toyed with the idea of painting them some other colour, but his flag-captain had informed him that it might start a small riot. So black the ships were.

He didn't imagine that they would look terribly reassuring to the Portuguese and the British, but against the white ships of the Holy League, they might provide an interesting contrast. Although not, perhaps, one that would favour the Australasian PR department.

Gibraltar

Having at least made the air assault on Gibraltar a fight in the barest sense, the two Harrier IV, light on fuel after taxing turns of speed and changing altitude and having taken-on vertically from a ruined airport, had expended their missile armament and were able to see that they wouldn't be landing to take on more arms or fuel. They could also see the town burning, and as they flew over, trying to decide what to do with their planes and themselves, one pilot, called Castillo, could even see that the apartment block in which he'd left his young family was totally gutted.

Below, many Home Guard members were stunned, wandering away from their posts, some of which couldn't have been held for long anyway, to search for loved ones in the ruin of a town. A good number of the volunteers were already dead, most killed by the chemical attack, but a handful remained in position, tin hats on and 17" bladed bayonets fixed.

Castillo could see elements of the Royal Gibraltar Regiment moving to support a desperate sally by the garrison from the main town against the southern landing by the Spanish, while Home Guardsmen in the built-up Europa Flats plateau tried to occupy the battalion advancing there. A few snipers, machinegun nests, and the odd anti-tank missile post just south of the airfield tried to delay forces coming from the north while this happened.

The attack was conducted after two mortar teams dropped a few bombs each and displaced, retiring to the rock itself. Three hundred and sixty regulars and fifty-one men from the regiment following Colonel Square formed the body of the assault, while two-dozen volunteer defenders on the flats tried to engage the Spanish battalion with less than expert bursts of Bren gun fire and the spilling and burning of what fuels had not been ignited in the bombing, plus two light mortars handed-over by the army. The soldiers came with bayonets fixed to their SA80s, while more than a few had underslung grenade launchers that replaced the mortars they'd given to the Home Guard. A couple of LAW units were brought and readily expended, too.

More soldiers survived than joined the attack, of course, but fires and the rest of Spain's forces, the fact that time was against the defenders, and general chaos caused by the murderous chemical attack meant that the four-hundred-odd were all that could be co-ordinated for the mission.

Castillo's plane dropped down over Bleak Beach, the pilot saying nothing. His partner, noticing that his own plane was trailing smoke and having just seen the ruined apartment in which his friend's family perished, moved to follow, not really knowing why. Castillo raced over the advancing troops and towards de la Ruiz's force, coming in so fast and low that it was a minor miracle that he hadn't crashed in the first seconds. Eyes straining against the darkness, he began to empty the Super Harrier's reserve of 27mm Mauser ammunition against men whose heads were in almost as much danger of being hit by the plane as by the shells.

The second plane followed, but higher and slower, Castillo's partner struggling against more damage than he'd initially thought inflicted on his plane. He soon began to lose altitude, however, and was almost out of fuel. He clipped a couple of bursts from his cannon without managing to aim well and soon gave-up the enterprise as utterly useless in his plane's condition.

Corpral McManaman, having seen Castillo eject a split second before his plane crashed, and being still able to see the flames backlighting the rock, wondering if the monkeys had left, guided his limping steed out over the water. Castillo had punched-out with his Browning automatic prepared to register the rest of his complaint against the probable death of his wife and child, but his comrade in arms did not relish the possibility of capture by enemies who would do what these had inflicted upon the people of Gibraltar.

Without having consciously decided to do it, McManaman found himself singing as he lined-up his ailing machine against the outline of what must be a Catholic warship some way out and burned the last of his fuel in a transsonic game of chicken from which he had no intention of pulling out. "...send him victorious, happy and glorious" he sang, half humming, "long to reign over us, God save the King!" A bang and shudder that did not agree with the sick machine interrupted for a moment as the Corpral pushed his advanced Harrier through the sound barrier. "...O Lord, our God, arise, scatter his enemies, and..." That was the end of Gibraltar's RAF presence.

At St.Bernard's Hospital off the northern stretch of Europa Road, Home Guard units were mostly involved in trying to fight fires on the hospital grounds and in bringing burns victims and other injured to what remained of facilities. There was almost as much fear in the air as there was smoke, and rifle positions and machinegun nests were being established even around the hospital, as the slaughter of civilians left few confident of proper treatment by an enemy apparently unable to engage in civilised discourse. One of the wounded brought in suffering especially badly was barely identifiable as Chief Minister the Lady Maltby.

Elsewhere, the first surrenders were taking place where the situation was too desperate for any kind of fear to prevent their necessity.

London

Following a positive Chinese communiqué, for which the government expressed relief and thanks, several recently detained businessmen accused of 'immoral practice' in some way related to trade with China, diplomacy, or investment in that still expanding economy were quietly released from custody. Similar things happened for suspects with links to important people in Australasia.

Political and military leaders from nations prepared to fight against the Holy League were invited to Wellington, in the Wendsleybury Islands (otherwise known as New Zealand) to discuss co-ordinated military action. The combined Atlantic fleets of Britain and Australasia (via its South American holdings) are hailed as sufficient to take the fight to France and Spain, and Roycelandia is begged to decide against aiding the Holy League and instead attend to the pressing need to avoid having its head knocked-off by India, China, and their other temporary allies.

British warships patrol sealanes in the North Atlantic and surrounding seas, now waiting the outcome of any multi-national discussions on the possible assembly of a combined fleets operation against the continentals. With five Australasian battleships added to Walmington's two plus her fleet carriers and submarines, a fairly serious propaganda effort is directed at the Royal Navy and its foreign partners.

Meanwhile, some troops from the few thousand still in Strathdonia are moved to the Indian Ocean Territory, where London was still terrified that United Elias may show bias towards the League and its allies, and MI6 agents in Malaysia started to take an interest in Brunei while London appealed to Baghdad to stand against the imperialist League and help to restore the proper order of things.

The Strainist Party announces its intent to send delegates to the joint action conference in Wellington.

[OOC:
[Royce, it should be ... noted... that there's a huge Spanish fleet right outside the Gibraltar, Atlantic Side, and an even larger French fleet on the Mediterranean Side.]
I think the Roycelandians would be pretty confident about just sailing through League shipping, especially the French... one would hardly expect that the League would fire on them given the relatively close Versailles-Port Royal relationship, wartime allies or no].

Televisión Española; Broadcasted by Satellite
King Phillip VI entered tired into the broadcasting room inside the Royal Palace at Aranjuez, right outside Madrid. The royal palace in Madrid had been left by paranoid family members and Phillip had no choice but to follow. If the war began to tumble out of hand he would, of course, return to Madrid, but until then he would have to control what he could from Aranjuez. Some of the nobility had urged him to move to some of the palaces north, but Phillip had negated each and every one of them with looks of disgust and pity - cowards. He had agreed with the rest of the world that the French bombings had been a bit excessive, and although it had driven a message of fear to Portugal he really believed that Spain could have done without them. But, alas, France was an ally and Phillip was more than thankful for that, and secretly he sent a communiqué to his royal brethren in Versaille giving his thanks to the French for their valiant task in aiding their southern brothers, and promised that all debts to French armament industries would be paid off as quickly as Spain could. But the war was really impacting Phillip, and one could see his back droop and purple bags under his eyes. Of course, for television he was prepared exquisitely, but one could only drop to their knees in pity when they saw him in private.

As he entered the room, make-up already tagged along his face, he sat down in his makeshift seat, across a beautiful pine table. Behind him was a painting of the taking of Breda - of course, the Spanish taking of Breda; although the Dutch siege of Breda was perhaps much more historical and a much better operation, he had to show some sort of Spanish power, did he not? The camera man gave Phillip the warning that he would start to roll and Phillip drew a deep breath. The camera light showed red and he waited two seconds before speaking. Finally, he began, "Brethren across the world. In the morning hours of this very day Spain and France launched a cooperative attack on the Gibraltar. By noon we had sparked a war that can become the next world war. We have been hounded at all sides by Britain, Australasia, Hindustan, Spyr and the Chinese. They claim that a great atrocity was comitted against the people of the Gibraltar! Ironically, I must conceed the point. In the early minutes of the operation Algerian bombers managed to level most of the city using phosphorous and thick burning bombs. It was a massacre. And although we are at war and binded by no international laws, it truly was a non-conventional strike."

He drew another breath and then continued, "Our previous policy of returning prisoners of war for two million per head has been suspended for those relevant to the Gibraltar. All prisoners of war, including military and civilian, will be sent to Bilbao by train. Should the British allow three Spanish civilian cruiseliners will take them aboard and send them to any British port that they please. All we ask in return is that our enemies show the Spanish people no hatred. This war is inevitable, it seems, with more and more enemies ganging on us. France will not back out and Spain will not back out. I, as king of Spain, am very optimistic that we will not lose. It will be a bloody, bloody war. Our fleets may sink, although this is doubted as well, and they will still not win. I hand out the olive branch to London and call for peace - to accept that they are no longer powers in the Mediterranean, and to give Spain what is hers. If London should progress in this petty retaliation they call a war they will only see their fathers and their children massacred by Spanish swords."

He felt tired all of a sudden, but remained composed and finished quickly, "I have already begun the demilitarisation of Melilla, except for a detachment to defend against possible attack. Madrid will hold talks with Rabat and do as promised - return Melilla to her rightful owners. Ceuta at this point is not in question, but we are sure that Rabat will come to terms with us and understand our situation. The world will soon see that Spain is not a monster, but it is their governments that claim she is a monster - Spain is simply a titan."

Gibraltar, España
One of the F-100 class Frigates, previously escorting the armada outside of the straits, had quickly trailed the Roycelandian battleship and in front of her began to shell the Gibraltar with her five inch guns, basing coordinates on struggling infatry. It was hoped that her presence would stimulate a faster general surrender. British citizens able to make it on the battleship were left alone, although the captain of the F-100 had more than once thought about machinegunning them. He had also seen the two Harrier IVs strafe Spanish infantry positions to the north, and then one hit the floor as it ran out fuel, with tracers right behind it. The other he decided to dispatch himself, but then it too dissapeared in flames. A shame - he could have claimed an aerial kill. His single Seahawk was south of him, scouting for submarines in the Gibraltar Straits, although nothing would pop up. He then could see British resisting in the Europa flats and he used his five incher to pound that to smithereens while he could.

The fighting died down as the day progress and in the afternoon it was over. THe Gibraltar was officialy Spanish. The toll had been high, as the British resisted rather well. Over sixty Spanish dead in the entire operation, although the constant artillery bombardment, the tanks and then the frigate had helped keep casualties lower than they could have gone. In the end the Gibraltar would be occupied by a single battalion, as the rest of the four thousand six hundred men of El Tercio were moved north to defend against possible British incursions in that area. The beginning of the war was just about to end, especially with the final Spanish onslaught in Portugal manifesting itself the very next day. But although Spain had seemed to one the first few rounds, the match was far from over and Spain's days seemed numbered - even to her own government. But as Phillip said, Spain would not back out now. If her enemies tried to convince her by force of arms they would simply sign off thousands of their men to their deaths.

By the end of the day there were plans to begin drafting Spain's reserves, and increasing the armed forced from 80,000 professional soldiers to over 200,000 by the very next month, although most would need more than that to properly train. Within three to four months one could expect over half a million men prepared to go to war - that is, properly trained. If Spain found herself in dire straights before that she could simply mobalise all these men as soon as possible - but one would rather prefer trained soldiers than rabble mass, or so would the generals suspect. The point was that Spain was evidently and very obviously preparing for a major war. If the world wanted to give it to her, she would accept.

Beijing has quickly dispatched a delegate to Wellington.

In other news, a large group of naval vessels has began a rapid journey towards the Panama canal.

The next day; Portugal
The assault towards Lisbon begun the very next morning, at around the same time it had kicked off the previous day. The Spanish forces were not getting much sleep, but it was imperative that they caught the Portuguese off guard. The four to five hours of lull in the war, at least in the center, allowed Lisbon to organise the little defenses it could put, including a reserve infantry regiment armed with whatever they could scrap up, including emergency British assault rifles. They would be easily swept aside by professional Spanish soldiers, but they would still induce casualties that could have better served later in the war. The faster the assault began the less time those bastards had proper time to prepare, and with taken into consideration the 1st Cavalry Brigade swept towards the southern surburbs of Lisbon. The trip northwards had little excitement - most last ditch defenses were destroyed by roaming Tiger attack helicopters or raiding Spanish attack aircraft. From afar one could see other aircraft making regular bombing runs into the city itself, most likely blowing up targets that Casa reconaissance aircraft above were picking for them. It wouldn't be long before the heavy armour was inside. For the fight mechanics had spent most of the night adding appliqué slat armour to all of the Spanish armoured fighting vehicles, in preperation for a very violent street to street fight.

Almada, the southern suburb to Lisbon, fell without much of a fight. Armoured infantry simply swept the city with heavy fire, while tanks provided make-shift artillery support. To the north tankers could hear firefights between mechanised formations sweeping in from the north and Portuguese defenders. They could also hear the destruction coming from constant air raids. It wouldn't be long before Lisbon fell to Madrid, and Spain would complete her hegemony over all of the Iberian Peninsula. Then her enemies would have to force theirs ways onto the continent, and there was no way in hell they would be able to succesfully do something of that nature in Spain without putting down hundreds of thousands of men and billions of dollars worth of munitions - all of which was not something the local European enemies, namely the British, could do without months of preperation.

Unfortunately for the cavalry it was found that the bridging from Almada to Lisbon proper had been destroyed by their own soldiers in a valiant attempt to stop the Spanish onslaught. Unfortunately, that also meant that the deployed units to the south could not fight against far greater numbers of Spanish infantry to the north. With that said the fight flag was lifted by Lisbon's government by 0800, and Portugal's official surrender scheduled for 1200. In the north fighting had ceased as the government sent frantic messages to her commanders explaining them the decision, and in the south most of the Portuguese units had been swept aside with heavy casualties on Spain's part. Nevertheless, operations in Portugal had been swift and decisive, and Spain had been successful in excluding major British participation in the early days of the war. Behind them dozens of tanks were left burning, and the carcasses of hundreds of men would have to be lifted and buried through the coming days. Over seven thousand Portuguese soldiers and civilians, but mostly soldiers, had died during operations throughout the entire country, and over seven hundred Spanish soldiers had also lost their life. These, however, were soldiers that Spain could ill afford to replace - replace them with conscripts.

Plans were already being concocted to give Portugal a new future. She would be cut into her original provences, keeping the same administrative organisation for simplicity, and she would be governed by a communal president voted in only by the 'Portuguese Free States'. The Portuguese Free States were like the Autonomous Communities of 'older Spain' [the '91-'06 Democracy], only more words than actual 'free'dom. The surviving Portuguese soldiers would be formed into a Portuguese Territorial Division, which Madrid had plans to expand into a Poruguese Territorial Army of some four infantry divisions and an armour division by the end of four to five months. For this she planned a massive propaganda campaign, sowing what Hitler had done in Austria - something of huge proportions which would attempt to explain the sudden annexation of the country as a unity between brothers, and nothing more than a united Iberian Empire. Indeed, just for show there were already ideas to have Portuguese citizens crown Phillip as their king. The Gibraltar, and her lack of people, would give Phillip the title of Duke of Gibraltar and he declared it as a subregion of Andalucia.

Portugal's downfall added around one hundred remaining M60 tanks to the Spanish armoury, and over three-fourths of Portuguese tanks knocked out would be refurbished in northern Portuguese factories, giving another seventy-five tanks or so to Spain. This gave Spain close to six hundred M60s total now, although when they were fully replaced by Leopard 2Es they would be sold either to Morocco or to Mexico. That said, Portuguese factories in northern Portugal would soon be converted to full war factories for the Spanish war machine, and it would be expanded using the Portuguese treasure to produce even more war material for the Spanish state. Portugal's navy was to be confiscated by the Spanish navy and crewed by the same sailors until Spanish replacements could be found - those that were found untrustworthy were later found dead, and they were replaced by Portuguese cronies who knew better. Unfortunately, Portuguese naval units in the Azores refused to surrender and instead turned themselves over to the British, as well as the islands. Spain would have to go for that if they wanted to - it had turned into a Crete, so to speak.

The most important part was that Portugal's surrender suddenly gave Spain a free hand to manuever elsewhere. Spain could either threaten the British navy and attempt an invasion of the Azores, or it could stay put until several building projects were completed - including three of her first cruisers and refurbishing her existing frigates with heavier arms and French/Spanish/Russian produced missiles. Rumours had it that they were also laying down the beginnings of a new Spanish battleship, the Reconquista, which would be completed within two to three years. But in any case, Spain saw other ways to hurt those who threatened her. Madrid saw it profitable to persuade Morocco to finish off the Polisario, and perhaps Phillip would even lend a helping hand - that would end Progressive influence so near to Spain. It would also bring Morocco politically closer to Madrid, and Spain did not need an enemy to the south - it needed a friend. If Morocco thought it better to stay strictly neutral Spain could always occupy the Western Sahara herself, and please Morocco with returning Melilla and selling them some more advance technology. Spain could also work on better immigration laws which would offer more of an advantage to Rabat, including a worker's program in which Moroccon workers could find something to do in Andalucia and freely return home to increase capital there.

There were other options, which included hitting Britain until they accepted peace, but that was improbable. Paris and Madrid would have to find time to talk.

((OOC- Okay guys, alot has just happened, and I think we need some time to organize our thoughts and posistions, this is a ajor war after all: at least I need time to think and abosrb for a bit. Especially with Australasian and Chinese involvelemnt, and an impending war in he Philippines...or has that been avoided? Can we hold off until maybe Tuesday evening for a series of totally comprehensive and responsive posts? We also really need AC to do some posting here too.

Im so sorry, but this is my favorite RP so far in AMW, and I dread loosing one second of it. I am not talking abot an hiatus, this is groovy RP, like the best Ive seen. Honestly, I have to administer final exams mon and tuesday, in Latin and Modern Historiography, plus a article fore the department due tue morn!, and am not even half way through writng them.

As an AMW buddy I hope, pretty please can we wait till tuesday, that will also give us time to do uber awesome posts. Again, I know this is alot to ask, but AMW means alot to me, alot as Im sure it does to you all as well. Please maybe do small RPs, but as I have major plans as well, just I beg you again.

After all, I consider you my good friends, from folks like Tias to Armand to the Chinas Spain to LLR and BG and Wallmington, Im Jean by the way, and my almost drinking buddy Royce, as good as friends as Ive ever meet in my real life. Thank you all for your consideration, and amity. You know, we all, by the GRace fo God, must get together one day, Amsterdam anyone ;) ))

(The idea of a break sounds nice, I'm supposed to be studying for finals ATM)

Morocco's diplomats in Madrid replied positively to an invitation for discussions regarding the possible return of the much resented Spanish enclaves to the Kingdom. Accompanied by UE officials, they would listen and consider any offer on the table, but Rabat was instinctively mistrustful of an historic enemy that was willing to give such concessions while at the same time being so belligerent against other powers. However, this could be explained by the fact that the regional strongman of United Elias was still behind them, without the support of which they would doubtless have become a Spanish vassal state already. Even the most fundamentalist Holy Leaguers perhpas would realise that creating a conflict with the Middle East superpower would cripple their economy, perhaps end their ambitions of Empire and more importantly provide a huge opportunity to the Progressives.

((I'm perfectly amenable to a pause in the action, NG... Jean. I've been trying to do some fairly serious design work on my forces and get an idea of how my nation's organized. Hopefully everything'll be more settled by Tuesday. I'm John, by the way, in case you were wondering.))

((OOC: All right, perhaps we'll start another thread for a meeting in Wellington, at which things can be discussed without much having actually to happen. Not sure whether to invite Roycelandia and/or United Elias! To UE, by the way- the Suez, is Britain's battleship going to be allowed to pass into the Med? If not, she's going back to Diego Garcia in one hell of a thanks for your sympathy in this time of national tradgedy bad mood, before visiting, ohh, I dunno, maybe Sabah and Sarawak [whistles]))

(Sorry WoS been meaning to post a reply to the UK requests but just havent had the time. Oh and please remember that you are only a tenant on Diego Garcia!)

The UK Ambassador in Baghdad is given rather less cordial treatment than before the election. He is sternly reprimanded for having the nerve to ask for UE's support whilst UE's corporate interests in the UK are threatened by its government, and the arrests of Conservative parliamentarians also adds to an increasing dissillusionment with the new Whig government. However, that being said, UE had yet to determine where its stood on the Med crisis, and for the moment would continue its neutrality. The UK is told that vessels of the Royal Navy would be treated like merchant traffic of any other nation, i.e they can transit the Suez canal after payment of the usual tariffs. Furthermore London is informed that UE would guarantee not to give any direct military assistance to the Holy League in the current circumstances.

Meanwhile, two British subjects are arrested by counter-intelligence officers in the Kingdom of Brunei, and the British consulate is informed that they are suspected of espionage. They are given the opportunity to claim the people being questioned providing that the two agents leave Brunei and never return to the Kingdom or to UE itself. It is made clear that this leniancy is a one-off and that any other British nationals arrested under similar circumstances would stand trial and likely face execution.

OOC- Hello John, Jean here. Small world huh?

Well, Ill be in a posistion to resume tonight or on the morrow...

Thank you all for your patience...I am flat out exhausted!

Oh Well, at least we know what well all be doing this summer:

nous nous mangeons hah hah

Thanks agiain...now...quid cogitone sum...

[OOC: Great! And, to follow in the 'small world' trend, I live only about 120 miles south of you! In any case, I will post tomorrow morning. I don't have much to post, except contuining programs in Portugal and redeployment of armies and all that. I think this war's importance has suddenly shifted to Austria.]

Ecole Militaire, Paris

The new Minister of War called a conference to be held, and did so at the Ecole Militaire in full uniform. No one doubted what would follow, what the events in Iberia and elsewhere now demanded.

Le Duc de Broglie was not de Vergennes, he was a flamboyant soldier, a cavalier, not a diplomat. The King was of course far above really speaking himself, so the authority in each individual matter was usually delegated to the particular ministry.

“God defend St. Louis, and God defend Louis-Auguste his descendant.”

“Tonight, it is my vocation to announce His Majesty’s wish that the Kingdom of France is now in a state of war with Great Walmington. Additionally, the Kingdom of France declares war on the Australasian Republic for their participation in Anglo belligerence.”

“Neccessicarily, by the terms and conditions of the Holy League, Britain is now at war with France, Spain, Russia, and Depkazia.”

“Portugal is now being incorporated into the Kingdom of Spain, as is the liberated Gibraltaran Rock.”

“From this moment on, no ships will pass Gibraltar unless they fly a Holy League or Roycelandian pennant. If United Elias wishes to use the Straights, they may, but not to sell one iota of anything to the British or their allies that would aid in their war.”

“And I urgently appeal to the nations of West Africa, return to your mother countries, for the mothers need you now. If cannot reach us, do not worry, we will come to you, now.”

Enough said, then.

((OOC- Okay, we need to get some factoids out there:

there is one French fleet in the Channel Islands by Cherbourg, preventing any British landings on the Islands.

there is a French fleet now about to hit Cadiz and rendevous with Philip, sealing off Portugal once and for all. this is the main French fleet.

there is a third fleet active about Gibraltar and the west med.

there is a huge French army in Nigeria, preparing itself to cross some borders. they have light fleet and aerial support.

Now, Britain, I cant fight you if you don’t say where you are, same for you other guys. So, after my dec here following y’alls, shall we just do a post about current positions? Id say thatd concur with Portugals demise and the Rocks seizure. Ive seen mention of Britains fleet somewhere, but not directly.))

OOC: Mac, how/in what thread did the war's focus shift?!

Foreign Ministry, Raleigh, Australasia

The Deputy Foreign Minister, a minor functionary whose name is unknown to the Australasians as well as the French, issued this statement in response to that of de Broglie:

He who claims that Great Walmington and Australasia are the belligerents in this situation is mad. It was Philip VII who invaded Portugal and Gibraltar, it was Louis-Auguste who supported him. Great Walmington is defending itself, Australasia is coming to the aid of its mother country. That Great Walmington was uninterested in retreating from their own territory comes as a surprise to nobody, except perhaps Louis-Auguste's flunkies. Either Broglie is hopelessly misinformed or he is a fool.

35˚N, 19˚W, Atlantic Ocean

Vice Admiral Damascus glowered at the report informing him that the Island Fleet was stuck at the Suez Canal awaiting passage through the Elian controlled strait. The sun was setting, and the decks of the Collingwood were painted orange in its light. With the formal declaration of war, everyone aboard was a bit twitchy. While during peacetime the odd off duty sailor might be seen taking a stroll on the quarterdeck, today most of them were in the mess, talking in hushed tones and looking under-rested.

The fleet was sailing up and down the 19˚ longitudinal line, making no overtly hostile actions while remaining a visible presence only a few hundred miles off of the European coast. The distance could be covered in two days sailing, just over one if they pushed the engines. AS-12 fighters and AS-17 fighter/bombers flew constant CAP, while the carrier Stormhawk's formidable radar screened for incoming unknowns.

Carrier Quenfis, Red Sea

Were an Elian HAM radio operator be tuned to the official band of the Suez Canal Authority, he would hear a peculiar sounding man who drawled most of his vowels-- unusual for an Australasian admiral, since most sounded as though they were from upper class London-- and spoke with a distinct twang.

"This is Vice Admiral Peter Denning, Admiral Commanding of the Australasian Island Fleet and auxiliaries. We request the use of the Suez Canal for transit of these forces. We are calling upon the goodwill of the government of United Elias, and request that it extend the guarantee of passage made to Walmingtonian vessels to cover those of Australasia in this time of need.

Colonel Sarah White, Commander of the Air Group for the Quenfis, found herself without anything to do besides paperwork as the fleet sat idle in the middle of the Red Sea. Accordingly, she sat on one of the tiny observation galleries that projected from just underneath the flight deck of the carrier and chewed on the butt of her pen while she made out the patrol roster for the next week.

Really, it was something of a pointless excercise. Within the next few days she fully expected to be in combat with French Typhoons and Rafales, at which point the patrol roster would hardly matter. The Quenfis and the CV Catapult, one of the nearly outdated Longbow class, would be fielding full squadrons around the clock, rather than a wing pair each. At least it would make an opportunity to put the AS-12 through its paces in a real, weapons free environment. Fun.

((Edit: Here's the basic fleet stuff:

The Home Fleet is much diminished, all elective forces having been sent with the Island Fleet. It is currently docked at Darwin after a short venture out to sea during the Philippines crisis.

The Island Fleet is currently the largest of the three Great Fleets. Added to the normal 1 CVAN, 1 CV, 2 BB, 2 BC, 8 CE, 2 CG, 7 DDA, 3 DDG, 2 SSKN (attack subs) are 1 BB, 3 CE, 4 SSKN and 2 SSBN (ballistic missile subs). The Island Fleet is also accompanied by the 1st, 3rd and 5th Expeditionary Forces, which are small armies designed for rapid deployment and attack, with an eye towards Mech. Infantry and Armour/Armoured Cav. Appropriate Infantry and Artillery support is given. It's commander is a blowhard incompetent, but his second is a reliable veteran who will probably end up doing most of the commanding.

The Atlantic Fleet is, as I stated, around 35˚N 19˚W. It's composed of 1 BB, 2 BC, 1 CVAN, 6 CE, 3 CG, 7 DDA, 4 DDG, 5 KK (Hunter-Killer Corvette), 4 SSKN, 2 SSBN

EDIT 2: Forgot more.
Australasia maintains an Alert Squadron around Australia that patrols just south of Indonesian national waters, commanded by R. Adm. Alexander Alexander. His forces are subject to change according to world events but rarely amount to more than 1 CC (command cruiser) 1 CE, 2 DDA, 2 DDG, 5 KK and 1 SSKN. The fact that a full flag officer, rather than some senior captain, commands this group serves to highlight its importance as first (and currently one of two) lines of defense. A similar but smaller force (1 CE, 3 DDA, 4 KK) patrols the Plata area off of Brazil/Argentina.

Essentially, these are not big fleets. The ships and crews are high quality, but will eventually end up screwed by larger numbers of enemy forces. (Numbers of the smaller ships subject to change if it turns out that I massively under/overestimated how many ships I can field as a fairly affluent, increasingly militaristic >50 mil nation)))

OOC: There are a few Chinese ships heading off:

Three carrier fleets loitering somewhere near the Phillipines, heading east slowly.

Two carrier fleets making a dash for Panama canal, ETA a few days. (Mentioned in Phillipino Funkiness)

A single carrier fleet at home in Beijing

A large armada of ships heading east from Beijing

(OOC: It will presumably be a reference to Operation Barikada (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=485171), Gurg.
For what little it matters, Yugoslavia's navy, including diesel-electric submarines, light frigates, corvettes, and missile craft as its major elements, is in the Adriatic and the western Black Sea. It is prepared to sortie into the Strait of Otranto against any blockade attempts, but some escort elements have been observed heading through the Ionian Sea towards the Agean.)

OOC: Why aren't the Chinese responding on the negotiations thread?

OOC: Righty, on my way over.

Events had begun to calm down since the surrender, and the Azores refused to cede its sovereignty over to Spain. It would become another British territory unless the Spanish acted soon. However, movements by the Spanish navy would most likely be tracked, and with the Australian fleet emerging from the Red Sea Spain would need as much firepower as it could get to block those movements. In the end, the Azores would have to be let go and captured later. There was no way Spain could risk her fleet by sending it after some islands in the middle of the Atlantic which would most likely turn into a siege if Spain occupied them. Instead, Spain would focus on the defense of her newly aquired territories on the continent, and flex some diplomatic muscle and further fortifying its position. Of particular importance was the continued neutrality of Morocco, and Madrid would even try to prod it to fully occupy the Western Sahara. Of course, Madrid would back it up with money and armament exports, but the Progressive threat had to be destroyed. In any case, the Portuguese military had been completely disarmed for now, and the majority of the Portuguese navy was in Spanish hands.

With the fall of Portugal had come around 106 new M60 Patton tanks, which would inlude around fifty which would be take off the battlefield and rebuilt. These would be formed into a single new cavalry brigade, and they would be upgraded to better standards, including a new mid-velocity 120mm L/44. They would most likely be sold to Morocco at a later point, along with the other 300 Patton tanks in the Spanish army. These would all be replaced with the Leopard 2E, soon enough, and the Leopard 2A4s would have their gun stripped and replaced with the L/55. The 100 or so L/44s would be sold to Morocco and they would replace the 125mms on their T-72s with the L/44. Spain was mobilizing more and more men every day and she was requiring more and more armour to increase her ability to protect herself and deploy throughout Europe. The new calvary brigade [the 3rd] would be sent along with two newly mobilized infantry divisions to Italy, where they would be ready to deploy in Austria, or for a full scale invasion into Yugoslavia. Using the newly aquired status as a Holy League member Madrid had also purchased a full five hundred T-72Ms. They would arrive to Spain gunless and they would be installed with the 120mm L/55 of the Leopard, and the Korzina autoloading system would be slightly expanded to allow for the longer rounds.

Two hundred and fifty of these new tanks were expected to be serviced by the 1st Portuguese Tercio, a heavy armour division. The rest would be an all Spanish cavalry corps. This would effectively increase armour strength in Spain to around 1,500 tanks, and with the estimiated Leopard 2E production going non-stop it would quite easily be 2,000 tanks within the next month or two. By the end of the two months around 300 of these would be pouncing upon Yugoslavia, along with some fourty thousand conscript infantry. By then Spain would have to refocus efforts and greater training, as such a large ground army would put major strain on her coffers. Nevertheless, most generals were assured that victory was within their grasps. They saw this war as an opportunity to rebuild imperial Spain, and they would take it.

Along the French border supply trains were making constant runs southwards. They were carrying new Rafael and Rafael M fighters, as well as missiles and smart bombs. Ammunition was being supplied by the thousands, and boxes were marked from Italy, France and Russia. Not so much had flooded the Spanish military market since the Spanish Civil War, when one million brothers and fathers had died for communism or fascism. They were ready to do it again, but this time with a larger population and a Portuguese home army defending that area of the country. Of course, the Portuguese military would have to be indoctrinated, but that wouldn't be such a large problem. Spain was hailed not as a Spanish Empire, but as a European Empire. Madrid was attempting to harness European nationalism, not Spain's. In the end, the only way Spain would succeed is if it fought a war united with the rest of Europe. If the continent was allied then it was impenetrable. The English would not have their French ally, or their Russian ally, this time around - this time they were in league with Spain!

Eight corvettes had entered service with the Spanish Armada, most of them old, five frigates, five patrol boats, and a single elderly diesel submarine. This is what the Portuguese had to offer, and it would do well enough. Most of the ships were distributed among bays and inlets on the Portuguese coast, armed with anti-shipping missiles, ready to make suicidal runs against enemy fleets if they ever came. Portuguese shipyards were turned to begin Spanish warfleet production, although most of the important construction would be done in the Mediterranean. Portuguese shipyards would see to the ten Viana do Castelo class patrol boats originally planned by the Portuguese administration, as well as the two U209 submarines, and two Oliver Perry Hazard frigates. It would now also see the construction of more and more logistics ships, in preperation for the commissioning of an all new Spanish battlecruiser, and later a full on dreadnought. Spain was also contructing two new Aragón class Buque de Proyeción Estratégicas, as an interim solution before the Spanish 'super carrier' is released [three to four years].

In other words, the conquest of Portugal had given Spain a multitude of options, and had opened up even greater expansionary projects. The Spanish ground forces would soon be amongst the largest and best in Europe, and her navy would be, at best, up to par with Europe's within six to eight years. By that time the English would be defeated and Holy League supremacy over Europe assured. When that came it would be war abroad that Spain would have to worry about.

(OCC: As ECOWAS...)

West Africa

If the French invasion of Algeria had done anything, it terrified the nations of West Africa like they had never been terrified before. Faced with the very real prospect of being invaded themselves, the independent nations of West Africa, crippled by poverty, disease, and in some cases famine, were obliged early on to make the choice between resistance and submission, and even now there is hardly a consensus in ECOWAS as to what the organization should do. But perhaps contrary to French expectations, the majority opinion is not in favor of compliance with Versailles, but rather violent and united opposition to France's goals in the region. Encouraged by the new Pan-Africanism coming out of the UAR, ECOWAS hadn't exactly been twiddling its thumbs and hoping for the best since the invasions of Algeria and Nigeria. In addition to a veritable tidal wave of small arms, ECOWAS Defense Ministries had been ordering MANPADs and light AAA pieces by the hundreds, along with light artillery, tanks, and even some new fighter jets. While still far from perfect, and not particularly threatening, ECOMOG is now a more potent fighting force than it has ever been before, and is only improving in manpower and equipment numbers.

Mali/Niger

De Brogile's speech triggers a public outpouring of hatred for Mali's old master, and in Bamako effigies of Louis-Auguste and his ministers are burned in the streets. While Mali, and indeed ECOWAS as a whole, is ill-equipped to defend itself against determined French military action, what the West Africans lack in gear they more than make up for in spirit. It is, though, far from certain as to if spirit is enough to stop French and Spanish tanks and fighters. What is certain is that nobody in Mali, or at least nobody worth talking about, is going to come running back into French arms if they ever do cross the border. "Mother country? My mother country is Mali!" says one of Bamako's citizens to a news camera, a sentiment echoed my most of the demonstrators. They aren't about to let what happened to Algeria happen to West Africa, and will, or at least they say they will, defend their relatively young democracy with vigor and persistance.

President Amadou Toumani Toure is unexpectedly absent from the anti-League rallies, being thoroughly occupied with war planning. He never makes his scheduled appearance, the Minister of Finance delivering the speech instead, and spends the day with the Minister of Defense, discussing anti-invasion plans. Less than confident in the ability of the Army to block a quite likely French thrust from occupied Algeria, Bamako had reluctantly given the Tuareg nearly full autonomy in exchange for their service as border militiamen and guerillas. They certainly have a personal stake in the situation, with their fellows active in resistance to the occupation of Algeria, and the French are hardly likely to take a conciliatory line with the group responsible for so much unrest to the north.

The remainder of the long frontier is patrolled by troops on camel and horseback, as well as a few AML-90 squadrons. The Minister of Defense intends to hold the main body of Mali's conventional army some distance back from the border, to keep the French from encircling it right off the bat. Militia levies are also created out of the very large pool of turned-away army recruits, men the military can't afford to pay on a regular basis, and after being given some very basic training, such as how to load, aim, and fire the Ak-47, they are armed and sent on their way.

Shared status as the only ECOWAS countries bordering Algeria forces Mali and Niger to coordinate their national defense plans, although Mali is much more militarily able than famine-stricken Niger. While Mali can afford a handful of T-72s and L-39ZAs, Niger cannot, and Bamako feels obligated to help prop-up its eastern neighbor. As far as the border is concerned, Niger is actually better-off than Mali, the largely satisfied Tuareg covering the whole extent of Niger's frontier with Algeria, but even a small French thrust could probably scatter Niger's still-small army of 7,000 men and the much smaller Malian support contingent with relative ease.

For the time being, Malian forces in Niger concentrate on the delivery of emergency food supplies, since drought, not French invasion, continues to pose the greatest threat to Niger's populace.

Benin

Straddling the border with Nigeria, small Benin is hardly in an enviable position. Even with a Ghanaian infantry division and two Togolese regiments present to reinforce the bloated Benin Army, the nation's inconveniently long hostile border means that a French assault stands a fairly good chance of overrunning the country, if only by virtue of the fact that Benin's defenders will almost have to withdraw west for fear of being cut-off. Still, Benin is as resolute as Mali and Ghana when it comes to the national defense, with the vast majority unwilling to give-up Benin's infant democracy. Under the direction of Lusakan-trained Ghanaian officers, a Beninise militia had been pieced together, starting just after the announcement of the Russian takeover. Equipped, like most of West Africa, with the venerable Ak-47 or AKM, if the attack does come across the Nigerian border the militia will have the responsibility of tripping-up the French and their Russian allies as much as possible, through attacks on lines of supply and communication.

President Yayi Boni at least appears confident when he addresses the nation following de Brogile's speech, although he has a Falcon 900 ready to whisk him to Accra when things get hot. Like most ECOWAS leaders, he calls for preparedness and defiance, and the Beninese are largely ready to provide.

Cote D'Ivoire

With Liberia and Sierra Leone more or less solved, Cote D'Ivoire is the only place in West Africa where ECOMOG troops find themselves in regular combat. A peacekeeping force, led by Ghanaian general James Malinke and consisting of troops from Mali, Burkina, Guinea, and Ghana is charged with maintaining the fragile truce between Laurent Gbagbo's national government and the collection of rebel movements, and this has proven quite a bit harder than first imagined. Furthermore, Malinke has expressed serious doubts about Gbagbo's political reliability, and it is widely believed that either he or one of his army commanders will invite French forces into the country in order to quell the rebellion. Either that or one of the rebel commanders, and god knows there are a lot of them, will try to make arrangements with Versailles for political gains later on. Cote D'Ivoire, while it hosts the largest concentration of ECOMOG troops in West Africa and has a sizeable armed forces of its own, is also home to the least-unified populace and least-committed government. So, failing an offensive out of Nigeria or Algeria, ECOMOG commanders are more or less convinced that the invasion will come through Cote D'Ivoire.

General Malinke, suspicious of Gbagbo's motives as ever, has taken the liberty of redeploying the FACI's two MiG-23MLDs, two Strikemasters, and four or so flyable Su-25s to Accra, supposedly for maintainance.

A measure of Belgrade's disinterest in Switzerland's declaration of war and for the unexpectedly large Austrian mobilisation, Yugoslav observers and training officers in the United African Republic have received no orders to wrap-up their projects, and more diplomats and military liason officers have actually left the SFRY for ECOWAS nations, travelling via Libya, with which Yugoslavia has significant trade relations. Though they have absolutely no authority to be making assurances, the Yugoslavs do suggest that Tripoli might be a useful source of equipment if not actually any manpower aid: the Libyans are known to deliberately maintain far larger stockpiles than their slight populace could ever put to use, and to frequently make hand-outs of tanks, planes, and guns to authorities deemed politically useful to the Colonel.

Lav's interest in ECOWAS is encouraged by war and by his firm desire to keep as much as possible of former French Africa out of France's hands, out of fears for future trade with the ANP. The Yugoslav President expresses interest on behalf of his state in investment opportunities in the ECOWAS, believing that most of the world will refuse to touch the area if it looks like any investments will be made a total loss by HL invasion. The suggestion is that raw materials useful for war production in Yugoslavia might be exchanged for, well, help in developing extraction facilities and for some of the resulting product. Yugoslavia can, after all, provide weapons and equipment better than most of what ECOWAS has but cheaper and less complicated than most of what other potential suppliers offer.

Depending on for how long the Austrian war lasts and how soon Africa may be assaulted afresh, a large surplus of old-type Yugoslav arms may well become available, as most observers believe that Yugoslavia is currently producing rather more tanks, planes, and munitions than she needs to quash Austria's government.

(OOC: Hope that's not too far off track, I resisted rambling on about specific Yugoslav weapons, despite my strange fascination with them :) )

Yugoslav diplomats are recieved entheusiastically in Bamako, and the Lav's military advisors will find ready work across West Africa. Belgrade already has a good level of trust and respect amongst the ECOWAS nations due to its friendly relationship with the African National Pact, and with invasion on the horizon the need for military aid is a desperate one.

ECOMOG actually has a fairly large pool of trained and capable officers, trained by the Lusakans at one time or another, and the Ghanaian army in particular commands a reasonably good stockpile of equipment. Ex-Swiss Pz-61 tanks and ex-Swedish Ikv-91 tank destroyers have already found their way into ECOMOG hands, for instance, and negotiations with the UAR over the purchase of ex-Lusakan F-20Ls are well underway. But Libyan equipment would be most welcome...Libyan soldiers too, while they're at it, and although some ECOWAS countries continue to be skeptical and Mauritania still views the whole affair with contempt, most of West Africa could care less where support is coming from as long as it comes.

((hey friends...my best wishes you all are well.

Britain, man, I really need you to do that fleet post, OOC is fine, no need for type just local. John, you do know your isolated from the British by the French feet of war at Cadiz unless you choose the Northern route? I just got from your post you were heading bee line to fgiht me.

LRR, bless you. You get my medal of civic participation. Truly, I bet IRL youre a all around true blue type. As opposed to BG's suspect character ;).

Im a hypocrit, again, because Im too frazzled to post tonight. I understand theres an inasion of New Provence underway? Ill check it out ere bed.

Im so buys because I might be moving (thanks to the wife) from a university level teaching posistion to a secondary level administrative posistion. Financial motivations of course...its funny though,..could'nt y'all imagine my persona as principle...maybe a bust of Louis XIV? Te he, j/k, I acutally adore kids so I think im suited fine.

BG, you have detention, your assignment: read one chapter of Gibbon's Decline and Fall...if your good, and promise not to start revolts with the Marxists again, you can line up early to get your milk and a pudding.

Im actually kind of excited...its a job oppurtunity that I can feel I can really help people and make a difference with.

((Will Britain, Walmington, and Australasia pleae declare where your fleets are and their trajectory, you both already know spains and mine. No lats and longs either please, just ball park it. Im going to be posting later thi eve, after the wife and I do our thing. Ciao bella!))

i think the Aussie mentioned somewhere that he wouldn't be on this weekend..

Diu

Union Territories Shipyards, rarely idle in peacetime, has its hands more than full by the end of the first week after the declaration of war. The IN's newest warships, eight Type 42 destroyers and four Type 22 frigates, finish their refits ahead of schedule, and most sail to join the Home Fleet across the gulf in Daman.

With that out of the way, UTS starts on a further three Bihar-class SSKs, ordered by the MoD just several days earlier. The first, INS Ganganagar, will, with luck, be completed within the next three to four months, and will be the first submarine in the IN's inventory capable of launching ASMs while submerged. Another three hulls are also laid-down at Diu, these being the MoD's new Kaveri class LSLs, based on the Walmingtonian Round Table-class ships that figured so prominently during the Falklands War. The first of these fairly straightforward ships, the name-ship INS Kaveri, is scheduled to be completed within the next month and a half. Amphibious vessels are, after all, sorely needed by the IN, and will doubtless be vital when conducting operations against the League.

Daman

Across the Gulf of Khambhat from Diu's large shipyard, the IN's primary anchorage sees plenty of activity as well. Some 2,000 men of the 2nd Marine Regiment wait at Daman's barracks while a collection of civilian-registered merchant ships is gathered, in preparation for operations against Bassas da India, Reunion, and Austrian-occupied Mauritius. The carrier Ibrahim Haidari, along with the destroyers Zhob and Ahmadpur East and the frigates Srivardhan, Parbhani, and Amravati are assigned as escorts, and take-on provisions and ammunition in preparation for their first combat duties. It isn't deemed likely that the IN's battlegroup will have an opportunity to use its firepower, since the inclusion of the destroyers is probably overkill by itself, and the carrier-borne Sea Harriers will probably have any threats taken care of before the ships get anywhere near the French- and Austrian-occupied islands, but Mumbai reasons that they are better safe than sorry. The survey ship Paradip leaves Daman early, and makes for the Glorioso Islands with 40 marines. Grand Glorieuse's weather station isn't expected to pose that much of a problem, and the Paradip won't stick around for much longer than it takes to evacuate the weather station personnel and raise the Union tricolour.

IN corvettes, SSKs, and patrol ships step-up operations in the Indian Ocean, sometimes heading as far south as the tip of Madagascar, and look for French and Spanish submarines. Versailles' submarine fleet, which managed to sink five cargo ships in view of Mumbai itself not more than six months earlier, still worries Parliament, and the MoD is not about to let that kind of embarrassment happen again.

Southern Indian Ocean, 2,000km Southeast of Madagascar

The IN's antarctic research vessel, INS Vishakhapatnam, also finds itself with a military assignment in the wake of Parliament's declaration of war. Next to the tiny Kavaratti, the Vishakhapatnam is one of the least intimidating ships in Parliament's navy, lacking any fixed armament and crewed mostly by ecologists and other specialists. Quite a surprise it is when the ship recieves orders to seize, "by force if necessary," the Kerguelen Islands, a French possession not at all shy of the Antarctic Circle. As FN-MAG machine guns are brought up to the bridge and helipad, and SMLEs are issued to members of the crew, Vishakhapatnam's 126-strong complement hopes that the Kerguelen Islands' hudred or so inhabitants won't be bothered terribly by a change of flag.

Southern Atlantic Ocean, Some 740km East of Stanley

Diverted from its trip to Great Walmington after refueling in Zanzibar, INS Ambajogai makes its way towards the capital of the Falkland Islands at a stately 18 knots. It was decided against deploying the lone frigate to Great Walmington itself, since it would be more or less defenseless against the suspected swarm of French and Spanish submarines off the Iberian Peninsula, and now Ambajogai sails to reinforce the Walmingtonian garrison at the Falklands.

((The Atlantic Fleet is some 600 km east of the Azores. There's nothing out there but water. I'm not totally clear on what you mean by 'isolated from the Brithish Fleet at Cadiz'- do you mean that there is no British Fleet around, or do you mean that there IS one and your fleet is between the Atlantic Fleet and it?

If the former, I do know that. I'm working on getting some more people involved in the Iberian Peninsular invasion... but the Soviets won't play with the Roycelandians, et cetera.

If the latter, that's fine as well. If there is a British fleet present then it makes my job easier; the Island Fleet/Mediterranean fleet'll play Anvil to the Atlantic Fleet's Hammer. The British can be the sword in between that makes things awkward for you.))

((The British pulled back to Britain, which you have yet to reach…you now face a French fleet my friend.))

Paris

War raged, and the French people were united behind their sovereign.

United because, for the first time in centuries, Mother France mattered again in the eyes of the world: the ghosts of the World Wars had long since departed.

It would be a propos to begin with the new cinematic masterpiece sweeping France, required viewing so to speak, Our Glorious Sun King Louis-Auguste. Every subject was required to watch it one. The remarkable fact: almost 90% came back for a repeat showing. Not only a standard and superbly executed piece of propaganda that displayed the king as a shining knight holding the evils of the world at bay, while staying the hydra of progressivism still having time to nourish his beloved French children and their Algerian cousins too; it also had subliminal messages packed full into the movie. In essence, the War Ministry with the King’s tacit approval decided that it was time to galvanize France to battle as much as was possible, and if a little brainwashing helped, so much the better. Godfrey III was portrayed as ‘Chairman by the will of the mob’, a frightening progressive wolf in moles clothing in the very heart of Europe. Luckily, though, he was shown in another seen burning in hell with Marx, Mao, Hitler, Stalin, and Graeme Igo. Bright flashing colors and vivid music ramped up the audience. Australasians were shows to be dwarfish monsters, subservient to the Anglo-Bolshevik alliance. There was no world war, only a fight for survival against the gates of Hell, which French scientists believed to be located somewhere on the sub-continent, as the latest satellite and geological data proved. To be French was a gift from God, to serve the King God’s wish. This was all.

Other scenes showed the righteous kind Louis-Auguste, exorcising little girls of demons and delivering bread to starving mothers…calling their sons to follow him: as the formerly weak boy hears his call, they become handsome youths, and trot off under countless white banners bearing fleur-de-lys. One scene showed dancing factory workers join with visitors from the country departments, i.e. peasants; breaking out in joy as they reveled in their freedom from class consciousness as happy serfs and loyal subjects…with perfect choreography singing melodiously en Francais:

Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free,
Tis the gift to have come from where we ought to be,
And when we come around to the place just right,
Twill be the valley of love and light;

When, true, simplicity is gained,
To bend and to bow we shall not be ashamed,
To turn, and turn and turn our delight,
Until the turning, turning brings us round right.

And so the movie ended with booming applause; the song quickly spread throughout France, and became the new mantra of the masses. The crown and secret police of course heavily promoted this, as the old Shaker spiritual tune was designed to instill in the French populace a respect for both harmony and hierarchy.

It came to pass then that when His Most Christian Majesty and Serene Queen came to visit Paris that song greeted them, performed by dancing crowds in the streets.

The King held a Royal Mass at Notre Dame, opening the doors to the pressing crowds. The homily was on David, the King who with God’s help slew the beastly Goliath. After Mass the King and Queen went by carriage to Les Champs des Mars, where hundreds of thousands of French youth came toe enlist at the king’s call for ‘one million Sons of St. Louis.’

On a raised platform Louis-Auguste would distribute Rosaries and a small blessing to one-hundred thousand soldiers as they passed by. One lad was shaking with timidity being so close to the King. He fell and Louis-Auguste, in full regalia, reached down to raise the youth up, hugging him tightly and kissing each of his cheeks before moving him over to rejoin the column. The Queen pinned white ribbons on the shoulders chests for luck: this was the 2nd Corps of the War Ministry’s newly planned “Grande Armee.” Lads come of their own volition and the King’s request. How proud were those columns! The 1st Corps was up and running, having been formed of standing Gardes Francaises divisions. Like Spain, France was gearing up for a major effort. When the King and Queen were done, they attended the Opera, where Carmen was shown courtesy of Their Majesties. They retired to Versailles as dusk fell, and the Air Defense grid activated over Paris and the Royal residences, and to a small extent all over France.

Needless to say, dissent at this point was at a miniscule ebb. War had forced all France into line behind the Crown, at least while things went well, and anyone who stood out was quickly grabbed and locked in the Bastille. Indeed, le Marechaussee was very busy these days, having now unlimited powers the secret police found anyone who might even pose a minute threat to the regime and took them into the Bastille from all parts of France for questioning first, and if needed internment and ‘further questioning.’

Madrid, Spain

France’s Prime Minister le Comte de Maurepas himself flew in at news of Madrid’s stunning victory at The Rock and over Portugal.

He was quick to assure his likeminded Spanish colleague and his master that “Their Bourbon Majesties must be as gracious in victory as they are vigorous in the attack”…in other words, British survivors were to be given a posh trip back to Britain to alleviate guilt over the delightfully successful bombing raid and Portugal would not be brutalized in any way. In the Prime Ministers own words “…after all, these are decent Catholics we are dealing with here, not some Lavragerian troglodytes. Incorporate them with joy, as they themselves wish to be incorporated into His Catholic Majesty’s realm” and so and so forth.

Once Iberian unity was assured, the good Prime Minister also gained Philip VII’s assent to declare a ‘unity of purpose’ between France and Spain in their new mission to bring peace and harmony to West Africa.

Brest

In an effort to provide a naval screen against British incursions into Bay of Biscay the French Admiralty under pressure from the War Ministry activated the Fourth Fleet as well, putting two French fleets off the shore of the motherland, one in the Mediterranean, and one resting in Cadiz.

The Fourth Fleet would sail south, and remain in a supporting role to the Second Fleet which was currently defending the Channel Islands against British encroachment.

Cadiz

The much vaunted Royal Navy’s First Fleet had recuperated from its Pacific adventure, and having dislodged its troops in Africa was prepared to fight the British about Spain. But when the British pulled north after the Spanish moved into Portugal then The Admiralty had ideas.

With the Second and now Fourth Fleets guarding France, le Marechal de Gras du Mont, commander of the force ordered the First Fleet to weigh anchor from Cadiz…two Cherbourg class battleships, one Restoration class aircraft carrier and support light cruisers, frigates, corvettes and submarines out into the Atlantic. With weapons systems hot, they set themselves on a direct collision course with the Australasian Atlantic Fleet. Thus would France hopefully gain a naval victory, and while still keeping Godfrey occupied smash the pitiful attempt his allies sent as succor. It would also eliminate the possibility of Wellington interfering with the upcoming African operations. It would be good PR to boot.

Slowly they steamed out, then on open waters the turbines rang and fleur-de-lys snapped in the wind. Trumpets played as sailors drilled incessantly, while devout families at home prayed for their safety and for that of good King Louis-Auguste.

Parakou, Benin

While the French Kingdom’s Navy fought in the north and Spain retook her ancestral lands, the Royal Vanguard Legion, intended for use in Asia, was given the order to move in Africa. Le Duc de Normandie straddled a tank, ordered the trumpets to blow, and set off on his very own vainglorious Bourbon mission.

It should come as no surprise to ECOWAS that the French, and hopefully soon Spanish, would not bother to declare war. After all, in Louis-Auguste’s mind, West Africa was rightfully his possession. He was simply reclaiming it. With the current levels of militarization the Holy League was undertaking as well, this had become necessary. If France could get even some of West Africa back, that, along with Algeria, would still keep Versailles in gold.

The RVL was one-hundred thousand troops strong, hand picked and trained to fight in extreme conditions at Ft. Kourou in New Provence. They were a heavy attack force, and supported by two battalions of heavy tanks from the Order of the Golden Fleece soon hoped to achieve their Glorious Monarch’s commands. They were reinforced by two divisions of Gardes Francaises and Royal Algerian Infantry respectively, with a host of support personnel from the Royal Auxiliary. A squadron of Marseilles class cruisers and Brest class frigates stood in a support role off the coast, along with several landing ships, although they had moved closer to Cote d’Ivoire’s shoreline. One wing of ODSE Mirage-2000’s provided fighter support, along with Roycelandian built Zulu and Huey helicopters. There were even two squads of Lancaster-II strategic bombers, as well as support and transport craft. French Eastern High Command Was now French African High Command.

This would be the force Louis-Auguste would fight his land war in Africa with.

The first target would be Parakou, a vital city controlling the center of Benin.

As the Spanish stormed Portugal, at precisely the same hour in the dark of early morning, 24 Mirage-2000’s conducted a scatter bomb raid around the airfield of Parakou. Herecule X-95 scatter bombs, used so effectively against Lavragerian partisans, now instantly cleaned the valuable field of any resistance as well as valuable enemy craft.

Supported by a fighter umbrella should they need it, this was the glorious opening operation of the African Campaign after all, Broglie’s dream, two Regiments of the 3rd Royal Army Heavy Korean Infantry divisions were paradropped into Parakou, and soon and seized the airport, within the hour the crack troops had secured the cities center and key points.

As the parachutes floated down four divisions of the RVL swooped over the border into Benin, each supported by armored elements. The first proceeded to secure the link to Parakou and drive on into Togo and establish a foothold there. The second proceeded to Parakou, to reinforce the vital communications point. The third swept into North Benin in a brilliant flanking maneuver, while the fourth, supported by heavy artillery elements, made south for Porto Novo. The fourth division was again supported by the two Algerian divisions, and was personally commanded by the Duc de Normandie.

The Royal Navy offshore, in a brilliant repeat of the Lavragerian War, launched satellite guided cruise missiles into Proto Novo, taking out the power and communication facilities. The bombers were being held back in case of needed ground support. So as the troops parachuted and invaded the border in the wee hours of the morning Porto Novo would rock as Fury V warheads racked the capital, targeting vital facilities only, not needing to waste ammunition or cause civilian casualties at this point.

Thus France struck war in Africa, with a heavy blow, and all waited to see the Beninites reaction to such an encounter, but yet more…

San-Pedro, Cote d’Ivoire

Two French landing ships, a Brest class frigate and some corvettes hung off the coast of Cote d’Ivoire.

In a pincer movement, to coincide with the attack in Benin, the War Ministry this time with the King’s direct insistence launched landing operations in Cote-d’Ivoire, and by dawn 3,000 Royal Marines had secured a beach-head south of San Pedro.

RVL Infantry Regiments were expected to have landed by nightfall. Helicopters and a few jets from the landing ships provided aerial support.

Still, this was not as massive as invasion as it could have been. Before the attack even commenced, Laurent Gbagbo is called by le Duc de Broglie himself, man of the hour if there was one. He assured the Generalissimo, I mean president, that if he signed on the French boat he would profit immeasurably, while keeping Cote d’Ivoire under basically his autonomy and being the leading voice in the conglomerating French West Africa. The French really needed Gbagbo, and Gbagbo was a smart enough man to know that if someone refused of Louis-Auguste’s personal requests, especially in a time of war…

He learned no doubt of Benin by now, and could clearly see which way the French were coming.

Meanwhile, French Special Service teams, ODSL, are inserted into all West African countries, especially Niger and Mali.

In Cote d’Ivoire they promise to have a new government set up for Monsieur Laurent if he wants one. The ODSL really does, because they would rather install a puppet than assassinate a fool.

And so Africa was drawn into war too.

Spain had moved in the Iberian, Fleets were racing around, cannons bristling for a fight. Aidarov declared war on Austria, and the Houses of Bourbon unite to battle England. Now, France has unleashed the war in Africa as well.

Atlantic Fleet, CVAN Stormhawk

"34th is airbourne, control," Colonel David Amundsen said into his radio. "All present and accounted for." His squadron, the 34th, flew the AS-12 Cavalier. It was the newest Air Dominance Fighter built by Aeromarine; and a joy to fly. The Cavalier had only just been cleared for service in the Navy and Flying Corps, and it had yet to see combat.

That would change today. The pilots had been awoken two hours ago with an alarm and hot coffee, and ordered to escort a flight of AS-17s to the target. The briefing had been short and to the point; we have better aircraft than the French, and we're going to use them. The target was the French Carrier, but the intent was as much to cause damage to the air wing as it was to attack the fleet.

Amundsen looked at his radar board and noted that along with the 34th, the 13th and 103rd were flying escort, while the 76th and 107th flew the AS-17 Strike Fighters that would provide heavy ordinance for the mission.

"Acknowledged, 34th leader," Control replied crisply. "Good hunting." Amundsen hit his radio again, addressing the pilots in his wing.

"This is CAG Stormhawk to all fighters," he said. "Bear to target and accelerate to full. Engage drop tanks." Suiting action to words, he rolled the AS-12 to face towards the as-yet-unseen French fleet and flipped the switch to begin siphoning fuel out of his drop tanks. The computer beeped cheerfully to inform him that the secondary fuel lines were engaged, and Amundsen settled in to wait while the wing drew nearer to the target. And he got ready to fire the first Australasian shots of the third world war.

OOC: Is it reasonable to assume that my fleet has now arrived at Panama canal?

[OOC: Gurguvungunit, if you're 600km from the Azores you are still around 1,000kms away from Cadiz. I'm not sure that you're within range to strike the French fleet, much less their capital ships which are most likely behind a good number of escort ships. China, sure.]

Cadiz, España
The Spanish fleet faced a rather difficult decision. If they left Cadiz they risked battle with the English and Chinese, and although Spain was ready to engage them one at a time, especially with the French fleet behind them, they were far from ready to engage three powerful navies simultanuously, especially as Spain was looking for expanding her armada within the next two years. By destroying it in the Atlantic Spain did not come any closer to expanding it - however, some classified that as the golden fish syndrome. Regardless, ultimately it was decided to reinforce the French fleet - if French and Spanish satellites caught the Royal Navy sending a detachment to the Atlantic the two fleets could simply disengage and return to Cadiz. At this point France and Spain would keep the advantage of choosing the battlefield it fought on. The offensive war had turned into a defensive war, in Europe at least. And with Spanish aircraft operating off Italy and Spain any Australasian or English fleet coming from the eastern Mediterranean could be raided and hammered enough to persuade them that the route would be not be the smartest to undertake. In fact, Spain was ready to position new S-80 diesel submarines in the Bay of Taranto, prepared to cut off any fleet that even attempted to usurp Spanish hegemony of the Western Mediterranean.

The Spanish fleet left Cadiz only about half an hour after the French fleet, allowing time to clear the lanes, and then she steamed behind her ally in war, prepared to engage the Australasian fleet in the Atlantic Ocean. Both of the carrier's Harrier IIs had been replaced by Rafael Ms in an emergency transfer of aircraft from Perpignan to Cadiz, by train, and the Harrier IIs had been positioned in the Canary Islands to bolster aerial defenses there. At least, that was the justification. It seemed as if Morocco and Spain was planning something much more violent, but that would come for later. For now, the Spanish Armada was to set sail for her first major operation since 1588, ready to avenge the last six armadas that had been sunk by British and Dutch consurtiums of fleets. She didn't have any big guns like the French or her enemies had, but she had something which she would take advantage of fully - carriers. Keeping her distance she would make the option of escape possible for her, as much as possible. The Spanish fleets were not aiming for a descisive victory - she was looking to whittle away at her enemies, who she knew need their fleets more than Spain did.

Admiral Cervera rubbed his temples while he sat with the other ship's officers in the bowels of the Príncipe de Asturias. Looking at the grid map of the Atlantic he said, "We will wait for the Australians to strike at the French. When they do their air will be clean enough for us to make our attempt. If we sink this fleet the Holy League will give a message of power, and the war will turn further to our favour. We need a slight victory in the Atlantic, and we must turn every aspect of this war to our favour."

His executive officer nodded and Tejero continued, "Perhaps if we defeat this fleet we can even begin to think about taking the Azores, which will be a major blow to the British. It's a long shot, and perhaps a waste of manpower, but if we can persuade our enemies that they cannot seek victory in the Atlantic, perhaps they won't make an effort towards the Azores. Furthermore, maybe we can get the British to waste resources to take the islands, and simply occupy it with a multitude of static defenses, and little manpower."

Cervera arched an eyebrow, "That would certainly be something unique in warfare, but alas, we will suggest an attack towards the Azores after the battle. First, we must gain the victory."

OOC: It's at the edge of their combat range, assuming that the French fleet moves towards me while the fighters move towards it. Max. Combat range on the AS-17 is ~980 km.

IC:
34th Raiders, Raider 1

"Colonel Amundsen, this is control," The crisp voice sounded worried. "Incoming Spanish assets require your flight to abort mission. Further information when you land." Amundsen frowned.

"You heard the man," he snapped into the radio. "Return to Stormhawk."

Morrocan Camp, outside Bu Craa
A Buzzer sounded and the one occupant of the empty range sprang into action, drawing her Five seveN pistol in one smooth motion she raised it towards the target and fired off a quick barrage of gunfire, firing ten rounds in about twelve seconds, nine of which hit in the chest area of her target, all within four or five inches of the bulls eye. She lowered her weapon and hit the button on the side of the booth, starting the target moving towards her. She waited a few seconds, changed the target, as was standard procedure and left the range.
The sun was starting to set in the west and the massive collection of tents cast massive shadows across the ground, it looked like there was another complete camp superimposed on the one inwhich she walked, she was of mixed Spanish and Berber descent, with fairly dark skin and soft-looking brown hair and slightly below average height, an advantage in the cramped interior of a Soviet designed tank, however most of the men and women in the unit thought her to be quite cold hearted, which was just as well....

She reached her tent, pitched on the leeward side of the T-72 inwhich she was a commander, the tents of the other crew were pitched beside hers, three tents in a long line hiding in the shelter of the armoured beast that carried them to war, the other three T-72s of the platoon stood around them, with there own lines of tents sheltering behind them. Most of the crews were in the mess tonight, drinking to tommorows move into Western Sahara, but she didnt feel like drinking, she took off her outer jacket and put it on the peg inside her tent and picked up her P90 PDW, she put it down on the side skirt of the T-72, grabbed her cleaning kit and began to strip the weapon down.
She had cleaned it and was about half way through assembling it when someone wrapped his arms around her waste, she started to drop her hand to her sidearm but stopped when she realised who it was. Instead she turned around and put her arms around his neck,
He spoke to her in a soft voice "Hello Maria", she replied by pulling down his neck and kissing him hard, Maria began to ease them back into her tent, when they had gotten through the front she removed one her arms from his back long enough to pull the release cord, unrolling the fabric tent door and blocking them from view.....

((I think that’s fair China, but you must wait for Quint’s permission before you cross, and that will be some decision for him to make.))

The Atlantic, the 12th of June

Le Marechal de Gras du Mont was an old hat at naval warfare. His family had been fighting for France for as long as anybody could remember, under every government France had possessed. Some for the Bourbons, some for Charlemagne, some for Napoleon, some, yes, even for the Republic. He was one of the best, certainly. And he would fight as all France would fight. They would fight for their prince, of course, but they were really fighting to protect France, of which Louis-Auguste was only the king.

As he starred out the bridge of his command ship the Charles X he considered his mission, and in his mind heard a Mozart violin concerto. It remained humming in his mind as an announcement came through. His Most Christian Majesty would personally address the fleet before combat commenced.

He commanded the First Fleet, France’s premier naval force, staffed with the brightest, ambitious and most loyal Frenchmen. Two Cherbourg class Battleships, one Restoration class aircraft carrier, seven Marseilles class cruisers and eleven Brest class frigates composed the fleet. Dozens of corvettes and support ships support the fleet and it steamed its way along.

His speech would be piped throughout the whole fleet. His voice was rich and elegant, not harsh and grating, but speaking as a bourgeois father would to his flock of children:

“My dearest sons, I have just learned that soon you will be entering combat. Some of you may not return from this mission, this vital mission, to protect French sovereignty and secure our precious lines of communication. Know that in fulfilling this mission, to secure of Spanish brethren’s coast, indeed our own, by destroying the incoming fleet of invasion you will take your place in history.”

“More than that, you will have fulfilled your obligations to our great people’s love. Yes, love, that is what you will fight for on those seas for today. Love of family, state, and our Holy Catholic faith. In your victory, you assure a mighty blow for France and the Holy League and her allies. My sons, how proud I am to have raised such courageous boys! France was once mocked, but you today stand up for her! Stand now and fight for your sisters and mothers back home, and for the cross they venerate in righteous admiration! God be with you, lads, and may God forever defend the right!”

The Kings voice got shaky here, and it was audible that he was getting choked up.

“And may God preserve you all, my fighting sons, my pride and joy.”

Cheers rang out on the decks, just as the King’s voice was replaced by a deafening alarm and flashing lights.

“Now hear this, now hear this. All hands at battle-stations!”

The trumpet call signaling the same sounded.

Sailors ran frantically up and down stairs by the flashing lights and alarms. On the bridge of the Charles X du Mont studied the updated satellite readout, the reason for his order. He immediately set up communications via coded satellite with the Spanish Admiral and his armada, apprising them of his situation.

A flight of incoming hostile craft, the Australasian fleet was striking the first blow. Du Mont puffed, he really hadn’t expected that. The fleets fighter umbrella was a constantly rotated flight of eleven modified Dassault Rafales, and so they were scrambled to intercept immediately, with orders to concentrate fight on the enemy bombing craft.

On the bridge of the Charles de Gaulle Captain le Vicomte de Reauchamford ordered all remaining craft to be brought on deck and scrambled immediately. Orders from the Charles X stated the Marechal wanted all craft to be launched at once, armed to fight incoming aircraft.

Slowly but surely the Charles de Gaulle turned into the wind, and the additional Rafales were brought on deck. Pilots were scrambled, and the decks were abuzz with activity. Everything had to be done perfectly, more than perfectly, to get all the craft off deck and in fighting mode before the enemy could launch their attack.

Le Marechal starred out into the sea, trying to fathom the enemies strategy. His presence was calm and collected, he still listened to the Mozart in his mind. He turned to his aide-de-camp.

“All vessels increase to flank speed, adjust course for immediate interception with enemy fleet.” The orders were swiftly carried out, and the fleet soon groaned as the engines revved up. “And I want firing solutions for our Exocet’s now, I want a general solution with emphasis plotted on their damned carrier. Secondary I want their battleships hit. Move!”

The bridge hummed like the aircraft carriers deck, when all of a sudden du Mont scowled and the staff was stunned. The Australasian’s were turning back. Why? Was it the Spanish presence? Le Marechal thought intently for a few moments, seeming to hold at bay the chaos threatening the air about him.

“Belay Reauchamford’s order to arm the fighters being brought up for complete air assault. Arm half quickly with anti-ship weaponry: but still the order stands for their immediate departure. Do it now!”

Alarms and trumpets rang, radios blared in hectic French.

De Gras du Mont had committed. The enemy had perhaps made a fatal error, turning back to fight or guard against the Spanish? Still the error had been made, and Le Marechal rushed to exploit it. He called for the satellite radio man.

“Communiqué to Admiral Cervera: Senor, the Australasian’s have recalled what we deduce to be a full attack launch. This leaves their air cover vulnerable due to refueling, if it as we believe was a full attack. If you wish to engage, the time is now, I am moving to attack with all my strength in moments. God Defend the Right, and God save our Kings!”

The radio message was dispatched without delay.

The fighter umbrella was recalled from pursuit, the enemy had played their fuel and gambled with it, and resumed its protective radius on the fleet. On the Charles de Gaulle Rafales were getting airborne, within the quarter hour the French will have launch twenty-five craft of their own, on last minute orders several were held back and prepped for stand by.

In about ten minutes the firing solutions were handed to du Mont, who found them and the data sound. The French fleet was aimed like a dagger at the Australians now, though still hundreds of miles away, cruising in the wake of their fighters withdrawal.

He gave his aide-de-camp the launch codes for the missiles.

“All craft process solutions and stand by for orders…”

Sounded all the loudspeakers on the ship. They continued several minutes later:

“We have a go, repeat, all ships commence.”

The French fleet was truly beautifully. It was a clear day on the Atlantic, and the water sparkled, making everything look pristine and fresh. Their wakes were frothy from their speed, and reflected the crispness of the waxing morning air.

All this was poignantly observant to the Rafale squadron now getting airborne. From their height, as they turned into attack position, the saw the French First fleet commence its first Exocet attack. It was beautiful oddly enough when in range now, the anti-ship missiles roared out of their launchers, dozens sprouting from the Cherbourg battleships alone, and alongside firing frigates and cruisers. The missiles roared through the air leaving white plumes of smoke in their own wakes, despoiling the fresh morning air with their quantity.

The Australasians, those mindless lackeys of Godfrey, thought they would start the opening rounds. Indeed the attack had begun, but it was the Sons of St. Louis that launched it, and gave two attacks back for the aborted one they received. The Royal Navy was after all the premier branch of the French armed forces. The First Fleet had committed itself, and now pursued to action and bloody war.

Parakou, Benin

The French air raid, while devastating, is not unopposed. ECOMOG had, after all, expected a French invasion to come at any time for the past several years, and strategically-located Parakou, its small airfield especially, is defended by a fair few AAA pieces. To the great dissatisfaction of the Lusakan-trained Beninese major in charge of the town's protection, the gun crews throw-off their heavy camoflauge and open-up on the approaching fighters. The guns put up a determined resistance before they are wiped-out by cluster bombs, Beninese gunners still blasting away at the Mirages as bomblets explode all around and as they themselves start to go down.

French Parachutists have a much easier time, with the AAA guns silenced, although they are still met by a battalion of Beninese regulars. Descending paras are subjected to relatively light, but surprisingly accurate, fire from PKM machine guns, and as they get closer to the ground, AKMs. These few hundred Beninese regulars are overrun fairly quickly, being vastly outnumbered and under-armed, but make the French fight for the town and inflict at least a few casualties on the invaders before either being captured or forced to flee west at all possible speed.

Elements of the Vanguard Legion advancing from the Nigerian border are also faced with a determined, if largely ineffectual, resistance. The Borgou Provincial Militia had, in the months and weeks leading up to the invasion, covered the few good roads heading west from the border with land mines and booby traps, and ambush parties wait to hit French APCs and light vehicles with RPG-7s and SPG-9 recoilless rifles as they navigate down those very same roads.

All across Borgou, conscripts and militia levvies rally at village centers and post offices. AKM clips are distributed amongst the nearly ten thousand men-at-arms, along with the occasional PG-7 grenade or PG-9VS rocket. While not a credible conventional force, the Borgou Militia Levy has managed to arm several thousand men with assault rifles and anti-tank weaponry, and is prepared to make life very difficult for the French in what looks set to become occupied Benin.

The Togolese Air Force's five Alpha Jets, armed to the teeth with FFARs, cannon pods, and cluster bombs of their own, make their appearance near Parakou. Flying at extreme low level, in order to avoid prowling Mirages and AWACS aircraft, the Alpha Jets head in to strafe and bomb French columns, some of them hopefully held-up by booby traps and ambushes.

Porto-Novo, Benin

Yayi Boni, as soon as telephones begin to ring at Government House, is shoved into a somewhat unassuming Toyota Cressida and driven at great speed to Accra, where he will join John Kufuor of Ghana in what is easily the most prepared city in West Africa. The sedan is well on its way to Togo by the time the first cruise missiles hit the capital, and these cause a fair bit of damage. Using heavy cruise missiles in an urban setting is always a tricky proposition, as the French surely know, and the strikes, in addition to obliterating Porto-Novo's electrical infrastructure, kill close to a hundred Beninese citizens.

Even without the president, the Oueme Militia Levy, responsible for the capital and the largest of all the Beninese militia levvies, organizes itself and sends ambush parties out into the countryside. The few Beninese battalions protecting Oueme province opt to stand their ground, rather than withdraw into Togo like the rest of ECOMOG's ground forces. While they number no more than two thousand troops, they dig-in east and west of Cotonou, Lake Nokoue protecting the northern face of the city, and await the inevitable French assault. The Beninese battalions around Cotonou are actually fairly well-equipped, with a few Milan posts, Javelin SAMs, and MT-12 antitank guns. Victory is, of course, not very likely, but Cotonou's defenders intend to take as many French troops down with them as possible.

San-Pedro, Cote D'Ivoire

The French Marines face relatively little opposition in their landing, although nearby a Ghanaian infantry battalion, the same one which had sighted the enemy ships earlier in the day, prepares for action. Again, a more numerous and better-armed French force is faced with the prospect of fighting a small contingent of ECOMOG ground forces, but unlike the Beninese, these troops sport enough Milans and Javelins to make a major fuss. Traveling light, and taking special precautions to reduce the likelihood of it being spotted, the battalion marches into position several kilometers east of the town. Troops dig in under heavy camoflauge and the Ghanaians prepare to ambush whoever comes their way.

Abidjan, Cote D'Ivoire

Unfortunately for the French, Laurent Gbagbo never shows up for his appointment on their ships. He is met instead by a company of SKS-toting infantrymen from Guinea, commanded by a Ghanaian lieutenant, himself bearing a CZ-75, who break down the door to his office and rough-up his bodyguards. Gbagbo himself is hauled off to a waiting Shortland Armored Patrol Car, and driven towards General James Malinke's headquarters in Dimbokro, southeast of the capital. With invasion no longer a threat but rather a reality, Malinke isn't going to take chances, and will soon have the unreliable Gbagbo thrown in a Malian jail.

The ECOMOG regiment in Abidjan, mostly composed of Guineans and counting some 5,000 men in its ranks, also prepares for battle, and AAA guns are deployed across the city and the surrounding countryside while well-camoflauged, radar-directed Oerlikon 35mm antiaircraft guns are set-up at Abidjan's airport. Guineans in Abidjan can call on ten T-55s for fire support, as well as a pair of BM-21s, six Ghanaian 105mm guns, a Burkinan armored car squadron, and four armed MB.339 attack-trainers based not at all far away. Most troops are deployed facing west, towards the French landings at San-Pedro, or along the coastline.

Bimbokro

James Malinke, the Lusakan-trained general from the Ghanaian Army in charge of ECOMOG operations in Cote D'Ivoire, quickly commits his forces to operations against the French landings. Peacekeeping contingents throughout the country are stripped bare as Mi-8s and a host of other transport helicopters and airplanes fly reinforcements to the ECOMOG headquarters. With over 12,000 troops available from four nations available, Malinke has every intention of driving the French marines back into the sea. And he has, in large part, the means to do this as well. The first units to start southwest are the Ghanaian tank and armored infantry battalions, the former decked-out with ex-Swiss Pz68 MBTs and the latter riding in a collection of APCs ranging from commandeered Ivoirian Panhard M3s to Guinean BTR-152s to Ghana's own 6x6 Pirahnas.

Malinke's forces are also protected by a surprisingly modern air defense net as well, consisting primarily of MANPADs such as the Javelin, SA-14, and Mistral, but also of Guinean SA-9s and one of Ghana's five Gepards.

***********

Across the world, from New Lusaka City to Belgrade to Washington, D.C., West African diplomats make desperate appeals for aid. ECOMOG will not be able to hold-off the technologically superior, and in local terms numerically superior, French forces for at all long, and the nations of West Africa will take any help they can get.

((OOC: Sorry for the delay!))

London hardly had dispatched, through grit teeth, approval for the return of prisoners from Gibraltar -saying that any Franco-Hispanic hospital ship carrying the many wounded would be allowed to enter and leave British waters unimpeeded so long as she came without armed escort visible or hidden- when reports of new atrocity hit the headlines.

The French assault on Africa and the sailing of Franco-Spanish fleets made it all but impossible to put-off a show-down in the North Atlantic. If the continentals were coming out, they could not be allowed to stay out: African liberty, hardly having taken its first shaky steps, would be crippled if France and Spain were allowed the mastry of the sealanes. Australiasian enthusiasm for battle in the theatre, far outstripping Walmingtonian, swayed any doubters. If a fight was going to happen, the Royal Navy must take part or her ally would suffer.

Ships put out from the Azores, and vessels moving towards Britain were brought about ((by the HL's timeline re. simultaneous invasions, it doesn't look as if we've had time to go more than a few nautical miles anyway, I think)).

As his ships drew gradually together in an arch from west to north, Admiral Longworth was commander of a force not yet joined, but one that flew the flag for the second largest and the most modern carrier fleet in the world. Destroyers and frigates from the Azores came with the carrier Queen Elizabeth III, while a couple of hundred kilometres north his flagship, the carrier Godfrey Grâce à Dieu was joined by a third, Alfred the Great, and the battleship Glorious.

The last time that RN aircraft carriers had gone into action they were fighting a nation that no longer existed in the same form, and they did it with Sea Harriers and Sidewinders and flew from anti-submarine patrol carriers, though the enemy then as now were of the Mirage family and toting Exocets. This time, Longworth had fleet carriers, too young for a beard of barnacles and fitted with side armour and Anglo-Dutch close-in weapons systems, and carrying large wings of long-range low-signature fighters.

The Sea Harrier 4 was well worth the wait. A decade and a half in serious development, bigger than the original Harrier and quite differently configured, but still distinctive in silhouette. So expensive that the Tory government between the administrations of Mainwaring and Bull shelved the project, only for private industry to keep it ticking over until the Whig victory put it back into production. A larger aircraft, apart from being supersonic, stealthy, and capable of beyond-visial-range and look-down-shoot-down engagement, the so-called Super Harrier had a massive range in air-to-air configuration, dispensing with drag-heavy external stores and reducing its already low radar cross section in the process.

132 Sea Harrier 4 were available to Longworth's command, along with dozens of Merlin helicopters even now flying anti-submarine patrols. Oh, the windy French claimed to be putting their all into naval affairs, but while they tried to train and deploy hundreds of thousands of regular soldiers and sustain scores of heavy bombers, the British were building ships and navalised warplanes in stead. There had been hopes for the enemy staying in port until the RN was really up to strength in coming months, where after it would be impossible for the enemy to leave port and his supply lines would be cut, but if the fight must come now, the grandest naval tradition in history would not allow enemy propaganda to dampen its fury.

Shipboard Sampson radar and Merlin MASC looked on as Longworth's assets steamed towards the offing conflict, sending to Damascus to expect their arrival from north and west, unconcerned about scaring away the enemy, since bottling them up was considered almost as good as sinking them- it worked all right after Jutland and Taranto, so reasoned an aged Admiralty. French planes committed in the air, the Spanish... still Spanish, Longworth began to ready his fighters for air superiority missions. Glorious uncovered her 16" guns, the biggest in Europe packing more punch than anything continental, Darings prepared SAMs and Harpoons, and Dukes made use of their new bow and towed active and passive sonar fits to protect against a submarine threat that the Admiralty feared more than inferior continental naval aviation.

The British, though, were still tens of knots further out than the Aussies, and speeds were regulated to co-ordinate arrival of northern and western elements and make life easier for CAPs and ASuW patrols.

For now, Longworth is advancing cautiously, concerned with not being jumped by submarines or such surprises, leaving much up to other factions. The continentals can engage his Australasian allies and be caught in battle between they and his fleet inclusive of the three most advanced aircraft carriers afloat, or retreat while they have the briefest of chances to cower in port and be mocked while their African operation starves.

Until interrupted by any change in orders, ships speakers played on.

...Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame,
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
-Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves...

The invasions of Benin and the Ivory Coast were met with horror in the United African Republics.

Papa Africa, Derek Igomo, hurled a long string of verbal abuse at the French monarch, swearing that even if the crowned frog lived to be a hundred he would die as Leopold II, with sick terror in his eyes as hell opened up before him, and whispering of the horror, the horror! at being forced by God to recall the suffering of every man, woman, and child tormented for the support of his frail ego.

The Presidents of Tanzania, Zambia, and Zimbabwe, through a congress of the Social Progress Party, issued a joint declaration of war upon the Kingdom of France.

All of a sudden, the United African Republic were de facto allies of the Strathdonians, and Europe's cowardly shadow had obscured the cracks running along borders, races, and religions on this abused and confused African continent.

High level diplomats, including, "war veterans" (those who had fought in the bush against Roycelandia and Rhodesia) were sent to Lilongwe to re-establish formal and friendly relations, re-initiate trade, and enable the continued withdrawal of military forces from shared borders. All of Lusaka's FROGs (though it was not practical to do the same with the longer-range Hwasong-6 missiles) were to be pulled back out of range of Lilongwe, perhaps even the Strathdonian border, and the rate of redisposition of mechanised forces away from the frontier was to increase.

Massive forces moved north to the Roycelandian border. It was not a quick process, but trains and feet bore forces gradually in that direction. The Navy awakened, almost totally inactive in times of peace, and drills began for inexperienced crews aboard Soviet corvettes and submarines and the INU-built monitor Zanzibar. The UAR was, if nothing else, proud to have bigger guns than anyone in the Holy League (though not quite Roycelandia).

Quickly, the Republics opened their territory and air space to the INU, ECOWAS (though that hardly seemed to matter), and the Yugoslavs, Soviets, and Strainists. Diplomats even seemed to hint at the possibility of relations with China, though it was a little too soon after the Zimbabwe crisis to accommodate the British and their offspring.

The UARs now had almost no free forces. A couple of thousand in former Al Khals against the Islamists, a few thousand in Zimbabwe against the nationalists, many thousand in eastern Zimbabwe opposite the Free State, a token few in West Zambia against corruption and crime, and almost every single remaining military man heading for the Roycelandian border, where went 90% of the Union's mechanised, missile, and aerial muscle.

Alas, there was little that the UARs could do to help ECOWAS in the short term. Long-standing military advice and training was worth something, but the party hesitated to send two or three plane loads of light infantry, since they would not turn the tide, and was unable to do more than that. Certainly the nation could defend itself, but is force projection capacity made the Hindustanis look like rampaging inter-stellar empire builders.

Across the UARs and in foreign streets, Zambian, Tanzanian, and Zimbabwean vendors handed-out old propaganda posters (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Chivtv/NS1/communist_party_poster.jpg) lifted from the Soviets when they had attempted to help the Lusakans themselves, appealing for donations to enable ECOWAS nations to buy arms, and in ECOWAS nations, UARs nationals posted banners depicting a pre-stroke Igomo (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Chivtv/NS1/igomo.jpg) and tried to remind people, politicians, and officers that defeat in conventional fighting with the Europeans was to be expected, and was not a cause for loss of heart.

One woman from the Tanzania-Zambia border spoke -shouted- in Abomey, Benin:
"The French expect to crush West Africa's militaries and then to rule. Do not think like a European! Think like an African!
Once your soldiers have lost, killing many French along the road, you must take to the bush and take to the streets! Pick-up old rifles, spears, bows, slings, petrol bombs, grenades, anything you can find, and remind the French what it felt like to be driven from Algeria, let them know how Jack Sword felt as he ran crying from Old Lusaka with the impi on his heels! Form suicide squads of willing members of the doomed [those dying from The Virus], defend God, defend Allah, defend Mother Africa, defend Papa Africa! *We* started with nothing, which is what you will have after your soldiers are beaten, and we crushed the Roycelandian Empire! Crush France! Resist! Be aware that this fight may last for months or years, and be prepared!"

OOC: I'm not sure to what degree the AS-12/17 is detectable at long range. They're 'stealth' fighters, built like the F-22 to be minimally detectable on RADAR. At any rate, you won't be getting too many confirmed locks at BVR. And a nitpick; it's Australasians, rather than Australians.

Also, I'm going to need exact numbers on the fleets sent out by both Spain and France. NG, you mentioned submarines in your first post and didn't in the second. Do you have them?

Atlantic Fleet, Battleship Collingwood

Admiral Damascus drummed his hands on the railing of the bridge, hoping that his gambit had worked. The three squadrons had just landed, their fuel tanks were being switched on the carrier's deck. Beside them the rest of the fleet's air wing was launching, another two squadrons of AS-12s. As the last of those cleared the deck, the 34th fell into line on the carrier's deck, followed by the other two fighter squadrons, and then the strike fighters. From a distance it would now appear as though the fleet had thrown up a small protective screen, while the other fighters were desperately being made ready. The hope was that the French would prepare for a weak fighter defense and arm primarily for anti-ship warfare.

"Missile launches!" That was the RADAR operator. "Exocets inbound; counting twenty or thirty." Damascus nodded. Everything was going as expected.

"Sound General Quarters throughout the fleet, prepare anti-missile batteries. Order all ships to commence fire. Concentrate the attack on the French battleships and carrier. Send a message to Raleigh, 'we have engaged the enemy'." He paused for a moment, staring meditatively out the window. "And then send this message to the entire fleet." Damascus pulled out a pad of paper and wrote: 'Australasia expects every man to do his duty.' The radioman looked at it for a moment before turning to his board and typing it out.

Onboard every Australasian ship equipped with missiles, from the Battleship Collingwood itself to the smallest DDGs, fire spouted from their launchers. Scores of anti-ship missiles, Outback Vs, were now streaming towards the French adversaries. Mixed in among them were twelve Aborigine cruise missiles, four each for the two battleships and the carrier. They launched as a cloud and flew at roughly the same speed; ensuring that the French CIWS would have a tough time getting all the missiles. Further, the much larger cruise missiles would blend in with the rest on RADAR screens, and the gunners would only have a few seconds to differentiate cruise missiles from Outback Vs as they closed with the target.

The Exocets rocketed towards the Atlantic Fleet, provoking a storm of RAM fire against the incoming wave of missiles. As missile hit missile, there was a brief lightshow; as though the nearby sky was targetted by WWII era flak guns. In that brief instant, nearly a score of Exocets vanished in a ball of flame. The Destroyer screen's CIWS systems came online next, as the surviving missiles closed with the Australasian fleet. Gunfire could be heard, the constant chatter of the Testudo CIWS. Another dozen missiles flared out, but four survived the firestorm.

As proved by recent history, including the Falklands war, the Exocet missile does not frequenty detonate on target. One missile grazed the Battlecruiser Tonnant, but failed to explode. Its path scarred A turret and made a right mess of the ship's paint scheme, but nothing else. It hit the water on the far side of the ship and sank. The second hit the Attack Destroyer Posey, and blew a decent sized hole in the RADAR equipment that made up most of the ship's superstructure. The third struck the Stormhawk, and also failed to explode. It severely dented the hull, but the armour deflected the explosion upwards and out, twisting a piece of the starboard flight deck but achieving little in overall damage. The last hit the AEGIS Cruiser Marlborough and removed much of its AEGIS capability, but otherwise did little to the ship's structure.

The attack submarine contingent of the fleet, as per prestated orders, was alreadydeployed nearer to the enemy fleet. They were rigged for silent running, and each of their commanders had his own orders. They were to maintain absolute radio silence, move as quietly as possible and achieve firing solutions on the battleships and carrier from extreme range. They were underway now; and should be arriving on target within minutes.

SSKN Flamberge

The room was oppressively hot and silent. Commander Victoria MacDonald stood in shirtsleeves, her feet clad in socks rather than shoes. The sonar operator was pressing his ears to the headphones, listening.

"I've got what sounds like the carrier, Cap'n," he whispered. "We're still outside the destroyer screen, too far for torpedoes." MacDonald nodded and sweated silently, stil waiting. The Tac officer raised his hand to indicate that he had a solution, and MacDonald nodded. She took a deep breath.

"Designate carrier Alpha One, make for target." Her voice was a whisper as well, but it carried in the silence. She'd rolled the dice; it remained to be seen as to whether or not the French would detect them.

She had supreme confidence in the Flamberge and her crew. They were the best of the Submarine Service, and the boat was one of the quietest in the world. It was small as submarines went, only three quarters the size of the Quinntonian Los Angeles class. Its engines were masked and muffled as best as Australasia's famed ship designers were able.

They were about to run a destroyer screen, one of the most terrifying things that a submarine commander can do. Destroyers were designed to detect just such an eventuality; but the defense always lagged just a bit behind the offense in war, and the Rapier class SSKN was cutting edge. MacDonald hoped that the people at Westinghouse had done their homework; because she was about to put their work to the test.

((Wow, what a night. I’m winded out till the morrow. I think this is going ok though, no one seems to be moving too fast, were all on the same page. And lets not rush these battles either please, I think to be done properly they should take weeks, hopefully spice up our summers, the Lavragerian war took four months. We’ve had a running start, but now comes the juicy details...remember we are working in multiple theatres, at least some of us. And don’t apologize for the delay Walmington (are you Dra-pol? please do tell) we started things a bit fast and I apologize. Well done on everybody’s part! I hope everyone is enjoying this, after all this is the culmination, or the beginning of such, of many fine years of RP. Im not saying NS will be over after we all do our things, but it will be a new age for it. Maybe after weve blown each other to bits the Progs really will rule the world, thats why BG is being so hush hush no doubt. I just wish Quint/Tsar was around.

Lets all do a count actually, Ill start:

4 French Fleets active:
First in Atlantic, Second and Fourth in Bay of Biscay, Third in Med

Now, lets do the details here for our forces involved in the Atlantic:

French First Fleet

2 Cherbourg Class Battleships
1 Restoration Class Aircraft Carrier
7 Marseilles Class Light Cruiser's
11 Brest Class Frigates
4 Nantes Class Submarines
21 Defender Class Corvettes

For the record, just while Im on, Roycelandia has a contract supplying the West African operation with material, and they also have excellent fuel and resources coming from Nigeria as well.))

In the North Atlantic, Walmington has:

1 Courageous Class battleship
4 Queen Elizabeth Class fleet carriers
1 Ocean Class assault carrier
30 Type 45 D Class destroyers
35 Type 23 Duke Class frigates
5 Astute Class fleet submarines
4 Bay Class large amphibious landing ships

Plus ballistic missile submarines (could be anywhere in the world), armed patrol boats, mine countermeasures vessels, auxiliary vessles, reseve diesel-electric submarines, reserve nuclear fleet submarines, battleships and carriers under construction, and so on.

Noting that the Queen Elizabeth Class carriers, the D Class destroyers, and the Astute Class fleet submarines are each the best of their type in the world is also perhaps significant when assessing the RN's strength.

Also 1 Courageous Class battleship and several frigates, destroyers, patrol boats, and auxiliaries are in the eastern Mediterranean, and most of the remainder are at the Falklands. A handful of frigates, destroyers, and auxiliaries are in the South Pacific.

The RN can have 4 fleet carriers, 2 battleships, 5 LPDs, 3 SSBN, 16 SSGN, 4 SSK, 32 destroyers, 42 frigates, and countless minor/support vessels on hand within days if needs be. War has ruined our decomission cycle.

((Damned computer, its acting up on me, will post later today for all fronts I promised. Now, Walmington, is the North Atlantic your battlefleet were up against, or is that just a part of it. This OOCly speaking, as sat data IC would have given all of us the info. Not critical to my next post, just wanted to know.))

[OOC: Gah, I need to respond as well. Maybe tomorrow.]

OOC: My word I was drunk, yesterday! I was terrified that I'd have done something really, really stupid in AMW. Damage doesn't seem too bad. However, I must apologise and note that just a couple of those listed destroyers and frigates remain yet unready for action.

Moving into action in the Atlantic we have two forces coming together just north of the Franco-Spanish fleets.
From the Azores 1 carrier, 4 frigates, 3 destroyers
From the north 2 carriers, 1 battleship, 16 frigates, 12 destroyers
5 Astute Class SSGN are in the region.

Also RAF Typhoons have been placed in the Azores and HMS Ocean is there depositing Harrier IV strike fighters.

It should probably be noted that, since Britons are -all things considered- a reasonable people, profuse apologies, compensation, and a few reasonably high-level fall-guys regarding Gibraltar, and its return to British control, could yet avert some part of the coming disaster, though there's probably little point saying so.

Across the Nations of ECOWAS

As news of the French invasion starts to sink in, crowds of West Africans take to the streets in Accra, Bamako, Dakar, Conakry, Niamey, Ouagadougou, Bissau; across ECOWAS, citizens, many of them only recently freed from the terror of dictatorship, are unequivocal in their determination and defiance. The West Africans are, as was not the case when France first colonized the region, united, and won't submit to imperial domination again. Massive demonstrations are held throughout the first day of France's invasion and into the second, where effigies are burnt, Beninese flags flown proudly, and speeches made. In Conakry, Yugoslav M59s, AKMs, and old Moisin-Nagants are passed-out to eager hands, along with boxes of 7.62x39mm ammunition, and in Accra there aren't nearly enough FN-FAL clips, let alone rifles, to equip close to all the ready guerillas.

Posters of Derek Igomo and his ministers, in military uniform whether accurate or not, are plastered-up on streetcorners and in marketplaces, with slogans encouraging defiance and preparedness. Inspired by the Lusakan example, guerilla armies, occasionally led by army veterans or in rare examples foreign mercenaries, take to the field across West Africa, ready to fight the French invasion on their own land while regular forces deploy east to block the advance through Benin and Togo. The absence of expected UAR military support, then, isn't so disheartening, and Lusakans with war experience are welcomed into the ranks of militia levvies who are themselves ready and quite willing to fight a protracted bush war against the French, should their campaign prevail.

Laurent Gbagbo, whose arrest is made public soon after the event, is painted as a traitorous snake, ready to sell his people to the French and forsake his African identity for a stipend from Versailles. Gbagbo's experience in Abidjan at the hands of James Malinke serves as a warning to other West African heads of state who might not be totally committed. They can expect, at best, imprisonment, and at worst...well, much worse than imprisonment, that much is certain.

Togo

ECOMOG forces withdrawing from Benin in order to avoid being out-flanked begin to form a defensive line along the Mono River, with the bulk of these regular troops concentrated along its lower extent. With only hours to prepare before the first French troops are expected, the force of some 5,000 Beninese regulars, plus a joint division of as many Malian, Nigerien, and Burkinabe troops, don't expect to hold the Duke of Normandy's forces for very long, but they will force him to make river crossings in the face of a somewhat dug-in enemy, with a bit of artillery to back them up. It is the hope of every West African soldier now along the Mono that the Beninese militia levvies will buy them just a few more hours, enough to finish a group of foxholes, or enough to zero a battery of howitzers.

Togo's 7,000-strong regular army, plus militia levvies, reinforce the Mono River line and set-up machine gun nests, minefields, and ambushes just behind it.

North of the main defensive line, a Burkinabe regiment marches into Tone prefecturate in order to delay any French attempt at flanking the troops along the Mono. The 4,000 troops involved in this effort are even supported by a few ERC-90s, and can call upon support from a quartet of SF.260s based at Dapaong.

Ghana

If anyone is in a position to stop the French advance, it is Ghana. With an army swelled to over 40,000 men-at-arms, most of those equipped only with a rifle and a uniform, and often forced to improvise webbing from bits of rope, ECOWAS's largest country has been preparing for war ever since Algeria's re-colonization. Regiments are, by now, in position from the Burkinabe border to the shores of the Bight of Benin, forming a defensive line roughly parallel with Lake Volta, with tank companies deployed at key points to sure-up the light infantry. Few in number, Ghana's tanks, either ex-Swiss Pz-68s or ex-Swedish Ikv-91s, are heavily and carefully camoflauged, and in many cases dug-in. Faced with French Leclercs, the Ghanaian armored corps can't hope for a mobility advantage, or an armor advantage, but even the old, insufficiently-armed Ghanaian tanks can do a lot of damage to APCs, infantry, and light vehicles. It is hoped that the French tanks will either pass the Ghanaian vehicles by, or concentrate elsewhere, or fail to spot them until they've already shot-up some of the RVL's infantry carriers.

Ghana can also boast a fairly potent air defense force, centered around some six ex-Lusakan F-20Ls and another ten F-5Ls, and enough U-Darter AAMs to last at least as long as the aircraft themselves. Six more MB.326Ks, refurbished in Israel, fly in the close support role. All these aircraft, armed only with within-visual-range U-Darters and Magics, are not likely to last long past their first sortie, but could end up causing losses just the same if used skillfully.

Although confident in the army's ability to make the French really work for a win in Ghana itself, Accra does call on some outside help. Derek Morgan, celebrated amongst certain circles for his exploits in Lavrageria, is considered a perfect advisor for Ghana's militia levvies and recieves a letter from the Minister of Defense.

Mumbai

Parliament, in uproar over Louis-Auguste's West African adventure and fearful of another brutal European rampage through the resource-rich region, takes the UAR up on its offer to host the Unioners' military. No.44 squadron's Belfasts, no longer needed for airlifts to Bengkulu and the same aircraft that dropped the Union paras that helped overthrow the Tendyala junta, begin to load light infantrymen from the Army of the Godavari's 21st Division, and prepare for an airlift similar to the one conducted to Bengkulu, with the short-term goal of putting 5,000 equipped INA troops in a position to help the ECOWAS nations. IAF and IN attack squadrons formerly destined for the Spyrian-Union effort against Aznar in the Philippines are also held back. Lilongwe, long a friend of Mumbai, is contacted about basing arrangements for both the IAF's Jaguar squadrons and two additional attack units, one made up of Tornados and the other made up of IN Hawks.

The Ibrahim Haidari's battlegroup also recieves orders to move sooner than anticipated, and with some 2,000 marines loaded onto five requisitioned freighters, leaves Daman to seize Reunion.

Chinese naval ships have been barred from entering the Panama canal, signalling an end to Chinese efforts to assist the Australasians and London in the European War.

"We are very disappointed by Washington's decision, but we will continue to aid London through other means."

With two free carrier fleets in the Pacific, Chinese attention thus turns towards French holdings in Asia...

Mozambique Channel

Overhead a quartet of Golkonda light fighters escorted an ex-Al Khali EMB-145 SA Erieye surveillance and early warning and control aircraft on a new patrol as an IJ-22 Orao reconnaissance jet peeled off and headed south.

A few hundred slightly queasy Zambians, Zimbabweans, and Tanzanians lead by a handfull of Zanzibar Arabs, much the more comfortable of the African Republicans at sea, watched the aircraft on their way, and turned gazes down to see two Mamba Class D/E submarines -ex Soviet Hounds- diving below the waves.

In a loud fashion the men were called to their stations in readiness for action as intelligence was fed back on the disposition of the enemy. Whatever the specifics, the weather and radio station on Ile Glorieuse, if the men could have seen it from twelve miles out, wouldn't have looked quite so intimidating as the French kingdom appeared in the imaginations of the sailors as they turned on it a pair of guns that were larger than any in continental Europe.

The Hindustani-built Zanzibar's fifteen inch rifles would extinguish any defiance forthcoming from the garrison in an instant should the Glorioso Islands fail to signal the surrender that had just been demanded of them via the monitor's communications officer.

This was just an aside, a notable waypoint on the mission to Mayotte, where two hundred thousand French subjects would be compelled to sever their allegiance. They would hear the call to surrender delivered in Swahili by a fellow Muslim, but not until the Glorioso issue was settled en route.

The Zanzibar, over-flown by Tanzanian Air Force jets and preceeded by two Mamba Class submarines, was escorted by both of the Union's Indian-built Revolution Class multi-role corvettes, a Twiga Class mine countermeasures vessel, and sailed along side two laden Kiboko Class utility landing craft and two Dai Class hovercraft assault vehicles.

Preston ASWAP planes and Super-Helix ASuW helicopters flying out of Zanzibar watched regional waters against intrusion, and Mbu Class missile boats were prepared to deploy against Roycelandian, Free State, or other threats.

President Miyanda issued a statement declaring that the Glorioso Islands, five essentially uninhabited square kilometres of rocks and reefs, had been invited to surrender to a joint UAR naval mission. It didn't exactly avenge or liberate Portugal or save West Africa, but that was no reason to not take the little French outposts.

((We all have a drink now and then, me more now and then. Now do you mean Gibraltar and not Portugal as well? because I think both Spain and I would agree there is something to work on if that’s the case…Ill hold off on the next round of naval combat, except the submarines imminently threatening my fleet. And it’d have to be a comprehensive treaty, but we could find a few fall guys and such. I’m amenable to the idea, consider IC that secret Holy League channels would have made it clear. Ohh, and LRR, Reunion was given to Roycelandia ages ago, just FYI, by Louis XX even. I’m sorry for not dropping that caveat in our earlier TG. And what I post, I am exhausted. Bon nui mes amis!))

Bay of Biscay

When it became clear of the size of the battles sheer importance, the French Admiralty decided to take ever bolder measures to ‘hold the lines’.

The Fourth Fleet, consisting of the Cherbourg class battleship Strasbourg and the Restoration class aircraft carrier Ville de Paris along with six Marseilles class light cruisers and half as many again Brest class frigates along with a number of corvettes and several Nantes class submarines under Admiral le Baron de Feusil received emergency orders.

Previously ordered to support the Second Fleet near to the Channel Islands, they were now ordered to general quarters and dispatched with all haste south to rendezvous with the First Fleet, and relieve them with all possible vigor.

High above the Bay of Biscay

In an attempt to show its dedication to the war effort, the Ordu du Saint Esprit was given permission to launch an attack in support of the Royal Navy and His Catholic Majesty’s armada.

One French Heavy Lancaster bomber formation, three squadrons (44 craft) of the Cherubim wing were just in sight of Cordova far below as they set out for their destination. They were escorted likewise by three squadrons of modified long-range Mirage-2000’s and one squadron of modified Rafale’s.

They were armed with special long range Exocet Mark II missiles, heavier than the shipboard version and only able to be launched by heavy bomber due to their size. Their targets were solely the three magnificent British aircraft carriers, and each craft carried six of the missiles. They were still far out of range, but would be able to fire from a hopefully safe distance.

The Atlantic, the 12th of June

The missile strike went more or less as expected. With the ranges involved, it was more like a testing volley, only a quarter of the fleet deploying their capability. Still, le Marechal ordered all empty tubes refilled, and all filled ones armed for second strike, with all capable effort. To prevent any ‘duds’, the safety’s of the missiles would shut down in flight. While this might result in an early explosion, it was hoped for the sheer volume of the anticipated second attack would cover the loss of 100% dependability so to speak.

What was not expected was the cunning maneuvers of the British fleet into the theatre. The Rafales prepped for an anti-ship assault were immediately called back to be refitted for aerial defense, while those that had done so earlier joined the fighter umbrella. With the situation still in their hands so to speak, with reinforces on the way and having chosen their own ground, it was pointless to launch such a small assault on such a defensible navy.

Notably these Rafale’s were not a jet to be trifled with, on par with the finest jets in the world, and though the British propaganda portrayed a terrifying wildcard, the flying aristocracy of France, no doubt Spain too, felt more than capable of their abilities. Jets do not win battles after all, but pilots do.

The French fleet then halted its flank speed drive to engage and in a similar maneuver to that of his Walmingtonian counterpart came about to rendezvous with the Spanish fleet. Admiral Cervera now received direct requests from his French ally to abandon thoughts of an aerial first strike, but to prepare for a British and Australasian sortie against our forces.

And so the French fleet assumed a defensive formation aside the Spanish fleet, with near three squadrons of Rafale’s in a freshly sortied umbrella. The Spanish fleet was asked to prepare a good share of its magnificent naval aviation force for aerial defense as well. There would be three Cherbourg class battleships in the area soon, and that would provide offensive element enough, so the Admiralty hoped.

And in aerial defense, the French would be able to glean every advantage they could from the situation considering the AA and AM power of the Spanish and especially French fleets, where as a massive offense would have left unstable plans for a defense.

Submarines…

One critical factor that Australasian intelligence missed is that Royal Navy combat doctrine, centered around the idea of large fleets for defensive ability and offensive possibilities, used submarines as defensive and not offensive tools.

Therefore, though they were nearing the destroyer screen and even prior to that several swift corvettes outliers, it was the Nantes class attack submarine RN-19 that had detected the approaching force using its own sonar.

The fleet was prepared for such an attack, and began the necessary countermeasures and evasive actions necessary to such and event. Anti-submarine helicopters, already airborne, now zoomed in on the location, followed in their wake by several frigates and corvettes breaking from the main formation.

But it was the attack submarines that would strike first. Coming in like wolves from all directions, four Nantes class submarines led by RN-19 (which was already setting up for its attack) blasted the area with intensive sonar to announce their presence and targeting and startle the Australasian force.

In front of the Australasian force corvettes were dropping noisemakers around the French capital ships, and all vessels had quickly prepared to deploy necessary countermeasures.

The first strike itself was launched by RN-19, far more to cause the Australasian force into a panic than to score verifiable hits, nonetheless that was an object too. Not a very likely object, however, as the submarines captain ordered a full spread of torpedoes to ready, four, and the computers had only acquired one target. Nevertheless, as the three torpedoes sped aimlessly into the Australasian formation, one ping-pinged it’s way straight at the Australasian submarine that had unfortunately fallen in RN-19’s line of fine. Of course, they didn’t know the sub they’d targeted was the SSKN Flamberge.

Benin, Parakou

Papa Africa must have wept as the French, though facing stubborn resistance to be sure, plowed on in their drive west.

The Royal Army Korean Heavy Infantry forces dropped into Parakou seized the town not without a fight, but at least with very few casualties. They were, after all, some of the finest mercenaries in the world and at least some of the best in the elite French Royal Army. One Mirage had been taken down by enemy fire, one forced to land of the field itself for repairs. Civilians were not at all mistreated, simply searched for weapons and then allowed to move on by. Pamphlets were distributed declaring a curfew and advising all ‘native peoples’ to remain indoors as much as was possible until the situation had settled. The only warning was against guerilla activity, which would be instantly punished.

Parakou became the new French HQ, although le Duc de Normandie himself was advancing south to capture Proto Novo. Work began to expand the landing strips and roads, and before long French columns were pouring through the town.

Seeing as more airpower is needed too, a wing of Royal Algerian Air Force Mirage-2000’s are flown in from Fte. Ste. Joan in Laghouat. They soon joined the operations, flying in squads of ten to assure superiority.

The enemy strafing maneuver caused some more damage as well, before a squadron of French Mirage’s drove them off with Magic missile fire.

Still Parakou was secured after not too much fuss by the French forces. As the other columns advanced, as swiftly as possible while still sweeping the paths ahead, enemy resistance was treated in the same way. French forces would fall back from where the attack occurred, Zulu attack helicopters would be brought in for close support and the target sites were blanketed with rocket and machine gun fire. In cases of heavy resistance, such as occurred north of Parakou shortly after its seizure by a mobile French column which had several APC’s knocked out due to carelessness and two jeeps exploded by thick Borgou militia formation; the ODSE command sent in Mirage’s in attack runs, and the whole area was doused in UGC (French napalm) before the French troops advanced past the charred earth and mopped up or apprehended the remaining hostile forces.

The 9th Division RVL, in a swift flanking maneuver, had cut into north Benin and after initial skirmishes with Borgou irregulars had soon run them down and had taken Kouande, setting up a point to protect le Duc’s northern flank.

Through Parakou however the French onslaught flows. More troops, another three divisions, cross over from Nigeria and are soon taking up where the first divisions left off. By evening of the second day, largely thanks to advanced insertions by Royal Air Cavalry Huey’s and close support by both mobile ground artillery and superb Zulu support they had crossed over the largely empty Togolese border as well. The divisions stopped well short of the Mono River, however. That was part of the next step, and ECOWAS would never give up the chance to defend such a vital river…

Casualties:
1 Mirage-2000 downed, one pilot dead
3 APV’s temporarily knocked out of action
1 Jeep destroyed
9 Royal Army Korean Infantry casualties
-4 dead, 5 wounded
28 Royal Vanguard Legion casualties
-13 dead, 15 wounded
3 Gardes Francaises casualties
-1 dead, 2 wounded

((This is something new I’m doing, Id suggest we all do it to keep track of what were loosing here. In all battles too, I mean this is war no?))

Benin, Porto Novo

Rather than charge directly into the city, after a record race through Benin’s south the four division force under le Duc de Normandie stops short of where scouts have detected enemy forces and militias in the capitals outlying areas. His troops are tired after such a race, and dig in lightly across from their foes in Porto Novo. With complete air superiority they were pounding the radioed in resistance clusters, and now was the time to review the situation.

Louis-Auguste’s younger brother’s way had been paved with minor air attacks, the Zulu ground attack helicopter proving invaluable to the French offensive thus far, working in sync with Intelligence to maintain a rolling offensive. Strikes from mobile Mirage bombing groups also smashed moving enemy columns with UGC before they could enact their ambushes. Sometimes only tens of meters from the French lines. But the punch at Parakou had seemed to knock some steam out of Benin, at least outside the looming capital city,

Artillery is brought up, heavy howitzers, along with surface to surface to missile vehicles. By the next morning, le Duc would be in a position to bombard the capital and give his advancing troops a wall of cover to secure their safety yard by yard. Time was on his side, the first stage of the offensive had been completed, in fact was ahead of schedule, and Porto Novo starved and was without power or water.

Pamphlets make their way into Porto Novo, announcing the city would be allowed to keep its government and a general amnesty to its defenders if they surrender now. If not, they should evacuate civilians before that hour ends and the attack commences. Porto Novo will fall, and le Duc de Normandie wished for it to fall with as little loss life as possible.

High above the Lower Banks of the Mono River

…now the ECOWAS alliance forces would realize why the French troops stopped so far back from the Mono river.

French spy satellites clearly picked up the growing concentration of enemy troops along the vital river, which would have to be crossed if the many pronged attack was to continue.

From Nigeria then one squadron of French Lancaster-II heavy strategic bombers took to the air ( three squadrons in Nigeria, 33 craft in all) escorted by a like number of Mirage-2000’s, just in case the enemy decided to take a crack at the big birds.

At maximum attitude above the river, as the French forces charging into Togo stopped to take a breather, guided by satellite lock points lighting up the animated the map the French began to systemically bomb along the river, using their trademark UGC which would clear the river of enemy hostiles. Tons of the chemical was dropped, and continual fires no doubt began to rage out of control as a result.

Every hour a new wave, which is to say another squadron, would take up the bombing run all along the river. Mirage-2000’s in trios also at maximum altitude and using satellite guidance bombed in the interim using standard LGB’s, specifically targeting armored units that were painfully obvious along the ever more charred riverbanks.

The bombing would continue throughout the night, as French forces rested and organized themselves and their equipment for a seizure of the opposite side of the river on the morrow.

San Pedro, Cote d’Ivoire

Marines were the first ashore, but once they had established a wide beachhead two divisions of RVL troops rolled in behind them brigade by brigade. Zulu attack helicopters flown from the landing ships provided ground cover, and the fleets AA missiles covered the vulnerable troops as they landed. Providing the westernmost flank of the French assault General le Marquis de Huerin even landed a Battalion of Order of the Golden Fleece mechanized cavalry, replete with SAM vehicles to LeClerc battle-tanks and support vehicles.

Organized expeditions in force soon left the beachhead under heavy air cover to take up positions along the Sassandra River, pulling back from any resistance and then hitting it hard with mortar, rocket and tube artillery along with Zulu incursions before continuing on cautiously to attack.

The General’s missions was to set up a secure western border while slowly securing the flank His Most Christian Majesties forces had just dug into the ECOWAS’s westernmost appendage.

Off the West African Coast

Having hit Porto Novo with relative accuracy the Royal Navy support ships turned their attention to Accra, which was getting to look uncomfortably tough. Starting at midnight of the second day the French cruisers and frigates begin a satellite cruise missile attack on the city, using the same Fury V missiles that had devastated Ulanger in Lavrageria years and years before with such success.

Unlike the attack on Porto Novo, however, this one would be rolling and ongoing. Power and water would be hit along with airfields and government buildings. The bombardment by cruise missile from sea was not a massive attack.

Rather Accra would experience a steady drone of incoming cruise missiles, around the clock, hitting pin points around their city.

Tessalit, Mali

And on dawn on the second day of World War III, as some western news talking heads and eastern propaganda outlets were peddling the minor war of reclamation and establishment, to complete the picture of tanks and soldiers crossing borders and of general insanity and shell explosion in Western Africa; General Jules Carvaignac, the Francofied name of one of Louis I’s best generals Hussan Lugburguz, invaded Mali from Roycelandian Southern Africa in a surprise invasion of some 60,000 troops and several columns of Louis-Auguste’s hand me down armor and vehicles. Royal Algeria Air Cavalry in the form of Roycelandian Huey’s supported the force as they struck swiftly but ungainly across the border, and air strikes from Fte. Ste. Joan in Laghouat supported the army when called in.

Three divisions of Royal Algerian Army troops formed the nucleus of the force, some thirty-eight thousand regulars. The remainder were “Royal Volunteers”, basically vicious thugs Louis I let out of prison and forced into the army, with promises of alleviated sentence and booty when the war was over.

Owning to a factor of complete surprise they quickly stormed Tessalit, and set themselves up to drive and wedge between Mali and Niger, revealing the frightening prospect of an assault on both those nations’ capitals, as well as get Louis I a vassal state of his own. Well, at least in name, of course de facto the new state would become part of the new French Colonial Empire. But prestige was prestige, and Louis I would in no way be left out. The attack showed that the Kingdom of Algeria was firmly behind their French brethren and lords.

The most effective result of the invasion, and no doubt the most frightening to ECOWAS, was that a northern front had opened up on the West African theatre as well. King Louis-Auguste had played his hand of war it seemed, succinctly in one decisive African gesture more effectively than all his posturing in Asia. The French were conducting a blitzkrieg of their own, against stubborn resistance to be sure, but a blitzkrieg nevertheless.

Succinctly indeed, as ECOWAS was assailed in force on all three of its sides…oh, count that four, if the French naval bombardment was to be counted.

And through it all Versailles stressed this was in no ways unlawful, but simply the lawful reclamation of its former colonies, exhibit the great care taken to avoid any civilian casualties.

Not to be a pain, but how did you detect that my fighters were ready for launch? You'd need to actually SEE the carrier deck to be able to tell that, and if you're at maximum Exocet range then you don't see me at all. And W-o-S, I HOPE you don't accept a fall guy and some apologies. I'm dyin' here! Anywho...

SSKN Flamberge

"Fuck," the sonar operator cursed. "Enemy submarine just went active! I have noisemakers in the water. I'm not sure, but it sounds like the fleet just went to full alert. I don't-- Dammit! Hydrophone effect! Incoming torpedoes, range is one-thousand metres. I count four. Repeat, zero four torpedoes incoming."

MacDonald's mouth went dry. Submarines? The hell did the French have submarines?

"Launch countermeasures! Rig the boat for dive. Begin evasive action. As soon as we dodge those torpedoes, get me firing solutions on everything that moves!" The noisemakers launched from the after tubes, nobody taking the time to reply to the order.

"Torpedo has gone active! It has acquired the Flamberge. Range, nine hundred metres." The sonarman's voice acquired a note of panic. "Still closing!"

"Countermeasures are active," the tac officer said calmly. "Reading cavitation effect at maximum."

"Torpedo is still closing. It's still... its course is deviating! Torpedo has acquired countermeasures and is closing with them!" MacDonald breathed a sigh of relief. Even so, they weren't out of danger yet.

"Officer of the deck, rig the boat for dive. Get us out of here, people!"

Sub-surface, elsewhere

The other three submarines, SSKNs Epee, Sabre and Cheval de Frise, scattered as the other submarines went active. Sabre and Cheval panicked and ran, discharging countermeasures in their wake. Sabre's captain, an old hand, quickly slowed his boat and slid into the dark spaces in the sea. But Cheval's captain didn't, and his boat made enough noise to bring all the hounds of hell down on him.

But the Epee dove like an arrow and listened with passive sonar, making as little noise as possible. Her captain waited as the French fleet's countermeasures slowly died, and watched as the sonar operator scribbled down his latest estimates of enemy strength. It was a lot, no way that they could sneak in and attack again. The captain sighed and scrubbed at his eyes. Where could he go to hurt them the most? He ran through a list of possible targets in his head, vis-a-vis his current weapons loadout.

His torpedo bays were filled with ACWIG Type VII antiship/submarine torpedoes, and his VLS tubes with Aborigine cruise missiles. French fleets, he now knew, seemed to keep submarines on retainer as defensive vessels. That meant that attacking a French fleet would require both a baiting attack and a sub hunt, neither of which he particularly relished. On the other hand, with French assets converging on the battle he'd be well placed to hit the enemy somewhere else-- perhaps a land target?

The French ports were comparatively empty, but trying to sneak inside one of those might be a bit much. On the other hand, the Spanish were still fortifying Gibraltar. Slipping quietly away and loosing missile strikes on the Rock was certainly a possibility. Indeed, a very good one.

"Officer of the deck, rig for silent running. Make your depth 950 metres and set course for Gibraltar."

Atlantic Fleet, 12th June

Sir Hugo chewed the butt of his cigar as he read the printout from Admiral Longworth. He grinned bleakly. Maybe he'd only need to hold against 3:1 odds until the morrow? AWACS readings showed that the French were recalling their fighters and throwing up a defensive screen. At least they'd been scared by the little fighter stunt he'd pulled.

Outside, he could see damage control teams scurrying around the deck of the Stormhawk. The worst of the damage would have to stay; but a bit of twisted deck plating wasn't so bad. The pock-marked section main deck was being hastily filled with quick sealing foam, and though it wasn't as hard as the concrete layer that had preceeded it, the foam would bear the weight of an AS-12 easily.

On a darker note, the French and Spanish fleets were converging like wolves to the slaughter. They'd picked the battlefield, and they had achieved superiority of numbers. Staying would serve to keep the French on station while the British arrived, but the Royal Navy wouldn't bring allied superiority either; the League would be bolstered by the French 4th fleet as the Australasians were by the British.

It was time to pick a new battlefield. One where he could put his smaller force to work quickly, and hope that the Elians let the Island Fleet through soon.

"Lieutenant," he said to the comm officer. "Inform Commodore Wheeler that he has command of the fleet. If any major attacks take place, have me brought to the bridge. I'll be in the wardroom."

Raleigh, Australasia

DPM Cobar Jangala sent a fax upon hearing of the invasion of Africa. Its recipients were the heads of state in all the ECOWAS nations, as well as those facing attack. It read thusly.

Honourable Sir/Madam Prime Minister/President ______
I am sure that you understand the need to move quickly, which necessitates the catchall phrasing of this letterhead. It has come to my attention, and the attention of the world that your nation has been or will soon be attacked by the Imperialist French.

I wish you to know, leader to leader, that we stand by you. I know that these words are hollow and cold. They mean nothing. In truth, we can offer very little as far as support goes. Our forces are fully engaged or en route to the theatre, and are unable to support you in your time of need.

Nothing can excuse this, and we request your forgiveness. On the other hand, Australasia has a large surpluss of military hardware that has been phased out of our military service. We have no use for it, while you no doubt do. Shipments of roughly 100 Leopard 1 and 135 Centurion tanks can be made via aircraft convoys, although with the French attack underway, the training of crews for these tanks may be difficult. More useful will no doubt be the L1A1 and M-16A1 battle rifles, with ammunition provided, which can be shipped in great bulk. We have no further use for these rifles, but if your nation is interested, we will provide them free of charge. In addition, two squadrons (24) AS-6 Tornado fighters can be provided, but training will take some time. Lastly, Brigadier Sir Edwin Morrell (ret.) a veteran of the ((whatever AMW calls the Vietnam War)) conflict has offered his services as an advisor. He gained a modicum of notoriety for unconventional tactics against the communist insurgents during that war, and was unusally successful with his brigate of regular infantry.

Success and honour be your lot,
-DPM Rt. Hon. Cobar Jangala

Sao Paulo, Australasia

It was an unusal day for the men of the 89th Bomber Squadron. They had awoken, as usual, at 0600 hours. From there, though, the day had turned strange. The first order of the day was to prep the 20 AB-33 heavy bombers for transit to the Azore Islands. Their carried ordinance was reduced to allow for extra fuel and parts, while cargo aircraft flew both the bombs and the squadron's mechanics, auxiliaries and equipment there as well.

The bombers were escorted by the 114th Suicide Kings, an elite unit flying the AS-12s, and the 20th, a not-so-elite unit that flew AS-17s. The small fighters carried drop pods, but would need to be refuelled en route nonetheless. To that end, three fuel tankers would also accompany the growing fleet of aircraft.

OOC- no pain at all. I assumed from my sat and rad info by the number of your craft it was a full attack...upon your withdrawel I figured that would be the time to strike, a la The Battle of Midway. And the French have quite an extensive satellite network applicable to military service, honed in the Lavragerian Campaign. Ah, you do the dance well, and we keep in step! Still, Im retiring, again and finally, after grading amny a paper, and will reply to no doubt another wave of posts tommorrow. Bon nui et al

[OOC: I will center my efforts at guarding the French northern flank by engaging the British. I plan to get the first shot in after those Lancasters finish the job, so I will wait for Walmington to post.]

London, with just a few hundred military personnel left in Strathdonia, has decided to express support for UAR action against French southern African holdings, but urges regional powers to co-operate, suggesting that Strathdonian boats take part in any landing against Mayotte to bring the widest possible multi-national legitimacy to the operation.

Closer to home, British forces prepared for heavy action.

The Atlantic

As the French bomber force assembled, again threatening to deploy Roycelandian machines against Good King Godfrey's subjects, Admiral Longworth began to launch fighters from Godfrey Grâce à Dieu and Alfred the Great, sending some Super Harriers up on short take-off runs to get as many as possible into the air. Some of the fighters went up with four BAe Meteor missiles carried internally and no external stores, making them stealthy almost to the degree of Quinntonia's F-35, while others, some way behind, also had ASRAAM on their wingtip rails.

The big bombers would be targetted hundreds of kilometres out from the fleet, and attacked at eighty, a hundred, maybe more kilometres from the stealthy Harrier 4s, of which one six came from each of the two carriers in the frontal low-signature wave, having forty-eight missiles to unleash should the bombers continue on a course towards the fleet.

Slightly behind, far more Harriers were deploying with internal and external stores, prepared to get what the vanguard missed, to engage escorts if necessary, and even to attack anti-ship missiles using thier own large cutting-edge arsenals.

While everyone in the fleet was too busy to worry or feel much fear, top government officials in Britain, receiving frequent updates, were intimidated by yet another deployment of heavy bombers... but Admiral Longworth seemed composed, catagorising French operations as the tactical work of men made for powder and perfume and galas. "A lumbering wing of bombers, detected at long range and probably carrying long-range cruise missiles, is not going to stop a British fleet of war, though it has every chance of going the way of, how many was it? Forty-seven French aircraft at the Coral Sea. No, you can't just saunter up and bomb somebody who isn't already beaten. Unless perhaps you happen to be Quinntonia."

Still, the fleet's destroyer screen made ready, frigates remaining in place against submarine threats, and the Glorious was pulled back from afore and port to sit east of the carrier flagship, her arsenal and armour protecting Godfrey Grâce à Dieu fully. Longworth certainly didn't fear the bombers, but was biting his cheek to keep from commenting on the missile capacity of his large destroyers, which he said during their building ought to have more than forty-eight surface-to-air missiles a piece. Certainly these French missiles and aircraft could be dispatched, but if he was then to fight the Franco-Spanish fleets and still have air defences afterwards then the Meteor, ASRAAM, and PAAAMS had better be accurate as was claimed.

Queen Elizabeth III, still just west of the main fleet, was ordered to put fighters in the air as well, these with heavy fuel loads to patrol against other threats while her two sisters worked on the interception of the French bomber assault.

Southwest of the Azores

HMS Ocean, along with the submarine Assault, frigate Lancaster, and a ship from the Royal Fleet Auxiliary, made for port on the Australasian Atlantic coast, Royal Marines and Super Harriers aboard.

The English Channel

On the south coast, Air Commander Joe Walker had Fighter Air Defence Command South's interceptors in the air after some part of the grid -RAF Nimrod AEW and ground based radar, and RN shipboard and Merlin MASC sets- detected the French forming-up a large wing of bombers and escorts heading out over the Atlantic.

One had to admit that the level of French mobilisation was quite staggering. There was some compensation in knowing that for every X volunteers to the British and French armed forces, Walmington had turned down several as sub-par where the French had to take the bad with the good, and the marginal inferiority of most French military equipment would only be magnified by such massive production. But when the French had bombers and fighters actively deployed in just about every theatre on earth and pulled fleet after fleet out of their ports to counter every move of the free world's forces, it was hard to take much heart in fairly speculative allied edges in the quality stakes. It seemed that Britain would be forced to follow the French lead, and, much as the French continued to fly Mirage 2000 with so-so pilots against substantially superior British aircraft, the MoD too would be forced to find a cheaper fighter than Super Harrier and Typhoon and to crew it with anybody able to pass training, whether they excelled or not.

In time, allied forces would only grow while the League's plateaued, but again this meant little to major British and Australasian forces presently under the kosh, and the loss of these men and ships would only mean a longer and more painful wait for numeric parity to be achieved and surpassed, during which time one dared hardly imagine what horrors the League may inflict on the world's more vulnerable peoples.

Nobody trusted that the British Isles would not be attacked.

Walker's command shortly had scores of aircraft forming up over the south coast and the Channel, and several warships came out of Portsmouth and Plymouth, if to do nothing else than remind the French that we're here, even if we do seem to be suffering a slight absence of strength.

((OOC: Sorry, I feel that I should have done something more with the fleet, there, but I seem to be very distracted, today. Bit of a messy post, that.))

((Well, the smith will take up his tongs soon, and Ill have something up later today....but, as a thought, I made an OOC thread for this 'scenario' shall we say)):

OOC "Iron West' [AMW] (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=11168080#post11168080)

OOC: I need a report of general fleet dispositions in the Mediterranean theatre from any nations likely to attack the Island Fleet.

IC:

Suez Canal, CVAN Quenfis, 13th June.

Vice Admiral Peter Mayfair Denning sipped his brandy as the Island Fleet cruised up the canal. It was the largest attack force ever assembled by the Free Colony of Australasia, capable of deploying overwhelming ground forces to the target zone. Its ships, though smaller in number, were the best in the world. The oldest were the Battleships, built in the mid '80s. The newest were the DDAs, the first of which slipped from its moorings in Darwin in 1999. The captains were professional and intelligent officers trained at the academy in Raleigh, and the crews were rigorously trained.

If the French and Spanish made a fight of it, they'd be faced with a talented foe armed with the best weapons in the world. The disadvantage, of course, laid in the relative numerical inferiority of Australasian ships and the lack of friendly ports. And of course, in the Island Fleet's commander. But he'd never admit it.

Truth to tell, Denning was an excellent peacetime officer. He had an eye for organization and drill; it was through his work that the fleet was so well prepared. But as a tactical commander he was average, or slightly worse than that. He knew it deep down, but the Vice-Admiral was a proud man who had twice challenged men to illegal duels for insulting his honour and ability to command. But here, outnumbered and in unfamiliar seas, it wasn't organization or drill that would win the war, it was tactical brilliance. And he didn't have it.

And so, as the fleet cruised out of the Suez, Denning calmed his nerves with a snifter of amber liquid. He wore his dress whites like he always did, complete with golden braid and cap. And he stroked his well trimmed beard, praying to God that the French would surrendur, or that Sir Hugo would beat them soundly in the Atlantic.

Ah, there was an officer that he wished he could be. Sir Hugo Jackson Damascus was a tough old man, rotund and posessed of an oral fixation that had cigars dangling from his teeth at every hour of the day. He was abrasive and loud, but he could fight a ship and a fleet with an aloof calm. The press described him as a force of nature, not subtle or given to great feats of brilliance but supremely capable nonetheless.

The last Admiral at sea was his own second in command, Rear Admiral Thaddeus Augustus Beauregard Wilberforce. The thin man had the look of genteel aristocracy and a rather charming nature. He spoke quietly and very frequently. Unassuming, nobody outside of the Navy knew his name. But he won every wargame in which he was involved with a combination of rabid defense and stunning, swift attack. He'd been promoted to Commodore only a year before, and was a rising star in Australasia's navy.

Denning took another swig of brandy as he stood on a balcony beside a signal light. It was a bad business. Very bad indeed.

Off Gibraltar, SSKN Epee

"COMSAT 13 has made contact with the floating wire, sir. It is sending target information now." The Epee's captain watched as a small bar filled slowly, showing that the computers were downloading information. "Photographs are printing." COMSAT 13 was one of several spy sattelites that orbited the planet. They were sent up into space as part of the Australasian Sattelite Project, carried aboard Quinntonian rockets. Every inch of the globe was, at one point or another, within the camera view of one of these sattelites. Gibraltar had been two days ago, and these were the photos from that orbit segment.

The officer handed the captain a packet of photos, which he carried to the wardroom for study. There were docks, fortifications, artillery batteries and an airstrip. Much of what existed there was being repaired, and work proceeded apace. Most of the major shot-holes were being plastered up, while new fortifications were dug in the ground. The Spanish were preparing to make Gibraltar impregnable.

The captain took a red marker and circled roughly ten major targets, and outlined several secondaries as well. Then he took down the target information on a notepad and hurried to the bridge.

"Officer of the deck, make your depth fifty metres," he said. "Flood VLS tubes 1-50 and prepare the cruise missiles for launch." The captain handed the tac officer his sheet of paper. "Compute firing solutions on these targets, and input them into the cruise missiles' guidance computers. Major targets are the docks, the airstrip, anti-missile systems and the artillery batteries facing into the straight. Secondary targets are the fortifications for ground troops. Fire missiles in two waves, one targetting the primaries and one targetting any surviving primaries and the secondaries."

"Aye, sir," was the chorus as the boat began to rise. Water whispered against the hull of the Epee, before gurgling into the tubes. If anyone was listening closely enough, they'd hear what sounded like either a missile launch or a deep sea cave-in of a geographical feature.

The next noise, though, was unmistakeable. It was the sound of rougly a score of cruise missiles firing at once. They burst the surface in an instant, and were airborne moments later. The huge missiles carreened straight towards Gibraltar Rock, while below the surface SSKN Epee dove deep and ran, attempting to put distance between itself and the launch point before the Spanish navy's cutters showed up to find them.

The cruise missiles covered the distance in seconds, screaming towards Gibraltar's defenses like mad banshees.

((OOC-Okay, please hold on from posts for just one bit guys, I have alot to respond to. Ill have something up in the next few hours though, Im working on it now. As for the Med, Id say eeveryone agrees that youre pretty well off in the Eastern Med. The Black Sea, if for some reasons you wanted to go there, would be off limits too. And I wish UE would have posted his permission for us on this thread.

Th Western Med, however, contains both the French Third Fleet and the Algerian Royal Navy, and that would be tricky, with Spanish reserves ships as well, and bases throughout the whole area that would subject you to air assault.))

Northern Benin

The attacking French will find that the better Beninese irregulars aren't exactly apt to stick around and wait for attack helicopters and artillery to arrive. While Normandy's forces do claim the lives of several hundred militiamen, who, in their inexperience, stand their ground and spray French Leclercs and AMX-10s(?) with AKs and RPG-7s, other ambush parties, often led by men recruited from the UAR, wait in total silence and under thick camoflauge until light infantry and trucks manifest themselves, and open up then. And after firing-off a clip, or a few RPG grenades, these irregulars run for their lives, melting back into the terrain before accurate artillery fire or airstrikes are brought-down upon them. They are further aided by the fact that the French do not pursue the fleeing militiamen, who now don't have to worry about being chased-down by a FAMAS-wielding monster, and who stand a better chance of surviving the less well-directed artillery and airstrikes.

But the best of all the militia levvies wait in their houses, Kalashnikovs and RPG-7s safely stashed underground.They don't go out and fight the invaders on the invaders' terms, when they will have to face-down the brunt of French firepower, but rather save their ammunition and energy for when Normandy's men find themselves in need of supplies from their base in Nigeria.

Three out of the five Alpha Jets, unable to respond to the Mirages, are shot down after dumping their ordnance over French assault columns. Four aircrew are lost as well, as their jets explode at low altitude. The two survivors swing north, and hope to ditch where there is a better chance of being rescued by friendly forces.

Porto-Novo, Benin

The Oueme militia, not exactly the most detectable of armed groups, also conducts ambushes of French infantry wherever possible. Although not a great deal of militiamen manage to get too far outside the capital with arms and ammunition, those that do conduct themselves better than in the northern part of the country. Tanks and APCs are left to booby traps and mines, while small ambush parties slink through the bush, intent on catching French foot patrols or logistical units. Still, over two hundred Oueme militiamen are killed in less than tactful frontal attacks made against French armor.

Zulu attack helicopters operating in the vicinity of the capital will find their work very dangerous, with Beninese Army SAM teams, toting Javelins or SA-14s, constantly on the lookout and never far from an ambush. The more capable Beninese soldiers are the ones assigned to man the missile ordnance, and they wait until the French helicopters are well within the weapons' engagement envelope before launching. Several helicopters are targeted in this manner and it will hopefully force the French to move their deadly helicopters to higher altitudes or longer distances, where they are far less effective. Still, if the French do press into the city, they will find Benin's 2,000 regular-army defenders barely able to mount a proper defense.

The capital's defenders ignore the pamphlets, since anybody in the army inclined to surrender Porto Novo had already left for Togo. Beninese civillians, though, stream out of the city, mindful of the brutal assault on Gibraltar and not inclined to be burned alive in a deluge of napalm.

On the Mono River, Togo

The descision to make a stand at the Mono River had been a big mistake. Over four thousand ECOMOG soldiers die in the French carpet bombing, with just as many injured in varying degrees, but even though the ECOMOG division has been fatally weakened in Togo, it is not about to give in. With concentrated forces destroyed, for the most part, the French are left to contend with the 7,000-some Togolese infantry, for the most part unmolested by the bombing raids, plus irregulars and the surviving joint-forces men, who are holed-up in much less visible spots.

Togolese troops are mostly located in the Togo Mountains, west of the Mono River, where the French will have a harder time seeing them and attacking them. Another 2,000 Ghanaians are rushed across the border and into Togo, with the object of reinforcing the Togolese Army's shaky position. Hopefully, the sporadic resistance offered by the survivors from the joint ECOMOG division along the Mono river will hold the French up long enough for the Togolese and newly-arrived Ghanaians to improve their camoflauge and earthworks.

Mandouri, Togo

The Burkinabe regiment in Tone, hopefully far north enough to escape French attention, and traveling with a very low profile, positions itself along a line of low hills just outside Mandouri, and waits for the inevitable French attack. This regiment goes to great lengths to camoflauge its whereabouts, wary of another carpet-bombing like the one that destroyed forces to the south.

Accra, Ghana

Ghana's airfield are hit hard by the French cruise missiles, even if they aren't as good at cratering runways as straight bombs. Several are shot down, though, by exceptional Oerlikon 35mm gunners, but even these vital pieces of AAA take losses from sattelite-guided attacks. Fortunately, most of Ghana's air force survives, but it is dispersed amongst a number of smaller runways throughout the country in order to ward-off total destruction. In the city itself, the damage is substantial. Hundreds are killed, and much of the national parliament meets its death when a French missile lands in the middle of Government House. John Kufuor and Yayi Boni only barely escape death themselves.

The city's resolve, though, is not terribly shaken. Ghanaian technicians, lacking nothing in the way of motivation and tenacity, work around the clock to repair missile damage. Although they are largely unsuccessful, their efforts manage to restore power here and there every once in a while, and serve as inspiration to Accra's now-beseiged population.

San Pedro, Cote D'Ivoire

French forces attempting to pin-down the Ghanaian battalion sent to watch their landing are frustrated when the Major in charge orders a withdrawl soon after the first firefights with Versailles' marines. After letting-loose some rifle grenades from their Galils onto the invaders, and shooting at a few helicopters with Javelins, the Ghanaian troops leave the scene, not at all intent on getting killed by the superior French firepower, and head towards the foothills just north of the town.

Northeastern Mali

The first armed men the French encounter on their push into Mali are blazing mad and fairly effective Tuareg tribesmen. But after they snipe at exposed French vehicle commanders at extreme range and with surprising accuracy, they depart, not interested in facing-down a French mechanized formation on camelback. Their services will, no doubt, come in handy later. Behind the Tuareg come Malian AML-90s, moving at great speed over the sand and supported by the occasional SA-14. The armored cars try to use their superior speed to get around back of the Leclercs and APCs, and stay well outside gun range, but many of them are destroyed by air cover and the effort is aborted before all the armored cars are lost.

Tessalit is, contrary to French expectations, not surprised at all. Mali had been expecting a French invasion for a very long time, and the city is not without its defenses. It is a blessing that the French use Hueys, and as the helicopters approach the town they are subjected to rather strong AAA fire from 23mm ZU-23s, 14.5mm KPVs, 12.7mm NSVs, and a whole host of rifle-caliber weapons in addition to a fair few SA-14s. A pair of L-39ZAs, scrambled from the forward airbase in Kidal, also make their appearance, flying at low level and at high speed. Dangerously, considering the friendly AAA, they tear into French hueys, the old, barely-armored, lumbering helicopters not exactly able to defend themselves, and try to take as many French down as possible before Mirages inevitably show up to destroy the Malian aircraft.

The town continues to fight even after French armor appears, with AML-90s attempting to pick-off APCs, still vulnerable to their 90mm guns, while hidden amongst sand-brick buildings and the occasional earthwork. Rather than risk a wild retreat over largely open ground, where the entire Malian force could be annihilated without any gain, the thousand or so Malian regulars in Tessalit hold their ground, and pour fire into the traitorous Algerians as they advance, hopelessly outnumbered but defiant and determined none the less. Most of the town's civilian population, expecting a massacre at the hands of the French puppet army, flee into the countryside.

Eventually, the town is overrun, but the 1,000 Malian regulars protecting Tessalit don't go down easy by any means.

Off the Glorioso Islands

No doubt much to the relief of the Lusakans, an Indian warship appears nearby to support their taking of the Gloriosos. Armed with a 40mm Bofors L/70, and packing a landing force of some 40 marines, the fearsome INS Paradip arrives just in time to help with the landings, and signals its intent to join the Lusakan formation. An IN Lynx, FN-MAGs mounted in the doors, is readied for operations from the Paradip's helicopter deck while the marines muster by the ship's two motor launches.

Over the Carlsberg Range, Indian Ocean

Perhaps more useful support is en route from Daman, though, in the form of the Ibrahim Haidari and a force of frigates and destroyers, themselves escorting a force of 2,000 Union marines. Traveling at a brisk 20 knots across the Indian Ocean, they will still need another four or five days to reach the Mozambique Channel, but by then it is hoped that Lusaka will have secured Mayotte itself. The IN battlegroup's most important objective is, after all, to take Mauritius from the Austrians, and the fewer troops in Mayotte the better.

The Union commander, Vice Admiral Garvaun Fauji, radios ahead to Zanzibar to announce his pending arrival there, and requests that extra fuel be made ready so that operations against Austrian-occupied Mauritius can be carried out as soon as possible. The MoD also sends a communique to Zanzibar, outlining Union intentions and promising the support of the Ibrahim Haidari's battlegroup if the Lusakans think that they need it.

Presqu'Ile Courpet, Kerguelen Islands

The roar of twin Gems breaks the usual silence over Pointe Suzanne as a Lynx helicopter, wearing the distinctive saffron, white, and green Union roundel, flies low over the treeless landscape. Several kilometers distant, INS Vishakhapatnam, the Union's antarctic survey ship, putters through the Passe Royale on its way to Port-aux-Francais, the largest settlement on the Kerguelen Islands, at a steady ten knots. While it may not look like much, the Vishakhapatnam will, if the Lusakans hold off for another hour, hold credit for the first piece of soveriegn League territory captured. With Port-aux-Francais, a collection of prefab shelters and a small tank farm, in view, not fifteen kilometers distant, the landing party is assembled on deck. 21 crewmen, led by eight marines, prepare to row ashore in the ship's whaleboats, covered by Lynxes overhead and a pair of sandbagged FN-MAGs mounted on either side of the Vishakhapatnam's bridge. If there is any resistance on the part of the small population, and this is not expected, the Unioners will be able to deal with it.

Half an hour later, the Vishakhapatnam comes to a stop off Port-aux-Francais. The boats are carefully lowered into the sea as impromptu gunners train their machine guns on the shoreline, and the landing party, some armed with Sterlings and others armed with Lee-Enfield L8s, begins to row ashore.

((AMX-10's are fine, please in regards to finer equipment consider Restoration France IRL France with the naval exceptions listed. I’m not as familiar myself with French equipment as many of you are, which is quite embarrassing. But I do my best. FAMAS wielding monster tee hee...there is no post in Cote d’Ivoire because the same thing is happening as before, and my time is pressed. I had intended to do a lot more with war happenings in France, but have too much bloody work to do for the morning. So he is he combat, Ill have move stuff up tomorrow for sure.))

The Atlantic, early morning 13th June

The French bombing attack and the escort force were told to maintain a position near to Cordova and not to proceed within range of enemy fire, or a range to launch their own weapons for that matter, until given the renewed signal. With the Walmingtonian fleet sending several fighter units airborne they would bide their time before launching heir strike, hopefully when the British were a bit more occupied.

Meanwhile the French First Fleet stood by for an attack, but after already establishing solutions and such, and subsequently removing many safeties, le Marechal de Gras du Mont felt satisfied the next wave of Exocets would be far more potent, if for no more reason than sheer numbers, than the earlier launches. He would fight an offensive defensive along with the fine maritime mind of Admiral Senor de Cervera, and the Bourbon forces wished to lure the enemy to commit. At least, that was the current thinking, but in battles decisions move as freely as the ides and with a deeper tow.

But still the French waited and maintained Rafale’s in a tight defensive umbrella over the fleet. Lights flashed codes between the French and Spanish Admiral’s bridges as the Holy League forces rallied together. North, the French Fourth Fleet raced towards the battle, with another Cherbourg class battleship and Restoration carrier forming the flotillas spine.

Submarines…

Cheval de Friese, quelle dommage, would attract two Nantes class submarines attention. In the hectic retreat, they followed the brave commander of the Australasian sub, obviously securing the escape of his brethren with his conspicuous exit, and when the poor fellow was about to clear the sights two computers registered a locked target.

Eight torpedoes, each humming with a sonar guide pinging louder as they closed in, are hurled at the oddly named Australasian vessel.

The SSKN Flamberge however would not easily shake RN-19. As soon as the Flamberge slid to go deep RN-19 burst through the foam of the countermeasures, its systems still hot and actively intent on acquiring the Australasian lead boat.

North Benin

French forces are initially frustrated by light attacks due to freshly labeled ‘rebel’ forces, and though many tanks and especially light vehicles are damaged, fortunately no major losses occur. Slowly but surely French patrols closely supported by Zulu attack helicopters and sweeping Mirage formations secured the lines of communication. The offensive forces, fresh from Nigeria slid on by past the 3rd Division RVL in Parakou which was staying and protecting the Royal Auxiliary forces setting up a sizeable base and airstrip for French use, as well as securing the roads and rail lines as much as possible.

The enemy forces were forced by necessity then, from sheer threat of observance, further and further into the hinterlands if they did not wish to face the brunt of His Most Christian Majesties firepower. So the 9th Division RVL set up a firm northern boundary for the French offensives in Kouande, guarding the north as column after column of French troops poured into Western Africa.

Porto Novo, Benin

Shocked with the overt resistance of the Oueme militia while citizens of Porto Novo fled the city en masse, le Duc de Normandie would not afterwards hesitate to storm the city and disarm it rebels cabals by glorious force, and so take the first of West Africa’s capital cities. With Porto Novo secured, the whole of southern Benin would be under French hegemony, and the push on Ghana could begin in earnest, already French troops fought I Togo. No doubt le Duc would move south to take Togo’s capital as well, in time. The African Campaign had to be desperately fast, Normandie was aware of this, and he wanted nothing more than to put Benin behind him in his drive to link up with General de Huerin in the west and storm Accra.

Civilians were guided by French authorities to refugee camps funded by the Catholic Church and Her Serene Majesty Jillesepone north of the capital. The French did not even hesitate to use the occasion to indoctrinate the refugees on their new status as subjects of France, guaranteed their happiness domestic by Louis-Auguste most kind. Civilians were searched as well.

But as the flow of civilians ebbed Louis-Auguste’s younger brother sealed the perimeter about Porto Novo. Heavy howitzers and rocket artillery were brought up, and French troops formed up into assault teams and prepared to follow the armor in. Zulu helicopters, of which His Majesty lost 3 and had 6 damaged over Porto Novo due to rebel intransigence, withdrew before the bombardment began.

And open up it did. Porto Novo would be hit with artillery before the troops went in, and le Duc wanted a display to dismay the defenders. At one in the morning, ninety some pieces of RVL artillery opened up, blasting away at the outer city, and raking it block by block with barrages. Howitzers thumped and rockets flared before howling into the city. The bombardment, firing at full pace the whole time, ceased at 4:00 a.m.. Visible in the early morning light already were the columns of smoke rising from the city.

Just before he ordered the assault, twenty-four Mirage’s swept in low over the east outer city, where a sizeable number of defenders had been seen and where the attacking troops would have to cross directly, and doused the whole area with generous amounts of UGC.

So, when elements of the 23rd Division Gardes Francaises, supported by Vanguard Legion detachments received their orders to advance, they did so quickly. Tanks and APC’s rolled along in support, the later firing away into enemy held structures. Ten minutes after the artillery ceased and five minutes after the napalm raid the two thousand defenders, hopefully shell-shocked by now, were confronted with some ten-thousand swiftly moving enemy troops, supported by the much hated and rightly feared Zulu helicopter, attacked and charged straight through the Novan lines in multiple sectors, always with a deadly crossfire flowing from behind them. The fighting was tough, but swift, and soon isolated forces would be forced to individually surrender. That, or trapped in a fixed position, be subjected to a deadly and accurate French air strike. And since African Bombing Command was free after the Mono operations, to fight on isolated so was suicidal.

On the Mono River

The 5th, 6th, and 7th Divisions Royal Vanguard Legion, at 12,000 men a piece, follow the heavy bombing with a flanking maneuver around and through parts of the river. They are led by General Sum Yung Kim of His Majesties 3rd Korean Division, which leads the force easily. Enemy remnants are swept up with huge amounts, unnecessary amounts, of firepower, and the ECOMOG forces on the Mono are no longer a factor in the conflict. Survivors are taken prisoner, in keeping with a gentle French approach to make colonization a bit easier.

With such pressing air support they soon secure positions around the river, but then are surprised in a dizzy of awkward positions securing this part of Togo when the massed militia attack came to meet it. Luckily for the French, General Yung Kim seized the initiative, and soon was using the opportunity to pit his Korean heavy infantry stationed in key points against the Togolese militia. His kevlar armored troops were more or less some of the toughest soldiers in world, his position seemed to hold well.

Then slowly but surely, moving on its feet agley again, the 6th Division swung back around, and at the southern base of the Mono River cut back around behind the enemy militia forces, while the 5th has deployed troops to secure the rear lines to Benin and scout the current position. This as the 7th Division moves south and prepares to take Atakpame, marking the western salient of the French drive into Africa.

Off the coast of West Africa

The French Royal Navy battle group would continue their around the clock cruise missile strikes against Accra, hitting some locations in the city time and time again, such as the water, power, and media facilities.

And rather than a heavy assault, the attack is a long and steady stream on missiles which rain without fail on the capital with frightening regularity.

Northeastern Mali

The Mirage’s do show up, and destroy the Malian aircraft, but not before the Malians take their toll and down ten Royal Algeria Air Cavalry Hueys along with their rather thick AA on the ground.

A few Algerian officers are lost, but many more camels are downed. Hueys may be old, but there nothing better suited than one for strafing down native levies and camelback snipes with machine guns.

The Royal Algerian armored forces, personally led by “General Jules” as Lugburguz was colorfully referred to, along with the Huey air support do make short work of the light vehicle sortie against King Louis I’s forces. Tessalit is encircled, and the main body of troops passes on south, moving towards their immediate goal, Kidal.

Tessalit, or rather the seizure of the city, is turned over to four regiments of the Royal Volunteers. The city is indeed taken, but the fighting is hard, and the Malian regulars meet their end, the entire garrison, in brutal street fighting with crazed Algeria convicts turned soldiers. Eventually the Bourbon flag is hoisted over the municipal center. The Royal Volunteers loose hundreds as well, but more replacements were already on their way from a fresh prison sweep. Soon Algerian Regulars arrive, and the city is considered safely occupied.

With the city taken, two squadrons of RAAF Mirage’s arrive to secure the Algerian generals’ maneuvers.

Now ECOWAS must be worried, with a northern invasion that threatened the back door route to Niger, Mali, and Burkina Faso’s heartlands all.

Algiers, Kingdom of Algeria

To fife and drum the new 3rd Corps of the Grand Army, ten divisions of France’s finest, freshly recruited in the motherland and scarcely given a gun and uniform arrives in the southern Bourbon capital with Algeria’s King and Queen greeting them. Along with the 3rd Corps is a Battalion of the Royal Dauphins mechanized cavalry, some 200 M-1 Abrams tanks, and additional Mirage-2000, but far more F-1’s, squadrons after the mass replacements by the Rafale’s in France.

They will be transported to Fte. Ste. Joan in Laghouat, where they will receive their boot camp and advanced training, likewise will the F-1 Mirage’s in toto, and several squadrons of Mirage-2000’s be moved their for Algerian pilots to assume control of.

The armored force is expected to link up with the 62nd Division Gardes Francaises, and together move in to support General Jules’ operation.

The large French deployment causes speculation, but is really quite simple. With Algeria re-enforced, Louis I is now free to commit more of his own armies in the African Campaign, which Versailles has assured him is the greatest priority.

((OOC: Hey, NG? You going to RP my missile strike on your fleet?))

SSKN Flamberge

"I've got a confirmed contact, French Nantes class sub. She's vectoring..." The sonarman listened intently.

"Designate target Alpha 2. Acquire firing solutions for the target and flood forward torpedo tubes." MacDonald didn't expect anything less of the French Navy, their submariners had proven their skill, if nothing else, a few minutes ago.

"Target acquired, ma'am." MacDonald bit her lip. The sub would have found her already, no time to lose.

"Fire torpedo tubes 1 through 4." There was a hiss as the weapons fired. Give it a second, maybe two...

"Torpedoes are active, repeat. Torpedoes are active. They've acquired target Alpha 2."

"Break contact! Get us the fuck away from this fleet!"

Under the sea...
The captain of the Cheval de Frise realized his mistake much too late, as the sonarman started to gabble about the torpedoes. Eight. Eight in the water, headed right for the boat.

"Launch all countermeasures, begin to dive. XO, you have the conn." It was an unusual order, that, and immediately afterward the young man who wore the pips of a commander collapsed against the rail, feeling sick.

"Torpedoes active, sir! Range is... is... it's about 3,000 metres." It was swiftly becoming apparent that the fleet's newest submarine, rushed into service for the war, had spent to few hours in training. The XO, another young man, took charge immediately.

"Firing solutions on any contacts nearby! Work, people! Helm, take evasive action. Make your depth 700 metres." The submarine began to dive, and the sonarman struggled to make contacts through the screen of noise.

"Targets! Sounds like a corvette, sir! I'm reading a corvette. And something else, sounds different. I'm guessing submarine. Yeah. And something big. Carrier, I think!"

"Firing solutions on the carrier! Don't wait for my order, fire at will, all tubes!" The Cheval launched two torpedoes, both her first and her last. Moments later, one of the eight slammed into the rear of the boat. It split like an overripe fruit, and the sonarman, hearing and feeling the concussion, began to pray in his last moments.
"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed by Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will--"
And that was it. Only the torpedoes raced on, straight for the carrier.

More submarines, this time with the Island Fleet

The six attack submarines of the Australasian Island Fleet found themselves availed of a similar task to their French opposite numbers in the Atlantic. Two remained with the fleet, cruising around and listening intently for enemy submarines. The other four boats sailed off into the Mediterranean ahead of the fleet, their passive sonar on full gain and engines at 20 knots. They were nearly silent and all ears.

((I'm-a tired, so the last bit sucked. Apologies.))

[OOC: In response to need to know what my fleet is composed of, I will post some sort of order of battle based upon what I threw together in a short post on the first page. Bare with me. R-11 Principe de Asturias [carrier], L-61 Aragón [carrier], 5 F-100 frigates, 6 F-80 frigates, 2 L-50 Galicia class LPDs [their helicopter decks converted to full fledge helicopter decks for anti-submarine and AWACS purposes], 4 BAM class patrol ships, the M-11 Diana [mine warfare], and the M-35 and 36 mine warefare ships. The A-14 and A-15 logistics ships, and the A-11 fleet oiler, and A-1 logistics ship. The A-111 EW ship, all four salvage tugs, and finally 4 Portuguese frigates; most of them older. In other words, Spain's real life fleet. <_<

And sorry, this has to be a little half-assed.]

Airfields near La Coruña
The two Casa C.212s took off from their provisional airfields in northern Spain, on the Atlantic coast, closely trailed by a flight of six Eurofighter Typhoons. The two C.212s were fitted as electronic warfare aircraft, their bowels holding computers that were designed to pick up signals from hundreds of kilometers worth of distance, or give them out for even longer distances. The eight aircraft, fighter and behemoth alike, slowly increased altitude to around nine thousand meters, all the while making their way deeper into the Atlantic, although steering clear of British assets that could come from the home islands. These eight aircraft; well, the two C.212s specifically, were going to be the pin holding the entire deception together while the main strike hammered the Royal Navy's fleet from a far. Spain was looking for a knock out blow in the early stages to persuade the British to the peace tables, and these flight would help them deliver it.

Inside one of the operators put his coffee between his legs, as he looked at the computer screen infront of him and deciphered all the information he was receiving. He could see any signal put out over the Atlantic that was strong enough for him to get a return on, and that said, he could control the battle from a single aircraft and tell the fleet everything that was going on with their enemy - as long as they could 'hear' it. The aircraft turned and the coffee spilled a bit on his lap and he grunted, "¡Joder!"

His flight commander didn't notice, but soon delivered his orders regardless, "Turn on electronic deception plan CODE RED."

The operator responded, forgetting about the coffee, and he worked his magic on the computer. Within seconds the two Casas were putting out signals that made several shapes the size of French Lancaster IIs, flooding British and Australian radars with them. In other words, they were making the eight aircraft look like a fleet of eight huge bombers, and they were soon met by other so-called 'bomber fleets'. Off the French coast four cuise missiles were putting out another eight signals of Lancasters. The missiles were programmed to fly subsonic, as to mask their identity even futher, and they would fly for about ten minutes, but that would give the Spanish strike just enough time. It was expected that most of the English combat air patrol would shift towards the new perceived threat - it would only be logical; doing so would mean that they would be able to thwart most of the missiles that would be launched, and French lancasters had already struck before. There wasn't any reason the British wouldn't respond to this. And so, while this continues thirty-six Spanish Rafael Ms prepared for the kill.

Flight ALARCON
The thirty-six Rafaels operating off the Aragón and the Príncipe de Asturias flew at close to sea level - not more than one hundred and fifty meters, and they skimmed at around six hundred knots, keeping a rather low velocity. Time was on their side, and they would take advantage of it to get as close as possible without alerting the British to their presence before they could make their strike - furthermore, the more fuel they had at the end, the faster they could make a run for it. They flew in to a range of some one hundred nautical miles from the British fleet, each carrying two Storm Shadows, a long range air to surface missile codesigned between the French and the English. They could have carried more Exocets, but it was thought that they would need the range to keep the edge, and at the height they were firing at they would need all the range they could get. Under standard circumstances the Storm Shadow had a range of over two hundred and fifty kilometers, but in this scenario the missiles would have to virtually sea-skim the entire way to the British fleet to keep out of their radar for as long as possible. They were fitted with a small penetrating warhead, and then with an even larger high explosive, designed to penetrate the armour of their capital warships, but more importantly, to insure a one shot kill with the escort ships, which were the real targets.

And so at one hundred nautical miles the Rafale Ms released seventy-two SCALP EG Storm Shadows, which fell for about four meters before their small turbojets blasted them foward at around nine hundred kilometers an hour. That done the thirty-six Rafales banked as hard as possible, and then began to increase altitude and velocity to make their escape. By the time the British figured out what had happened it would most likely be too late.

Casa C.212 Flight
The received a sudden message from French electronic warfare aircraft that were busy following the strike, which had been alerted to them only around an hour before hand. The Casas were told that the strike was underway and that the missiles had been launched on time and on target. Quickly, orders were relayed to the six Eurofighters escorting the aircraft and they launched a total of five small decoy missiles a piece, having only two sidewinders on their wingtips for aerial battle left. The total of thirty decoy missiles flew blindly at high velocities, emitting electronic signals the size of Tomahawk cruise missiles. The last step of the deception had been completed, and all eight aircraft began to head for home. Most crossed their fingers that the strike would be an utter success, putting gaps that the British could not possibly hope to fill up by the time the battle was over.

Gibraltar, España
Progress on the rock was being achieved, and the wharfs had been repaired faster than anybody had thought, albeit not yet completed. It was occupied by a single battalion detached from El Tercio, fortified in hastily built bunkers, and shore artillery guns had been positioned inside the rock proper in case anybody tried a landing, although most of the big guns were still on the opposite coast in Algeciras, and north, in El Campamento. The entire axis of attack was closely guarded by three radars, and an all new airborne warning and control aircraft. However, the attack had come as a complete suprise. Radar operator Ignacio Alvarez looked at the screen, his eyes baggy and purple, testament to the little sleep he had had in the past few days. But he was fully awake when he the cruise missiles first popped into the window. He didn't waste anytime, and within three seconds the entire area was alerted to the impending air strike.

Most soldiers rushed into bomb shelters, and those manning the air defenses throughout the entire coast of Andalucia reacted quickly. The air was quickly filled with at least a dozen Patriot 2 surface to air missiles, and Aster 15s, cutting through the thin air, arching towards the big, lumbering incoming cruise missiles. A few dropped from the screen, but there were simply not enough surface to air missiles deployed that could stop all the cruise missiles. Spain was simply not prepared for huge missile strikes on her soil, despite the huge shipments of Asters coming in from the north. They were not yet ready. And so soon the rock was, for the second time in the year, covered with explosions as various cruise missiles humbled it. The attack lasted no longer than a minute, but when the soldiers came out of their shelters what they saw was all their work go to naught. The airfield had been peppered with holes once again, and the port had been turned into rubble, and more over, they found at least one hundred of their comrades dead, with five times as many wounded, half of which would never see war again.

However, retribution would be sweet. A single S-80 submarine left the Bay of Taranto and planted itself between Sicily and Tunisia, with a single ASW aircraft at its disposal to patrol areas it could not reach. Two older frigates were also patrolling the area, feeding it with information coming from the ship's sonars and the helicopters they had to patrol. Any submarines that had been sent into the Western Mediterranean now had absolutely no escape route, except if the entire fleets from the east made their move. Then they would quickly make their run for it - but until then, the Western Mediterranean was owned by Spain.

Lisbon
Phillip VII stood in the balcony of the governor's house in Lisbon, his right hand clenched in a fist, planted on his left breast. His French mistress [OOC: Gah, I can never remember her name] stood beside him, smiling. Her beauty was manifold, and she would be the icon of the new Iberian empire Spain was forging. Above them a flight of twelve Eurofighters, in four groups of three, sped making impressive barrel rolls and other meaningless acrobatics that would impress the people of Portugal. Under them, Phillip could hear his avantguard approaching closer and closer. The king smiled, knowing that foreign news personnel from the United Kingdom, Australia, China, and almost every other major country that mattered would be snapping shots at the display of Spanish military power in the country they had smashed in three days. He had several new toys to spark confusion within the countries of his enemies, and the first were coming at this very moment.

Spain's armour rolled through the wide boulevard of Lisbon, and the first twelve tanks were something that nobody had ever seen before. They were twelve Ocelot prototypes - the new Spanish tank it was hoping would be taken up in France as well; it would be the only way Spain could make up some of the money it was spending by buying so many French products. Hopefully, Spain could sell it throughout Europe, including the Austrians and Swiss. But that was besides the point. He just wanted to scare his opponents with weapons they had never even heard of, even if the Ocelot was still at least two to four months away from reality. Behind them came fleets of Leopard 2Es, carrying Spanish flags, and behind these a parade of armoured cars, followed by close stepping infantry, rifles positioned along their shoulders. Each saluted their king before turning the corner about a kilometer down. Most of the parading ground was closed; everything but that street. Guards had made sure that the rest was absolutely empty, especially of reporters, and so the Spanish army simply made turns around the apple, making it look like a grand land army ready to crush any opponent that dares fight it [OOC: Yes, yes, I stole this from Rommel.]. On the surface, it looked rather impressive, Phillip had to agree.

He bent over and whispered into his wife's ear, "How does it feel to be married to an emperor?"

She smiled, and in her beautiful French accent responded, "The same way it would feel to be one of the most powerful women in the world."

The North Atlantic

Between Longworth's fleet and the French Fourth Fleet, HMS Ambush lay in wait, deep, still, silent, tubes flooded, listening with passive sonar. The large French force, with massive ships, moving, 'with all possible haste' was a tempting target. Ambush released her Spearfish torpedoes with the noisy French still more than sixty kilometres distant, hopeful that the launch wouldn't be heard at that range. The French sped fowards as the torpedoes cruised slowly at first, quietly, from a position afore starboard. As they came closer, the half-dozen torpedoes reached a fightening sixty knots, and their active/passive homing heads took charge, Ambush preparing her 29 knot break for the mid ocean, a not insignificant gap still between her and the enemy ships.

The Channel

The French Second Fleet, now alone in the narrow waters of the Channel, was increasingly encircled by Trafalgar, Swiftsure, and the two diesel-electric Upholders recommissioned by the Tories. Skirting the French fleet between Brittany and the Cape de la Hague, these submarines, supposed to have been retired early until growing tensions brought them back to life, armed their own torpedoes and Harpoon missiles.

Over the Channel, Typhoons, Nimrods, and Super Harriers flew against the threat of French ASuW and other aircraft and vessels, Fighter Command having decided to seek air superiority over the Channel while the French had aircraft and pilots scattered around Europe and Africa.

The Fleet

Fighters continued to launch from Longworth's three carriers as more and more threats appeared, detected by Sampson radar and Merlin MASC. Longworth swore that the French and Spanish hadn't the capacity for all of this to be what it appeared, but any gambles on what was what in this situation would be most dangerous.

The dozen clean Sea Harrier 4 sent against the original French bombers slowed to a conservative cruise speed, continuing to hold their internal Meteors and present a low signature south of the British fleet. Behind, the larger numbers of more heavily armed planes, also from Godfrey Grâce à Dieu and Alfred the Great, were indeed swung about to face the ghost bombers coming from France and Northern Spain. The rest of the fighter from Good Godfrey and Alfie, as the less than fully feminine carriers were sometimes known, were soon racing out to guard against the Eurofighter-launched missiles that Longworth was almost sure were not what they seemed.

Flight ALARCON, assembling off watched Spanish carriers, attracted the attention of the British, and was addressed through the mouthpiece of those twelve cruising interceptors. The flight's leader, informed by Nimrod, requested permission to intercept the three-times larger force. It was granted, though this meant ceasing to wait for the French Lancasters over southern Spain to make their move, and the supersonic low-signature Harriers began to peel off and sweep down towards the Rafales, glad to have capable look-down shoot-down radar sets related to Blue Vixen and Captor. Though the flight had forty-eight BAe Meteor long-range missiles, their only dedicated close-range armament was a single 27mm Mauser cannon a piece, and so once their own missiles were away the Fleet Air Arm fighters would have a challenge in trying to chase-down extremely low-flying cruise missiles with their guns if the Spanish had managed to launch them before incoming Meteor caused disruption.

Over the main fleet, as the last of its two carriers' fighters ran off to face the fictional threats, there was no calm before the missilestorm. Merlin MASC helicopters were more distant than some machines: old Sea Kings, helicopters on their way out, flew dangerous decoy missions, looking to draw missiles away from the fleet's ships, aboard which new generation infra-red spoofing devices and the Siren radiating decoy system stood by to face various threats.

The sound of jet engines, though, sent a sort of calm through the chopping of rotor blades. Sea Harrier 4 from Lizzy -HMS Queen Elizabeth III- were arriving with guns, Meteors, and ASRAAM in plenty of time to add another layer of defence to the fleet that England expected to be the world's safest.

((OOC: And I leave sooner than expected, so as to be in time to get some cod and chips ;)))

SSKN Epee

"I have surface ships incoming," the sonarman said. "They haven't found us yet, but it's only a matter of time." The captain nodded. "Officer of the deck, make your depth fifty metres. Electronics, it the sattelite overhead again?"

"It's geosynchronous, sir. It's always overhead. I'm printing up the latest pictures now." The printer started to spew images, showing pockmarked and blasted terrain. The captain held the old pictures up against the new and saw that most of the SAM launchers were down, as was the airfield and the docks. The artillery, protected as it was, mostly survived intact.

Time to change that. He listed out the targets that hadn't been hit on his pad, working quickly before handing it to the tac officer.

"Fire when ready." The tubes vomited missiles again, sending another score straight for the rock.

"Officer of the deck, make your depth 600 metres. Rig for silent running and set a course for open sea. Let's see if we can shake the Dons, people."

Island Fleet, submarines

The Island fleet included two converted Mjolnir class SSBNs. They had been extensively rebuilt following the end of the Cold War ((did that happen in AMW?)) to house guided missiles rather than nuclear warheads and redesignated SSGN Thunderer class. Both were now cruising towards a point off the coast of Malta. Their engines ran at a stately 20 knots, the generally accepted 'silent' speed of Australasian submarines. They were joined by one of the three SSKNs that guarded the Island Fleet proper, which ran with them. They were roughly 600 metres below the waves. Each man of the sonar division had his ears glued to the earphones, listening for the sound of enemy submarines or corvettes.

Agostinho Balshor, one of the Brazilian officers of the Australasian Fleet, looked at his target photographs. The city of Toulon was a major port, one of the big three French naval sites. ((If it's not, well... oops? I'm going off of the Napoleonic wars, which was the last time France had major naval forces that required major naval ports IIRC))

The dockyards were large and impressive, and the area's defenses against just such an attack were no doubt fairly strong. On the other hand, the civilian section of town was likely less defended. Local government buildings, infrastructure and power plants were valid targets as well. The idea was to give the impression that France's navy was ineffectual, its leaders unable to protect the citizenry. It was propaganda by action, the only kind that the psychologists in Raleigh thought could break the stranglehold that the French government had in the minds of its people.

Off the coast of Lisbon, 500 km west of the coast
((Interestingly enough, Lisbon was always a planned target. I'm not doing it just 'cause your king is there, although that's a nice benefit.))

The third and last of the Thunderer class, SSGN Zeus also planned an attack. She floated some fifty metres below the surface, as her tac officer meticulously inserted targetting information into the computer. Hastily constructed military barracks, the docks appropriated by the Spanish Navy and three power plants that supplied the city and surrounding countryside with electricity were targets of the attack, as was the Lisbon airfield and any other landing strips that now housed the aircraft of Spain.

The Thunderer class carried 130 Aborigine cruise missiles, far more than an SSKN such as the one that attacked Gibraltar only hours ago. Although the waters near the Rock now crawled with corvettes and ASW helecopters, the northern parts of the Spanish and Portuguese coast remained clear. The VLS tubes of the SSGN were already flooded, and had been for some time. Unintentionally, the Epee had duplicated the attacks planned by Australasian commanders in the time between its departure from the Atlantic Fleet and the time of its attack.

Captain Santiago Vivar, one of the very few ex-Argentine naval officers that had chosen to join the Colonial Australasian Navy after his ship was siezed in the Falklands war while at port, commanded the Zeus. He didn't have terribly much to do at the moment, so he contented himself with a sip of coffee and an idle curiosity about dinner.

"Target information inputted," sang out the man at tac. "Firing solutions on ground targets Beta One thorugh Twenty five are in."

"You may fire when ready."

If one were to watch from the surface as a hapless seagull did a few seconds later, one would see first a small bubbling, then a flash as the solid fuel boosters exploded to life. An instant later, there was a titanic explosion of water as 130 Aborigine cruise missiles broke the surface. Another instant later when the missiles reached apogee, their wings popped into position and the jets took over. The missiles were programmed to cruise just above sealevel, to come in low before either slamming into onshore targets or bouncing up to hit others further inland. It would take them roughly forty minutes to reach their destination. Once again, the missiles would fall. This time, though, it was not on a dug in enemy, but the pageantry of the Spanish as they showed off their military might. It would be a grand demonstration, but not one of Spanish resiliance. Rather, it would be a demonstration of the fury of Australasia at war.

((Cheesy enough for you?))

Meanwhile, a convoy of supply and Naval Ships- including a Kraken-class Super Dreadnaught (The IRNS Plesiosaur) and a brace of Submarines is sailing into Goa, bringing more supplies to the beleagured Colony...

Northern Benin

The French will find, much to their chagrin, that, while they do have quite a time chasing the less well-organized and less well-educated militia levvies across the landscape, the better militiamen still manage to slip through French fingers. They will find, no doubt, that it is less than easy to patrol for tiny groups of Beninese, usually armed with only an AKM or SKS and a few clips of ammunition, from the air. Excellent militiamen even know how to avoid French infra-red detection equipment, and throw themselves behind solid ground cover or in water whenever a jet engine or turboshaft is heard in the distance.

But as the French position solidifies, and the less-proffessional militiamen take heavy losses, attacks on supply columns occur at a steadily decreasing rate. Attacks that do occur, though, are much better planned, and French auxiliaries find themselves more than once raked by PKM fire. Gas trucks are given special attention, and more than one RPG is loosed against those fireballs waiting to happen. And if one thing is for sure, the average Beninese villager, usually carrying not much more than a rifle and a few clips, can outrun a much more heavily-laden Frenchmen. Still, the militia levvies come out less and less, and wait for the French to move the bulk of their forces elsewhere before resuming attacks.

Porto Novo, Benin

The bombardment does little to dampen the defenders' resolve, in truth, because the only regulars in Benin at this stage are suicidal to begin with. Many Beninese regulars are killed by the artillery and napalm, but if it does one thing, it makes streets much less navigable for light vehicles. Some units offer token resistance to French tanks and heavy APCs, keeping them more or less occupied with RPGs, machine gun fire, and the occasional Milan, but most of the survivors, few in number but as angry and determined as ever, wait until infantry line the streets before opening-up with PKMs from the piles of wreckage.

There isn't much in the way of a Beninese line in the capital, as the French will find out, and pockets of resistance turn up across the cityscape. The invaders do prevail, but are made to pay dearly, and every Beninese soldier knows that the longer Porto Novo holds our, the longer the rest of ECOWAS will have to prepare. Every French casualty is needed, and for the suicidal Beninese army in the capital, cut-off to begin with, recklessness and courage are the order of the day.

Beninese civilians, watching their city being bombed by the already-hated French, don't have much to say for Versailles' attempts to indoctrinate them. The French would have done best to leave small Benin, and its infant democracy, alone, if it were truly concerned with the lives of Beninese citizens. The idea of becoming a French subject has no appeal whatsoever to the vast majority of those forced out of their homes by Versailles' efforts.

On the Mono River, Togo

More often than not, the French find that the surviving ECOMOG positions don't open-up until the French infantry is right on top of them, being very well camoflauged. Korean mercenaries will doubtless grow to hate ECOMOG's methods of fighting as Kalashnikovs, PKMs, and even the occasional light AAA gun spray fire at manouvering infantry from camoflauged positions. These, however, are soon overrun, and the French are left to advance west. The Togolese militia, the French will find, act in a fashion largely similar to the Beninese militias. Most levvies, in their inexperience, mount suicidal frontal attacks against the invaders, very costly and probably having little effect on the intended targets. But the best militiamen, and the most dangerous, let the French heavy units pass by, waiting instead for their logistical equipment, and mount a few hit-and-run raids on troop and fuel convoys, even if the invasion of Togo hasn't been going on for all that long.

Togo Mountains

As the French approach the most formidable natural obstacle to their operations against West Africa, it should become clear that it won't be as straightforward a manouver as the advance through Benin and across the Mono river. There are 7,000 Togolese regular army troops spread-out in company-sized units across the landscape, sitting in heavily camoflauged foxholes and slit trenches, and they wait for the French infantry to try and clear them out. Carpet bombing will be less than effective, since the largest concentrations of troops don't much exceed 60 or so, as will an armored thrust. The Togolese purpose is, after all, not so much to stop the French as it is to inflict casualties.

Kevlar-plated mercenaries will probably find their armor less than helpful as the 7.62mm rounds used by the Togolese regulars rip straight through it without so much as a second thought. Armor will make the going even tougher when Togolese light AAA is turned on the French infantry, forced to attack the defenders in positions more often than not inaccessible to vehicles. Some army Scorpions also turn up, using their high mobility and low ground pressure to put themselves where Leclercs and AMX-10s cannot go, and while they don't stand much chance of survival in the long term, they do cause a fair few problems.

The French also first face ECOMOG artillery while operating in the Togo Mountains. Two batteries of Ghanaian L118s are on hand to hit the French as they negotiate the terrain, and hopefully cause some casualties before they are located and surely subjected to withering counterbattery fire. Mortars, though, do most of the Togolese Army's bidding as far as artillery support goes. A few L16 81mm mortars are used against the advancing mercenaries, lobbing rounds onto the invaders with less than perfect accuracy. Still, the mortar teams rarely stick around to be destroyed, and French efforts at finding them are usually frustrated by good camoflauge and quick changes of position.

Ghanaian Air Force MB.326Ks show up over, or rather within, the Togo Mountains as well. Flying between elevated land, the seven attack-trainers hope to avoid French airborne radars for long enough to deliver their ordnance. And armed with a pair of 30mm cannon, plus over 1,500kg of cluster bombs, they have the capacity to do quite a bit of damage.

Northwestern Mali

French Hueys do claim the lives of a few Tuareg troops, caught out in the open or chased by multiple helicopters, but they aren't idiots and don't try to flee from a 100mph-plus helicopter on a mabye 20mph camel. Those that do find themselves being chased-down try to lead their pursuers towards SAM traps, set-up in advance by other Tuareg with experience fighting the French and Roycelandians in Algeria, and here the Huey's age and rather basic design doubtless prove deadly to crews who don't anticipate such tricks in advance. But otherwise, well-acquainted with French tactics from fighting in Algeria, they don't make themselves targets and are nowhere to be found before too long.

Another four L-39ZAs sortie out from Kidal, armed with cluster bombs and GSh-23 cannon pods, and fly in to attack the advancing Algerian monarchists at low level. Another two aircraft, flying slightly higher and armed with two R-60 (AA-8) AAMs each, head straight towards Tessalit in an effort to draw the Mirages out and away from the ground attack flight.

Eight Malian AML-90s, reinforced by another two, the survivors from an earlier attack, come out of the desert towards the rear of the French force, hoping to catch the largest concentration of light vehicles and the smallest concentration of tanks unawares. Using their superior speed to stay out of gun and TOW range until ready, the AML-90s make their attack close to nightfall, and fire 90mm shells into the concentration of French vehicles before retreating.

((Edited since no helecopter can fly from Sudan to ECOWAS, like I had written before. Any leftovers from before are errors.))

Cote d'Ivoire, Boukale airstrip, Globetrotter 2

Landing a C-130 like the ones which equipped Globetrotter squadron was an easy trick, even on the small airstrips of Africa. The computer did almost all of the work, all the pilot had to do was follow a set of instructions on the boards.

Master Sergeant Chris Daigre was, consequentially, bored out of his mind. He'd won six consecutive games of hearts with the loadmaster and the specialists during the flight as the plane maneuvered itself on its way from Fort Wendselybury in _ to Boukale, Cote d'Ivoire. As the C-130 rolled to a stop behind five others that made up over half the Australasian C-130 fleet, Daigre yawned.

"Opening rear doors now," he called back. "Extending ramp!" The loadmaster's gravelly voice barked orders to the two specialists as they backed three Centurion tanks out of the back of the aircraft.

Globetrotter 1

Brigadier Sir Edwin Morrell, an old man with grey hair and sagging jowls on a lean, even dessicated frame, stepped out of the rear of the C-130. He wore the duty undress of an armoured brigade commander, beret on his head and Order of the Baton and Rifle star pinned to his chest. Following him was a single Leopard 1 tank and twenty-eight men, advisors to the nations of the ECOWAS.

Sir Edwin scuffed the rough ground at his feet and saw as the six Skymaster transport helicopters that had followed them from an Amphibious Assault Ship off the coast were arriving, followed by fifteen AV-7 Helicopter gunships and a pair of AS-12s. While every other piece of military hardware meant for combat in Africa was to be distributed to African soldiers, the AV-7s and their ammunition would remain Australasian manned and led, co-operating with the militia leaders to hit heavier targets that the militias lacked the firepower to destroy.

He sighed, feeling a twinge in his right leg where the shrapnel had entered when he'd last seen combat thirty-two years ago. He had a scar, but no limp or terribly impaired mobility. Indeed, for a man of sixty-seven years he moved quickly, had good eyesight and a keen mind. And now that mind was back at war.

"Clear the runway," he shouted over the rotors of the approaching helicopters. The men scurried to obey as the last C-130 was unloaded. The big planes were taking off again, bound for Fort Wendselybury to pick up the next round of supplies. They'd make nearly two dozen more trips like this, bringing in tanks and supplies enough to hopefully turn the war around. The tanks that had been delivered clanked over to join their fellows, the ones that had already landed. Supply pallets were being attached to the Skymasters for transport to the ECOWAS nations.

That one, the one flanked by gunships was his ride. It carried no pallet, just men. But these men were as valuable as any tank or sack of guns. They were the trainers, the men who would turn militiamen into capable tankers. And that was why they were getting an escort. The two AS-12s had been refuelled and were ready to take off for the next leg of their journey. Sir Edwin climbed aboard the transport as its rotor revved up. He slammed the door shut as the last man scurried aboard, and the helicopter rose smoothly to the air. He was off to war.

((Where should he go? The Togo Mountains? Where would the ECOWAS leaders want him?))

((Youll have a tough time getting into W. Africa, as REA is quite distant. If I may ask, could I have a chance to respond before too much more goes up, its daunting as it is. Sorry for the OOC intrusion.))

((Rewritten))

ALARCON Flight
Flight commander Colonel Alvarez looked closely at the screen infront of him. Their passive radar was on to avoid giving the enemy additional hints towards their presence. His wingman was just where he should be, to his right, and Alvarez felt safe. This was shattered by the intrusion of missiles slamming in front and above him, and he swore lightly. They were long range missiles, obvious simply because of the range they were fired at, and the fact that the enemy had to turn on their radars to fire them. Clicking the radio he turned to warn the rest of his flight, "Missiles inbound, I count fourty plus. Begin evasive manuevers." He swore to himself again when he noticed just how close he was to launch and then he went back to the radio and clicked, "Turn on your radars. Evade and fire. Fire at maximum distance." They were going to fire at around 135kms, not 100kms, but that was fine since the missile they were firing had a range of at least 250kms.

The long range missiles would come from above, but they had the problem that most of their rocket fuel was used during initial acceleration and flight, so they tended to glide towards their targets thereafter. They were great for downing unmanueverable bombers and electronics aircraft, but not so great when engaging enemy fighter aircraft. Alarcon broke apart and began to accelerate and gain a bit of altitude, although nothing conventional yet, and then banked hard. The majority of the missiles would attempt to manuever, expending the last of their fuels, and then would crash into the ocean. Alvarez knew casualties would be light, and it would take perhaps ten seconds to reorganize the entire flight, but for each lost aircraft he would lose two anti-shipping missiles and two sidewinders. In the end, he would lost six of each, leaving thirty-three aircraft in the flight. "Shit!"

"Reorganize on the double!" The Rafales came back in and Alvarez gave the inevitable order at 135kms, "Fire at will!" The missiles free fell and then boomed towards their mapped targets. With that Alvarez ordered, "Gain altitude and prepare for a dogfight." For that, he put his luck on the fact that he still had two sidewinders to dipose of.

((Im so sorry, but we all have IRL things, and my saturday was devoted to such affairs. I promise a massive and comprehensive post by tommorrow morning, and thank everyone for their patience. We can use to the time to contemplate our war plans OOC notre maisons. Again, a full response to this tommorrow, by Sunday 11:00 am in California Ill respond. Gracias por su co-operacion!))

(OOC: I still RP Russian forces in Nigeria, and would come in to help, but it's up to Wingert if he wants to get involved or not.)

((Tu tienes espanol bueno, senor.

Apologies for the lack of accents. It's fine, not all of us are on Summer Break like I am... I kind of wish I had a job though....))

((OOC- Thank you all for your patience and respect, I had a difficult couple days, and I know and hope you all can please empathize. I am going to wake up especially early tommorrow morn to finish my legthy response post over several cups of espresso, merci beaucoup.

OOC: It's no biggie. Have a nice (or at least passable) morning.

((Thank you all gentlemen for your patience. It is an exquisite pleasure to be back. Now, without future ado…))

The Channel

The French Second Fleet maintained its position, supporting the Admiralty Headquarters and Naval Yards at Cherbourg and preventing any British landings on the Channel Islands.

The ODSE, French RAF, maintained strength in the north, and several wings of Rafale’s and Mirage’s were stationed throughout the north of France, with wings again defending Paris and Versailles. It was true that the ODSE contained many Mirage-2000’s, and even F-1’s in operation. The Ordu du Saint Esprit, a knighthood in France, during the Restoration had been expanded to its present point, some fourteen wings of aircraft, equally divided now between Mirage-2000’s and older models and the newer Rafale’s. All new craft coming off the lines were indeed Rafale’s, and the ODSE downgraded the Mirage’s to increasing service in Algeria and the African Theatre. Such strength was due to Louis-Auguste’s fear the English would try and bomb France, and his desire to return any attack twice as voraciously. Or the fear that the ghastly Anglo’s would actually attempt a cross-Channel invasion! Two of His Majesty’s now four wings of Lancaster II bombers were based in Reims and Orleans respectively, well within the secure buffer of the French Anti-Aircraft defense network, in case Walmington attempted to create a total war environment by either bombing or invading France.

Cherbourg and the Channel Islands were vital to French security interests, and any move against the French Second Fleet would find a land based defense of jets, with one full wing, the 7th Knights Errant Wing, freshly constituted by veteran pilots in upgraded Dassault Rafale’s and squadrons of Mirage’s in support. Pressingly, the yards at Cherbourg were constructing one Cherbourg class battleship, still two months from completion, and several Marseilles class light cruisers which were just being finished off. Walmington would not surprise the heart of the French Fleet, even if much of its mobile power was in the Atlantic.

Only an expanded wing of Rafale’s and several squadrons of Lancasters and Mirage’s fought in the Atlantic, after all. The French were ready to give the British a fight, anywhere they looked for one.

The Bay of Biscay, French Fourth Fleet

The Walmingtonian submarine, lying in wait and secrecy as the British were wont to do, blew a support tanker straight out of the water, when it landed after two direct hits it belched smoke and flame for a few minutes while sailors frantically jumped off. It then sank unceremoniously. This was followed by a crippling hit on a Defender class corvette, which lost all 44 hands in about 3 seconds. That hit, however, likely save the Ville de Paris from an unlucky surprise.

The submarine would of course then face a fun race, as two Nantes class submarines protecting the fleet swooped in on it, in a foul stroke not detecting the same sort of sneak attack that the French had thwarted further south in the Atlantic. And though the fleet was cruising along at breakneck speed, they managed to get four anti-submarine helicopters airborne, which wasted no time buzzing to their target.

Yet sail south the Forth Fleet did, and as it too neared Cordova assumed lines of battle. Rafale’s were brought on deck on the Ville de Paris.

And now a new powerful fleet appeared in the theatre’s north.

French Strategic Bombing Force, high over the Atlantic

The Spanish strike seemed to grab the British eyes, its attack against the real French bombing force pulled back. Consequently, believing that they would not be afforded another chance such as this, the Lancaster II bombers entered into their range, supported by their Mirage escorts. And though they now made themselves vulnerable by attacking, it was worth it know they could deploy their weapons and return to France.

Deploy they did. Four Exocet II’s dropped down from each bomber, the special airborne missile heavier and having a longer range than the standard issue rocket. The missiles dropped down, then zipped away as their thrusters fired. As per the Admiral’s request, French Satellite Command only chose two enemies in the Allied Atlantic fleet, which meant over half a hundred missiles would now zip at near supersonic speeds towards two targets: the British carrier Godfrey Grace a Dieu and the Australasian carrier Stormhawk.
The bombers immediately, following the strike, turned about at full speed towards temporary lodging in Spanish Cordova. Their Mirage-2000 escort lingered behind them, ready and able to intercept any incoming stroke against the Lancaster-II’s.

Submarines…below the First Fleet

RN-12, the squad leader of the Royal Navy submarine detachment protecting the fleet, had little time to celebrate the report of the Australasian submersible Cheval de Frise’s demise. Locked as it was in a deadly chase with the enemy’s point ship, the Flamberge.

::Queue Hunt for the Red October theme music.::

The skipper of RN-12, le Chevalier Georges de Poix, was a rabid monarchist, and he gripped the railing in his open white uniform and adjusted his tricorner hat, his only adornment the cordon bleu of theOrdu de Saint-Louis. Hearing the sonar man call out two torpedoes incoming, arming as they went, he ordered the sub into evasive action, and the bridge slanted at an awful rate. The engines roared as de Poix gave the order to launch countermeasures and come about at a furious rate. One torpedo went through the fooling cloud and disappeared, loosing its target. The other lost it for a moment, but had soon reacquired RN-12. However, not before RN-12 launched a full spread of torpedoes (4), with safeties removed, at near point blank range at the Flamberge. It did reacquire, but to de Poix’s credit the sub launched to the surface in his last amazing maneuver.

Subsequently, about a dozen men were saved when the Australasian torpedo finally drove home true. De Poix was not among them.

But his courage had not gone unrewarded, the Australasians were scattered, and those that did not flee hastily became the subject on helicopter missile attacks.

The Atlantic, French First Fleet

The commander of the First Fleet, le Marechal de Gras du Mont, watched proudly as Admiral Cervera in sync with Spanish mainland authorities launched an illusive screening followed by an effective attack.

He shook violently at the news of RN-12’s demise, and his forced himself to clear his head as his bridge on the Charles X swarmed with activity and he considered the next step of this bewildering naval battle.

The First Fleet , scrambled after the submarine assault, quickly reformed into lines of battle, and were again cruising on course with their Spanish brethren, in an excellent defensive maneuver against Anglo-Austro encroachment on the Bourbon states. Their strength would peak with the arrival of the French Fourth Fleet, at which time du Mont planned to launch a huge aerial assault.

Until that time, however, the First Fleet kept its aerial umbrella of Rafale’s over their Most Christian and Catholic Majesty’s fleets.

They would not remain silent, however. Data from the first Exocet missile strike had been compiled and processed in the Command and Control of the Charles X with ranges calculated and depths charted. A second wave consequently was prepared for fire, with safeties removed…this would inevitably lead to a few blowing up in flight, but would guarantee most missiles that struck would strike true.

So it was that the French First Fleet, again in alignment of battle, launched some fifty-two Exocet Anti-ship missiles, with targets much less concentrated than the Bomber strike but sticking to the Australasian ships, which le Marechal wished to drive out of battle, and so force the English to stand alone or retire the Spanish coast and South Atlantic. It was evening, on what historians would come to term the Battle of the 12th of June, when the missiles leapt out of all the French ships, all vessels having the weapons deploying some in the attack, many coming from the Marseilles class cruisers, in fiery spouts before forming trails of their own and zooming off towards the Australasian force. The attack came only three-quarters of an hour after the bombing strike, and was only shortly after the Spanish maneuvers.

Porto Novo, Benin

It was a glorious battle for the Royal Vanguard Legion divisions, which had been trained for just such an assault. French forces took almost a hundred fatalities in the seizure of the tiny African lot of real estate’s capital, but the sound victory after the lightning thrust through Benin was utterly important: both to dishearten the ECOWAS alliance, and to serve French propaganda efforts. Likely the casualties, the highest in any French action in the war so far, could have been avoided had the French conducted a prolonged siege…but the King’s brother knew that West Africa had to be taken without delay, and so he paid the price, ninety two dead.

Ironically, the only hits scored against French armored forces came in the north, when two AMX-10’s and a Leclerc battle-tank were ambushed while scouting through the land. Normally, support would have prevented the destruction, but the attack came in an alarming new form, suicide bombers jumped down from the trees onto the French vehicles, by the dozens, and set themselves off. News of the attack was quickly silenced as soon as le Duc de Normandie heard of it, however. He had no wish for either his brother or the War Ministry to doubt his abilities. If continued, it would simply provide grounds for more stringent occupation.

The ‘rebels’, as all African opponents of a reconstituted French West Africa were labeled, fought viciously and to the death. This suited the le Duc de Normandie, who used the opportunity to basically trap and kill large parts of what would have been opposition to His Most Christian Majesty’s new regime. French propaganda showed le Duc de Normandie ride into Porto Novo on his tank, proud and resplendent in his magnificent brocaded uniform of red, silver, and gold, surmounted by a white plumed tricorner hat, as columns of smoke from the battle still burned behind him.

But Porto Novo had fallen, a key moment. The Bourbon flag flew high over the broken town as the harbor was cleared for incoming shipping. A symbolic move, the first ship in the harbor was a Roycelandian freighter, hauling oil and material to support Normandie. The French forces in Africa were indeed in great measure supported by a contract with the Roycelandian Africa Company, and Louis-Auguste wished to show relations were still top notch.

Of course, the Roik freighter was followed by dozens of French supply ships, who now deployed the auxiliaries once on Palawan, at least some 8,000, into Porto Novo.

The streets were cleared of rubble and power and water were soon restored, refugees returned to their homes as French civilian support landed in great barges along the docks. No sooner had the last fire gone out than the French began to reshape Porto Novo to become a regional capital of their new West Africa, raising a fortified government building with barracks for the French forces, fortified enclaves for French investors and businessmen, and even a detailed bunker network in time. Immediate work went into enlarging and bettering the airfield into a bustling airport and getting the harbor up to snuff. Neighborhoods would be built by and for the French colonists in their own style, while natives would get Porto Novo working as functional city once again. Ironically, the activity no doubt stimulated Porto Novo’s economy, as the first French aristocratic speculators and colonial officials moved in. Keenly, despite the wish of ECOWAS hardliners, a thriving collaboration soon grew, nourished by ODSL special agents.

The collaboration soon saw a former member of Benin’s government, the former police chief of the south in fact, General Pierre Tomboke, being installed as Benin’s Governor-General, under the new lord of his land, le Duc de Normandie…soon to be titled King Charles XI, King in West Africa. General Tomboke was ruthless, a monarchist, and a sadist to boot. He soon had Benin drinking Kool-Aid and marching in step.

To the chagrin of the ‘rebels’ a pro-French Beninese militia, supplied by the Bourbons, was established, titled simply as the Royal Benin Police. With this rather dastardly move the French undermined ECOWAS resistance far more effectively than with simple military force, as the natives turned collaborators turned in patriots and their location by the dozen. Working largely at night, the French trained and supported militia soon followed remarkable success in the capital with sweeps in the countryside. Those arrested were sentenced by a French Court Martial, under the authority of a Royal Officer, to life imprisonment with hard labor. Thence they were moved, at least for the time being, to Nigeria before the long journey to France and to a post of hard labor in a French factories in Algeria, working for the war effort in Africa they hoped to destroy.

And so the Most Christian King secured Benin.

Benin was now taken, indeed French troops had already penetrated into Togo along the Mono River, having secured it.

Blitta, central Togo, on the banks of the Mono River

The 7th RVL Division soon secured Atakpame, a vital communications point in central Togo, cutting off any ECOWAS support to the south and the capital. This led to Blitta, the key to the center itself, falling to a cunning maneuver as well. The Mono River Valley is relatively secured, with air support plentiful against any insurgent attacks.

Rebel forces will find that having secured the Mono River and Atakpame, thus driving into the very heart of ECOWAS territory, the French are inclined to take the southerly route and leave the mountains be. Le Duc de Normandie gave some seventy troops, many from his best Korean soldiers, to get the center, and with much munitions spent. His bombers wiped aside the center, and his troops secured the flanks in a rapid and brutal movement, taking hits from African resistance due to their hectic pace.

Now he held the good ground, and the bombers were again on stand by.

With the rebels effectively shut away in the mountains, and his position in Togo stabilizing, le Duc de Normandie marches with several of his divisions long the coast, securing emptied West Benin and he goes, and before long, fresh from his march of triumph through Porto Novo, through Grand Popo over the border into Togo. Three RVL divisions secure the center of Togo, and so Lome is isolated from vast parts of its own land. The French salient into Togo hardens into a relatively well controlled area, and as with Benin major routes of communication are secured.

News of Benin’s fall, and the installation of a native regime as opposed to a French occupier, are hoped to speed the decline to Togo’s morale before its inevitable seizure, and the push into Ghana.

Off the West African Coast

The French fleet continued to pound Accra with a continuous rain of Fury V heavy cruise missiles, with Louis-Auguste’s brother intent of breaking the crucial cities morale before he himself was forced to fight their. Satellites guided the missiles homes, and soon even the highways leading into Accra are devastated.

Much as the assault went on Porto Novo, limited strikes against power and strategic facilities, so did the missile strikes against Lome follow. In one night, it was hoped that a dozen cruise missiles will have effectively taken out Lome’s key systems, in a repeat of the nearly precise maneuvers in Benin.

But as for Accra, the attack never stopped, for two days now the missiles were as regular and terrifying as earthquakes raking the Rim of Fire.

Intruding aircraft, identified as Austalasians, meet a fair amount of AA missile fire from the fleet, and would have difficulties aplenty making their moves with Mirages sweeping by with their Magic missiles. They might get insurgents in, but would have trouble leaving themselves.

Cote d’Ivoire, San Pedro

As Benin fell and the French continued their war in the eastern sections of West Africa General de Huerin ordered his three divisions of RVL to break out, and under intense support from Zulu attack helicopters the French troops storms across the Sassandra River. Losses have been light and fighting casual thus far on the ‘Western Front’ against the ‘rebels’, but with Porto Novo taken le Duc de Normandie wishes to attack with more vigor overall.

French Marines, 6,000 strong and supported by missiles from offshore support vessels, enters the city of Sassandra itself. Guiglo falls to a French division, as Soubre to the south to another. The central division secures the center. Artillery is used plentifully, and site are shelled heavily, a French trademark, before advances are made. Helicopters fly heavy support, and Mirage Fighters out of Nigeria arrive for air sweeps against enemy fields and crafts. Particularly heavy in the French western forces are mobile rocket artillery, which fires in waves as the French make their moves.

The pressure is light compared to the east, but the French are nevertheless making a solid show of war on two of ECOWAS’s principle fronts.

And they were plowing on, especially hearkening to the news trickling from the north, that Louis I entered the war in force in Mali, and a detachment from the Royal Dauphin Corps with Algeria support had invaded Niger…

Kidal, Mali

Algerian Forces stormed past dead ‘rebel’ forces, and their own comrades as well, as they followed the Algerian commander as he followed the invasion in Northern Mali through the important city of Kidal. It was a shaken city, it had weathered a full strike from two French Lancaster Bomber squadrons based in Fte. Ste. Joan, Algeria. It was shaken, but it was taken.

It began when the Algerian “Royal Volunteer” Regiments had taken Tessalit after heavy fighting, and General Jules marched south to Kidal, where he was surprised by a vigorous and challenging Malian resistance, mainly in organized mechanized elements, as he marched slowly south, methodically and safely, towards Kidal.

This initially caused an actual slowing of the Algeria offensive, and six older Algerian French hand me down LeClerc tanks were solidly hit with the TOW missiles, and exploded brightly as a consequence.

General Jules then called in a heavy air strike, which came in the form of two French Strategic Bomber squadrons from Algeria. Flying high above the battle, and protected by a squad of Mirages themselves, they struck down the Malian counter-offensive with light LGB’s dropped with deadly laser guided accuracy from on high. Following that, they commenced to use the rest of their munitions on Kidal, which soon was wrenched apart after no less than four consecutive bombing runs, all targets of value and many surrounding areas leveled by heavier air to ground weapons.

No sooner had the bombers turned round did a second Algeria Royal Army Corps, led by General Philippe Abdul cross over and enter into Tessalit, somewhat smaller than General Jules’ forces at 40,000 troops. They were followed by the much heralded element of the Royal Dauphin Corps…ten-thousand crack French troops and 200 Quintonnian built M-1 Abrams battle-tanks.

For Louis I, comfortable with his French reinforcements, had released a greater share of his army to fight alongside his lord in Versailles.

So Kindal fell in a hurricane of an offensive. General Jules and the First Algerian Corps secured it. Once secure, advanced elements of Jules’ forces, moving with the rapid Dauphin Corps’s expeditionary force, wasted no time in striking south, their intent clearly to invade Niger. The Second Algerian Corps did not go south, but struck west, moving into the heart of Mali and preventing and flanking maneuver against the now mind numbingly complicated and large Bourbon offensive. General Philippe was expected to conquer Bourem, before taking legendary Timbuktu itself.

Regardless of the massive success, however, the harsh resistance meant the Algerians lost more than their French brethren. Over 400 Algerian soldiers had died so far in the Northern Offensive against ECOWAS. Yet this number was now expected to stabilize. Algerian Royal Air Force Mirages now landed in Kindal, which became the Headquarters of the northern Bourbon thrust. Huey’s were now supported by Zulu attack helicopter elements, earmarked for the southern campaign but reassigned to the north.

And so it was the King Louis-Auguste of France’s mighty war plan came together: Mali would be absorbed into the Kingdom of Algeria as Louis I’s prize for helping in the war, while the remaining West African nations would come directly under French rule, as reconstituted French West Africa under the King’s brother, le Duc de Normandie.

Versailles

His Most Christian Majesty bathed in the glow of a Court brimming over with joy, where the light of his presence was reflected by diamonds, and a race of royalty and aristocracy not seen in centuries flourished with powdered faces and wigs, and where the brilliance of his power shined off their silk attire.

Louis-Auguste had perhaps even surpassed Louis XX in exploits now, as information from the African Campaign came in. France was mighty again, and Africa would become her little child. The Restoration would be secured, if only God would continue to defend the right!

France itself brimmed over with joy, as propaganda played on and Louis-Auguste was made to shine as a Bourbon sun, as the Bourbons themselves took their place in history as the most powerful House ever to exist in Western European History. In truth very little propaganda was needed, for it seemed as if life in France had become a sort of fairy tale with kings and queens, valiant knights and wicked dragons, good churchmen and evil bandits, fairy trees and country fairs, kind lords and grateful peasants. The dream that had died when industrialization began was awakened again, and the Holy League incarnated Europe’s rejection of modernity and a return to the purer ages of life. A fairy tale.

Retiring from a soiree held by the Queen, both Louis-Auguste and Jillesepone retired to their magnificent chambers in le Grand Chateau. There they would talk with Philip VII their brother in law, Tsar Wingert their father in law, and Louis I their nephew on conference calls. The monarchs discussed their victories and struggles, shared their love for one another, and planned anew for the morrow.

Outside their doors, courtiers and aristocrats squealed in excitement, dizzied at the heights to which the Holy League and its Restorationist Government’s had achieved. Truly, God was with them.

(OCC: NG, before I post, I'd just like to point out that you're about to be relieved of Mayotte and pretty much every one of France's small island possessions in the Indian Ocean.)

((I noticed, sorry for not saying so but with with the changes in Ministries IC that was regarded as 'done with' in favor of a massive effort in Africa. Im so busy I dont have time to post much about them IC, please consider them empty and abandoned...even though most of value, I think nearly all, were given to Royce. The only exception is New Caledonia, which if someone wants to inavde can do at the same time IC, but dont expect a response until i have time to breathe! ::Breath, cough, cough::

Realizing that Chinese deployment in Depkazia meant that Russian entrance into the great conflagration that was World War Three was no unavoidable, Russian forces dispatch most naval assets to assist the French and Spanish.

Additionally,ten thousand of Russian peace keeping forces in Nigeria are placed under the command of the French general, along with 2,000 of Mubarrak's elite Black Mamba troops. In terms of aerial assets, ten Mig-39 air superiority fighters, ten multirole Mig-25s, and five Tu-120M strategic bombers are at France's disposal.

(OOC: Wingert's still fairly busy, and this is an extremely pressing matter, so I took a liberty. If he wishes to change it he can.)

Porto Novo, Benin

It does not surprise many West Africans and their heads of state that the capital city of tiny Benin, defended by all of 2,000 regular soldiers without air, armor or artillery support, fell to the overwhelmingly more numerous French, with their heavy artillery and constant bombing raids. So ECOWAS, expecting to lose Togo and Benin within the first few days of a war with French forces coming out of Algeria, is not particularly disheartened. The bulk of ECOMOG's ground forces are, after all, spread-out in eastern Ghana, behind the Togo Mountains which the French haven't yet attacked in force.

For the Oueme militiamen, word of suicide bombers attacking French armor comes as a complete shock, since all but the most ridiculous dismiss such tactics offhand as thoroughly counterproductive. Perhaps to the relief of French front-line troops, suicide bombings do not happen again, and all resources are concetrated on hit-and-run attacks against logistics columns and heavy French infantry. It does not make sense to throw lives away fighting tanks and APCs when tankers and ammunition transporters can be done-in quite easily with any one of a thousand RPG-7s circulating amongst Beninese militiamen in Oueme prefecture.

In the capital itself, the French might find their reconstruction efforts a bit less than easy. After their heavy bombardment, preceeded by cruise missile strikes, there isn't much left standing, and electrical and water infrastructure is a complete ruin. French engineers shouldn't expect to turn Porto Novo back even to its pre-invasion state after a few days' labor. A few days is hardly liable to make a dent on the city's demolished state. The Beninese people, most of them angry and bitter about having their city destroyed and their country invaded, are less than cooperative towards their new colonial overlords. While food and water is always welcome, it doesn't help things that it is being distributed by the men who bombed the city into rubble, destroyed Benin's infant democracy, robbed it of independence, and killed the country's bravest military men.

Likewise, the French don't have all that much success in using their new counter-militias to penetrate a network of guerillas several years in the making. Versailles does not turn citizens of a subjugated democracy into willing servants in a matter of days, and for every one French informer, there are ten more Beninese ready to point that man out to the guns of Loyal militia levvies. More often than not, the infant collaborationist militiamen are gunned-down by the much better-prepared and infinitely more popular loyalist levvies, not the other way around as might be reported to Versailles. The Beninese will take more than a few days to be convinced of French good intentions, and far longer than that to become even indifferent to Versailles' re-asserted rule.

The French puppet Tomboke does in Benin and Togo about as much as Vidkun Quisling did in Norway. He is denounced as a traitor by all quarters of society and his rule carries next to no legitimacy outside of the immediate locale of his headquartes. Posters of General Tomboke, depicted as a prostitute taking money from caricatured Louis-Auguste, start to appear as well, no doubt originating in Ghana.

Togo Mountains

It is, in some ways, good that the French have not yet made any serious thrusts into the most formidable natural barrier yet facing the invaders. Togolese Army detachments spend the great bulk of their free time improving their positions, making them more resistant to enemy bombardment and adding camoflauge cover wherever it wasn't before. The 7,000 men now standing between the French and the Ghanaian border prepare to make their stand, and using lessons learned in the Lavragerian war they prepare to do it intelligently.

While the French perception of the average African soldier might suggest otherwise, the Togolese don't plan to rush out and attack the RVL head-on. Perhaps the more inexperienced militia levvies do that, and all the better, since it will lead the invaders to suspect such behavior. But the Togolese regulars, as disciplined and as well-trained as possible, are going to give the French as few chances as possible to press their firepower advantage.

Accra, Ghana

The French don't have it all their way over the Ghanaian capital. While French cruise missile strikes do destroy much of the Ghanaian Air Force's interceptor strength, a handful of F-20Ls, and another pair of F-5Ls, take to the air to cover the Australasian transports. For the first time in the campaign, ECOMOG forces fight the French on somewhat equal terms with Ghana's Tigersharks, carrying South African-made U-Darter AAMs, easily a match for French Magics, on wingtip hardpoints. Doubtless a few hours of hectic dogfighting take place as the Ghanaians struggle to protect their new-found allies, loosing their missiles and then turning their guns on the Mirages. They also hope to negate the French ships' long-range SAM cover by engaging the Mirages close-in.

Accra's defenses can still boast several dozen Oerlikon 35mm dual AA cannon, controlled by Fledermaus radars, and these do their part to take the bite out of French operations over the city.

Sassandra, Cote D'Ivoire

The small ECOMOG scouting detachment in Sassandra pulls-out well ahead of the French arrival, but not before reporting French numbers back to Malinke's headquarters. Two battalions of Guineans, some 800 troops with Milan and SA-14 missiles, traveling under heavy camoflauge like the Viet Minh who drove France out of Southeast Asia, arrive near the town not long afterwords, and begin to set-up ambushes.

Southwestern Cote D'Ivoire

French troops do indeed make significant gains, since Malinke's army is still nearer the capital, but things hardly go all their way. The French also begin to encounter Cote D'Ivoire's veritable circus of rebel groups, and are ambushed by them more than once. Versailles might have done well to make friends with these groups, Malinke being in the country more or less in order to destroy them, but the French practice of bombarding cities, even when defended by relatively small ECOMOG units, wins them no allies as armed men from all sides begin to count their relatives amongst the civilian dead.

Malinke's force is not silent for long, though. A quartet of Ghanaian MB.339s, armed to the teeth with wingtip U-Darters, FFARs, and BL.755 cluster bombs, show up over a battery of French MRLs from nowhere, having flown extremely low through the terrain in order to avoid French airborne and seaborne radars, and give the RVL a taste of its own medecine.

Also under heavy camoflauge and protected by a number of self-propelled SAM vehicles, an ECOMOG mechanized column sorties out from Malinke's main area of operations around Yamoussoukro. Led by Guinean T-55s and including several Ghanaian Piranha APCs, it can do some damage to the French if used correctly, and like Tumin Kalmakoff's motorized column out of Hia'Itakchi, this unit plans to engage the French and buy time for the tens of thousands of infantrymen that form the bulk of ECOMOG's forces in Cote D'Ivoire.

The RVL also faces the Guineans for the first time in Guiglo, where a battalion of regulars from Guinea itself puts up a fierce resistance against French plans to take the town. Armed with AT-3 missiles and SA-14 SAMs, they take a bite out of the invaders before retreating into the rough terrain north and west of the town, where another two Guinean divisions prepare to meet the hated French in battle.

Northwestern Mali

France's use of heavy bomber squadrons in combatting the small, highly-moblie armored car squadrons comes as another blessing, and the high-flying Lancasters only manage to destroy a handful of the tiny, frantically-manouvering AML-90s below them. If it were infantry or perhaps a larger mechanized contingent, the Malians would be in for a beating, but, spread-out across the desert and moving very fast, the armored cars, contrary to their own expectations, manage to escape north and largely get away with their otherwise suicidal strike on the French column.

L-39ZAs hit the collaborationist Algerians with cluster bombs and FFARs even as they are overrunning Kidal's small airfield, mounting their attacks from low altitude and at high speed to avoid SAM fire.

Mali's own regular army, concentrated in the much more urbanized south of the country and with some 30,000 regular troops at its disposal, prepares to move on the French assault with its own fairly modern armor and more or less effective anti-aircraft capabilities. The Malians plan to give the French an opportunity for conventional battle, an opportunity that will hopefully divert their attention away from less well-prepared Niger.

Mumbai

As news footage of Roycelandian freighters entering demolished Porto Novo reaches the Indian Subcontinent, tempers in Parliament rise considerably. Much anger is directed towards Quinntonia, and Unioners are no longer inclined to hold-back Bedgellen aggression against Goa as long as Emperor Royce is allowed to support France's war effort with impunity. While Roycelandia might claim neutrality, many say, its role in France's ability to conduct its war with West Africa cannot be downplayed. For Roycelandia to be able to claim neutrality, it will have to do much, much better.

Union regular soldiers don't make much more of an appearance on the border with Goa, but thousands are airlifted and shipped to the UAR, ready to strike at REA alongside the African National Pact if Port Royal does not clean up its act.

((LRR, check OOC thread for a reply. And are Guineans Ghanans? Sorry, off base here, might have misinterpreted))

Porto Novo

The city would not be healed in days, it had only been recently occupied. But the refugees returned and were in fact fed and lodged. Only the outer city, and then parts, were shock attacked with artillery and bombs. The French had not intended to level either Proto Novo or soon Lome, in opposition to the increasing bombardment of Accra, but rather just eliminate key targets. The bombardment had again damaged Porto Novo yet a portion of the cities center survived, and refuges set about with French aid shelters, which in time would turn into a good and new city. French engineers set about their plans to rebuild as earlier described with the same vigor they built the fortresses with.

Russian aid was extremely welcome, as it would take stress off the French rear guard forces. Once again, the solidarity of the Holy League was displayed. Tsarist Mig’s would be asked to form an elite task force, their assignment to systematically find and destroy all ECOWAS aerial assets on the ground. The bombers would be assigned to anti-guerilla activity specifically, as were the Russian peacekeepers. The bombers were also equipped with the ability to deploy UGC, French napalm, in heavy quantity against the enemy. Like Porto Novo the Royal Benin Police would take time to grow. Governor-General Pierre Tomboke was an intelligent policeman, and the RBP was to become his ruling apparatus. Trained especially by the two thousand elite Black Mamba troops from Tsarist Nigeria, they were already with royal support taking pressure of Bourbon troops in the rear. After initial setbacks, all Royal Benin Police 'stike teams' were constitued by half Beninese troops and half elite Black Mamba operatives, with the idea to use the trainers less as their students improved.

One in ten now collaborated, maybe, but that one has the power to eliminate the ten, and they are well paid natives. They never moved stupidly, and as a huge boon had the ability to call in French air support on targets. Most of their forces did not even need uniforms, and their efforts especially in the capital ensured that a burgeoning colonial native elite, those who would run things locally for His Most Christian Majesty. Collaboration, on all levels, naturally was centered in the slowly but surely rebuilding capital, but it was spreading to the country as well.

No suicide bombers were seen again, and the report was considered suspect, the attack rather being a product of an organized and heavy and focused anti-vehicle attack. With Russian support, the 7th Division RVL has by and large secured the main points of Northern Benin for Tomboke’s Government. Rail lines had not been attacked, and work began to get a new colonial rail network built on the bones of the old commenced. Guerilla activity no doubt would continue, but it would become increasingly risky for the guerillas to hit easy targets, as they themselves were hunted in an evermore effective and intelligent manner. The whole point of the drive to was dishearten guerillas into simply putting away their guns, knowing that if you worked and behaved you would be treated fine, and go to work with His Most Christian Majesty’s brave old world.

Togo Mountains

Royal Benin Police Intelligence soon reports of the regulars setting up in the mountains, which French air and satellite date finds to be a supportable thesis of operation. French troops to the south, fighting on the line as it cautiously rolls forward, and protected by air support of the new Russian anti-guerilla task force. The Russian task-force bombers alone would raid the mountains, while French and Russian elements simply secured posts to defend sorties out of the hills. They were busy bombers, and it was not long before the guerillas could expect to have a daily UGC raid against enemy camp and support locations, which were off all enemy forces the simplest to identify and commence to attack.

Accra, Ghana

One Mirage-2000 is blown away as the French ODSE detachment encounters a very organized aerial defense and a AAM missile.

Although they manage to inflict some damage on enemy forces, they were an interceptor team and not in force or strength enough to fight a full engagement. So the African pilots could feel proud that even though they were bested by losses, the Australasian forces made it through and the French did not pursue.

In response the French cruise missile attacks on the city are increased, as the War Ministry itself began to believe Africans intended to turn Accra into a fortress, one which the French would have to pay dearly to take. This would ruin le Duc de Normandies hope for a swift victory and swift Reconstitution, and prolong guerilla hopes. So slowly but surely the cruise missile attacks began to wipe out all government structures and all factories or large commercial structures.

Guided by satellite, Fury V after Fury V dropped onto Accran targets, from freeway lanes to rail lines. The airport was to be totally destroyed, and the city was to be targeted surgically in order to slowly but surely make the city impossible to defend or live in on any level without directly targeting civilians per se.

Sassandra, Cote d’Ivoire

French advance scouts stumble upon the hidden forces and are indeed ambushed, with a light vehicle and several light infantry KIA. In turn, the Royal Marines expect resistance when they had not before.

The Guineans are engaged, and acquit themselves admirably. French Marines takes up defensive positions, and advance slowly after the Zulu helicopters from the support fleet had swooped in and showered enemy batteries and troop formations with heavy machine gun, rocket, and missile fire.

The French Royal marines attempted to envelop the Guineans, much like a knight gingerly spearing a barbarian does as passes by to the goal.

Southwestern Cote d’Ivoire

The 3rd Company, 8th Battalion OGF (Order of the Golden Fleece, French mechanized cavalry) were surprised and hit hard by the surprise air raid. 8 valuable MRL’s and twenty some soldiers went up in smoke with the cluster bombs.

But now, using a utility airfield in San Pedro, French Mirage squadrons now operate in direct field support, and use the opportunity to avenge themselves for their earlier loss over Accra. One full squadron, twelve Mirage-2000’s, swoops in and engages the MB .339’s.

Further attacks against French armor, and Guinea’s sudden appearance in the counter-attack, was indeed felt. The T-55’s and supporting armor forced the French to halt in sections, as they would rather hit the enemy with air power before directly engaging them. Zulu’s were called in.

The same was true with Guiglo. Zulu attack helicopters provided swift and accurate attacks against enemy mobile artillery and vehicle, themselves supported now by active Mirage-2000 patrols high above.

As air support increased, French forces continued the advance, slowly following General de Huerin’s drive to the east. The Lancaster-II squadrons were called in to hit the strong Guinean divisions with cluster bombs and UGC en masse, in rolling attacks. Furthermore, le Duc used the bombers in flights and in rolling attacks and Mirage escorted used their serial advantage to pound enemy units vigorously before they were able to engage the French ground forces.

Northwestern Mali

Mirage support eventually caught up to the Malian L-39ZAs and drove them away from the Algerian forces seizing Kidal, yet not before some fifty odd soldiers met their death in the sudden attack. The Malians, like all ECOWAS’s airforces, would soon be in for a surprise as the elite Russian task force began to eliminate their ability to deploy, one air base at a time.

Due to the large First Algerian Corps under General Jules, around 50,000 strong with five battalions of motorized cavalry in support, Kidal did indeed fall, but not before the Malians had got their hits in.

Nevertheless, the First Corps takes up residence in Kidal and turns and with the arrival of Algerian Royal Engineers becomes the operational hub of the Northern Offensive, who quickly repair and expand the airfield and secure the supply lines to the north. General Jules set up his Headquarters there, holding the center while movement and offensive moved all about him.

In the west, General Philippe Abdul and his smaller Second Corps of three mechanized cavalry battalions and 40,000 troops methodically advanced on Bourem, securing the flank as he went. French intelligence clearly notices Mali’s brave attempt to move its army into a position to counter or even cut off the French offensive, and General Philippe is tasked with stopping them. The bombers used in the strike earlier, stationed at Fte. Ste. Joan, are now tasked with the continual task of striking Malian troops wherever Louis-Auguste’s many spy satellite detected they were gathering. Flying at their ceiling with a squadron of Mirage-2000’s out of Kidal in support continuously, the Lancaster-II bombers of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit pressed their edge home as far as possible. Raids into Eastern Mali became regular, with Malian army bases in the threatened zone leveled. The goal was to disorient the Malian Army and soften up its troops, as well as to break down morale, before they were even in a position to strike at Bourbon forces.

It is the Division of the Royal Dauphin Corps on detachment from the Corps in Barcelona supported by mechanized Algerian elements, close helicopter and jet support in the form of Mirage’s out of Fte. Ste. Joan and soon after Kidal followed by a company of Zulu helicopter air cavalry and 200 M-1 Abrams battle-tanks that realizes the War Ministry’s vision: that ECOWAS was to be outfronted and outflanked at every turn to ensure a rapid collapse. As General Philippe Abdul and his Second Corps established themselves and slowly and forcefully moved west to secure the lines and to prepare to defend them against the possibility of Malian pressure from the west General le Marquis de Vaubin struck south. His intention, and that of the War Ministry under its charismatic New Minister le Duc de Broglie was to flank ECOWAS, while the Algerians fought Mali in the west using this picked force to smash through Menaka, and in a classic flanking maneuver drive south-east into
Niger at Abala and then work its way around to seize the capital, Niamey.

This was part and parcel of the French plan, to maintain continuous advances and to slice ECOWAS’s ability to ally and support its neighbors to ribbons.

As things currently stood, ECOWAS was solidly besieged. Through Benin’s example, it is made clear that nativist governments would remain in power, and no mass brutality committed on the population, indeed His Most Christian Majesty had great hopes that same population would soon be busily employed in French interests, and even receiving payment in kind if they chose to co-operate. With the help of Royal Benin Police secret operatives and Ordu de Saint-Louis special agents tribal chiefs and princes are contacted all over West Africa, and sought to collaborate. Although no tribes or groups switched over en masse (even though their princes were promised much by the royalty friendly Holy League), the prospect of immediate gain and future power convinced more than a few bureaucrats and functionaries in the various states of West Africa to defect against ECOWAS, and spy for the French.

Bay of Biscay

When the [figuratively] groundbreaking Spearfish torpedoes from HMS Ambush struck amongst the French Fourth Fleet, they did so at a range of thirty-five kilometres from the Astute Class fleet submarine's original location. During the terminal phase of their assault, the weapons by then operating under autonomous homing, Ambush accelerated to 29 knots and headed out to the Atlantic. By the time that the French were alert and directing submarine and helicopters against her, the British submarine had run at least seven or eight kilometres from a launch point that the French, judging by their reaction, may not even have precisely pinned down, and her captain ordered Ambush down as she reached deeper waters. Judging -slightly on the conservative side- the time that it may take the French to reach his former location, Captain Pike soon indicated a reduction to twenty knots silent speed, and took his submarine down past three hundred metres, seeking a thermal layer under which to hide. Two French ships already under her belt, HMS Ambush intended to fight again another day.

The Channel Islands

The continentals were at it again, and islanders were resigned to another unhappy conflict. Many young men had left to join the king's armed forces, and supplies of both weapons and the essentials of life brought in by helicopters and boats that left with many children aboard. But now, cut-off, many thousands of islanders remained, and, despite the raising of armies and evacuation of a minority, they still were more densely populated than in the days of conflicts passed.

Greenhouses and vegetable patches were coming back in fashion, with local governments taking control of produce from which more could be grown. Home Guard units recruited several thousand people, and the handful of soldiers on the islands manned their crew-served weapons in regular drills.

Everyone hoped that the near-by French fleet would not remain long around the islands, and watched the news, keen to cheer any small victory against the Holy League- coup in Depkazia, resistance in Africa, island seizures in the Indian Ocean, sinkings and shoot-downs in the Atlantic, and so forth. It was still possible to paint a fairly good, moral-boosting picture.

The North Atlantic

The movement of French bombers from over Cordova was not unexpected, and was the price paid for granting the twelve southerly-posted Sea Harrier 4 permission to engage Spanish Rafales. By the time that French bombers had come out of the middle of Andalucía, across Portugal, and towards the allied fleets, some of the fighters sent to intercept bandits coming from northern Spain were confirming the deception and turning about, but though this happened before the attack, conclusion of their race to intercept the bombers would not. Neither would the twelve southerly fighters be soon-enough free from their fight with the Spanish.

However, the first wave of Queen Elizabeth III's fighters was able to leave the main fleet and move to intercept the Lancasters (which many British pilots were now calling Perpignans, -or more often Perps- since they refused to identify the bombers that attacked Gibraltar with British weapons and a British city, choosing instead to refer to the the perpertrator of recent crimes by name of the French town with which Lancaster was twinned since 1962).

The third carrier had put twenty-four of her fighters over the main fleet, and these were dispatched to intercept once the French planes started moving again. They had between them an impressive 120 long-range BAe Meteor missiles -worth as much as a bomber or two between them-, 48 short-range ASRAAM, and had been patrolling with drop-tanks, so they were not such low-signature foe as their cousins fighting the Spanish.

Again, the bloated militaries of the Holy League would find themselves with reason to doubt the wisdom of their own arrogance and to put any perceived from Walmington into proper context. Two of the world's most modern beyond-visal-range air-to-air missiles loosed against each of the Ordu du Saint Esprit's 44 bombers were joined by 32 more directed against the Mirage-2000 and Rafale escorts, each of these having a target to itself. The Super Harriers turned tail and headed back towards the fleet before even coming near the no-escape-zone of most French air-to-air missiles, and only close to the fringe of any that might be armed with MICA, leaving any launched by the escorts to drop into the sea, or glide in quite uselessly against such agile aircraft as the new-generation Harriers, keen to set about the business of running-down long-range anti-ship missiles with their ASRAAM and 27mm guns.

As yet, the British had taken no notable casualties since the horror of Gibraltar, itself the blow of a lifetime, but the fleet's fighter screen was becoming desperately stretched, expensive missiles were being expended, and aircraft were burning fuel reserves with each tactical move, and, all the while, Britain's Australasian allies were absorbing a more substantial assault. Missiles were closing in, and Queen Elizabeth III's last fighters were lifting-off, eight remaining over her western arm of the fleet while twelve moved to replace the two-dozen that had gone to intercept French bombers. Now the carriers had only helicopters on-deck or in-hold, and even some of the Merlins were out on ASuW patrol or MASC duty, while a couple of old Sea Kings continued to fly cruise-missile-decoy missions.

The whole fleet was pulling slowly south and west, keen to avoid being caught between the main enemy body and closing French reinforcements, and interested in the resupply and air cover available from the Azores.

Britain

There wasn't much danger of British bombing missions against France's cities. Britain doesn't have any bombers. Tornado perhaps comes closest, but couldn't really be called a strategic weapon, per se. Walmington was now hastening to replace air superiority missiles and to build more of her expensive defence and strike fighters, soon to be delighted by their good performance against the more heavily armed enemy that sat just miles away.

Great Walmington spent some time applying a name to Anglo-Australian forces in the North Atlantic, first suggesting Wendsleybury before switching to Harold because it was felt that the former sounded too much like a reference to Wendsleybury Station. This lasted for about five seconds before somebody suggested that Harold was not the best name to apply to her defences while Britain feared invasion from the continent, and the authorities switched back to Task Force Wendsleybury, by which they hoped to touch common ground and inject a sence of purpose to disperate forces with no directed task beyond immediate self-preservation.

(OOC: Nothing done on the response to/result of Spain's cruise missile attack because we are yet to see what changes are made after that lengthy debate on where everything is, when everyone fired, and the new-generation nature of our BVRAAMs. I'm not too sure how many Rafale we're going to shoot-down before the launches, and what will be left to attempt intercept of however many missiles that leaves to be launched against the fleet. Damage may be suffered by British forces in the next post, we'll see.)

OOC: LRR, where do you want my stuff to go? And what do you want Brigadier Morrell to do?

Mammoth post tonight, lots going on. I don't know about divine retribution, NG. The heathens are holding their own all right.:p

Atlantic Fleet

Again the RAM launchers on every ship in the fleet opened up, closely followed by Aster missiles. Their targets, once again, were the enemy missile strike that raced across the choppy sea towards the Atlantic Fleet. Missile hit missile again, but in far greater numbers this time. The Australasians cut no corners with their fleet defense this round, PAAMS systems quickly identifying the threats and dispatching Asters to eliminate them. Even so, a good eight missiles survivied the gauntlet, still racing dead-on for the fleet.

Most of those which survived seemed to make for the destroyer screen. All in all, that was absurdly fortunate. The destroyers mounted plenty of CIWS for their small size, and the updated Phalanx systems came online with a chattering roar. Although markedly less dramatic than the missile on missile barrage, the Phalanx guns dropped another six into the sea. But, as was shown during the Falklands war, it only takes one. Two flew straight and true at their targets.

One Exocet streaked towards one of the older Attack Destroyers, the Tripolitania, scratched by CIWS fire but not damaged enough. It hit on the bow, blowing a huge hole in the forecastle of the ship. Smoke billowed out the hole as it caught fire. The firecrews hurried to work, spraying seawater on the burning bits of hull while damage control teams prepared themselves to plug what leaks they could. The Tripolitania did not sink, but it limped to the rear, ready to make for the Azores for extensive repairs.

The other had totally escaped damage, as if guided by an unseen hand. It arrowed in on the Protected Cruiser Botany Bay, striking it between its belts of armour. The fire erupted inwards, smashing bodies and melting bulkheads. Pieces of the missile flew everywhere, and the concussive force coursed threw the corridors. The ship's port side caved inwards as the starboard side ballooned out, while seawater rushed in on both sides. It took only minutes to sink, during which time the men and women of the ship ran to liferafts or simply jumped into the sea, relying on their neighbours to pick them up when able.

The fleet itself fought on. Seemingly angered by the fate of their small brothers, every ship in the fleet spewed missiles in return. The guided missile cruisers and destroyers alone divested themselves of nearly twoscore anti-ship missiles, firing multiple salvoes from each launcher the Attack Destroyers and Escort Cruisers adding another dozen or so for good measure. As it was, seventy odd missiles came streaking back, buzzing and humming through the Atlantic summer air.

Simultaneously, the new DDGs fired off a salvo of Aborigine cruise missiles, three each to make a total of twelve. The twelve were split evenly between two targets, the Principe d'Asturios and the Charles de Gaulle. The bigger missiles lumbered to altitude comparative to their smaller bretheren, before being joined by slow flying decoys from the mulitpurpose launchers on each DDG's midships. To the League fleet it would appear that some thirty cruise missiles were inbound for their carriers, and they would have only seconds to react when they saw their mistake flying in from above their destroyer screens.

And then they fired again, loosing more anti-ship missiles to follow the cruise missiles and accompanying dummies. This time, the fleet fired in sequence so the sky would be filled with missiles all the time. It was as much to cover French RADAR with contacts as anything else, but a good few might get through anyway.

Minutes before the counterlaunch, two squadrons of AS-12s and another two of AS-17s rocketed free from the Stormhawk. They carried no weapons on outboard pylons and no drop tanks. The AS-12s each carried six AMRAAM missiles and a pair of Albacore Light Anti-Ship Missiles. The AS-17 strike fighters, on the other hand, carried only a pair of Striker AAM missiles on wingtip and two ASRAAMs internally. The Air to Air strike capability was sacrificed for four Yellowtail anti-ship missiles, the larger cousin to the Albacore and easily able to punch through armour. The squadrons, once again led by Colonel Amundsen, scratched the stratosphere as they made their way over the enemy fleet.

Thanks to their design which made them inherently difficult to detect, the fighters reached extreme missile range unopposed. As per standing orders though, the pilots continued to near the fleet before launching missiles. Command wanted positive locks so as to achieve maximum damage, and that was what the pilots of the Naval Air Corps would deliver. The fighters slid into optimum missile range, showing up as little more than a ghostly contact flitting in and out. Many operators would put it down to noise from the tumultuous battle raging below as missiles from the Australasian fleet screamed down on them in waves.

"All fighters, open bay doors and prepare to launch missiles." Colonel Amundsen's voice filtered through the radios, one of two messages that the plan dictated that he send. Even up at extreme altitude, radio silence was the best-if slighty paranoid-bet. Amundsen himself, in an AS-12, selected a Cherbourg battleship as his target. He centered the crosshairs on the bridge, but knew that the missile would take its own path. Even so, it made him feel better. He got the solid tone and squeezed the trigger twice. "Angel-five," he said into the microphone, signalling the launch. Two Albacore missiles streaked towards the battleship, giving away their position for all to see. "Now go, go!" He turned the fighter around with a kick to the rudder and rammed the throttle up to full. His fighter, followed by the others in his group, leapt away from the scene. Below, some eighty missiles streaked home.

Atlantic Fleet, SSKN Flamberge

Commander McDonald gulped as she heard the warning. Four torpedoes inbound. No time to think, just act.

"Emergency blow!" It was the signal of total, utter lack of options for a submariner to give such an order. The Officer of the Deck obeyed without question, slapping the absurdly cliched big red switch. Everyone aboard grabbed the nearest handhold as the boat filled its ballast tanks with compressed air in an instant. The engine kicked in automatically and the dive planes rotated to match. The Flamberge rocketed to the surface faster than any submarine was meant to go, spewing bubbles, countermeasures and white noise in its wake. It broke the surface with a tremendous crash of water amid... the French First Fleet. But the torpedoes were gone, lost in the roiling water below.

Not that it was likely to help much.

"Fuck. Emergency dive!" McDonald was at a loss. She hadn't stopped to consider, and it had probably saved all of their lives. But through her lack of consideration she'd landed them on the surface among the French navy.

As per her order, every single hole to the ballast tanks was opened and filled. The sub sank like a rock, but the French had her position now. Nothing good could come of this.

Submarines, Island Fleet

Commander Agostinho Balshoar gave the order to fire on Toulon at 0800 hours on June fourteenth. It was transmitted via the floating wire to the other Thunderer class SSGN that laid in wait with his own off the coast of Malta. Simultaneously the emptied their magazines of Aborigine cruise missiles, some two-hundred and sixty all told. Beside them, the SSKN tasked with guarding them fired its own fifty missiles. By 0804 there were three hundred and ninety missiles streaking towards Toulon's docks, ((shipyards?)) power stations, military installations, water/sewage treatment plants, government buildings and water pumping stations. No missile defenses in the world could handle a strike like that, but even if the French managed to shoot down large numbers of missiles, the devastation would be severe. No power, no water and no defenses, the city of Toulon would be made to see, once and for all, that the Sun King could not save them from the wrath of a planet opressed by their master for too long.

Atlantic Fleet

Thirty cruise missiles, though, was a manageable number, and the tactic had not gone totally unanticipated. One of the alert squadrons of AS-12s was scrambled and equipped entirely with specially modified Aster-15 missiles and new, easily interchangeable targetting programs. Even so, these fighters would be useless for anything besides missile interception for the remainder of the battle. The techs were simply too busy to keep swapping out CPUs. As they neared the target missiles, each pilot picked two. He got a lock with his software and fired once, twice. Choruses of "Angel five!" were heard as the missiles streaked towards their heavier counterparts. Then, swiftly as they'd come, the fighters turned tail and flew back to the Stormhawk.

A few minutes later, the remaining cruise missiles streaked in towards the carrier. They were some ten, and easily dispatched by more Aster launches from the destroyer screen. And the newly rechristened Taskforce Wendselybury fought on.

edited: One cruiser sunk in addition to one DDA critically damaged. Hope that's more realistic; sorry for 'jumping the gun' as NG put it.

Western Sahara, the Moroccan Wall

The signal had been given and the forces marshalled and now the judgement day that had been hanging over the Polisario had finally come, the Moroccan Military would finish what it had begun all those years ago, some eighteen battalions were ready to attack the enemy, five of which were armoured. The sands of the desert would turn red with blood, and it would not be that of Morroco.

The lead T-72s and M60s rolled over the border, covering long lines of Puma Light Wheeled Vehicles and M113s. Thousands of men were moving into the territory which was truly Morrocan and had been kept from them for far too long. This day would go down in history as the date of the rebirth of the Morrocan people.
There were even questionmarks over the PLLA, whether they would even dare to come to fight them. They were outgunned and possibly even outnumbered, the armour they possed was meerly modestly upgrade T-55s, they would fall victim to the LAHAT missiles of the Morrocan Armour before they even entered range to shoot back.
The sand was billowing up down wind of the armoured spearheads, as if the desert was trying to conceal the fate of the long lived Independance Movement from the prying eyes of the world

Southern Benin

French efforts will no doubt continue to be frustrated as the loyalist militiamen continuously fail to make it easy for the RVL. The very nature of hit-and-run attacks means that there are rarely any concentrations of troops for the French to bomb, so heavy bombers don't usually hit anything besides either uninhabited forest or unlucky Beninese civilians. With most militiamen operating in groups of no more than twenty, and the best of all militiamen waiting for a better time to hit the invaders, there isn't much for Versailles' sattelite network to spot, and equally little to hit with high-flying strategic bombers.

So while French informers might be well-supported, they'll have trouble directing airstrikes on the men who are ready to come in their houses and gun them down in bed. For the same reason, enlistment with the Royal Benin Police is quite low, Beninese citizens not at all happy with Versailles and not so willing to forgive its subjugation of their natural rights as Louis-Auguste might believe. Mabye some are willing to betray their country and their people, but it is not and will never be even close to a majority, at least not for a very long time. Normandy will doubtless have trouble raising within a week a force that can seriously challenge the Militia Levvies, years old, on a local level. Hearts and minds has never been a French strong suit, and with bombers going about levelling this and that and covering the earth with napalm, they don't look all too ready to start now.

But the French do make progress. Attacks drop-off significantly, militiamen either judging it too dangerous or inopportune to risk strikes with Nigerian special forces running around with Beninese traitors. The militia levvies might know the terrain, but they can't handle their rifles nearly as good as a proffessional special forces outfit. Many militiamen are indeed killed as well, although deaths amongst the militia levvies decrease sharply as well with almost all militiamen adopting the time-tested tactics of the guerilla.

Togo Mountains

The Togolese Regulars are as hard as ever to spot, and compound things by not opening fire until French mercenaries or their Russian allies are right on top of their positions. By letting the French get very close before opening-up on them, the Togolese hope to negate their enemy's firepower advantage and inflict as many casualties as possible before effecting a frantic retreat westward. Versailles' Lancasters, therefore, don't have such an easy time hitting the Togolese positions, who expect to be overrun anyway and don't boast or need that much in the way of support infrastructure.

Most of the favorable ground is also already occupied by Togolese Army units, making defensible land in the mountains relatively hard to come by. But, not counting Ghanaian MB.326K raids, ECOMOG regular forces don't seek-out the RVL as they are afraid of French firepower, so this isn't as big a problem as it might have been otherwise. RBP agents will find that, in Togo, they stick out like sore thumbs and are more often than not killed by Togolese militia levvies on sight. One does not seamlessly transplant Beninese collaborators into Togo and expect them to have a successful time at things.

Accra, Ghana

The Ghanaians do indeed intend to turn their capital into a serious thorn in the French side, and much progress has already been made towards these ends. Sandbagged machine gun emplacements appear all over, and many ground-floor windows find themselves sporting a recoilless rifle or RPG. Militiamen are distributed throughout the city, and they prepare to make the French advance extremely difficult.

Perhaps Normandy and his generals, used to slaughtering Lavragerians by the thousands, don't necessarily recognize that it is rather difficult to render a city unlivable without targeting civillians. Although it has only been a few days, and starvation is a very long way from setting-in, French destruction of infrastructure, especially roads, does take its toll.

Accra's defenders make considerable use of old Jamestown Fort, a stalwart stone bastion capable of withstanding a fair amount of French punishment. Food and ammunition is stockpiled in its basements, and over 1,000 Ghanaian regulars prepare to make a stand behind its walls. French bombing is discouraged by a grand total of eight twin 35mm AA guns, dug-in around the fort and directed by a Fledermaus radar positioned nearby.

All the F-20s and F-5s are eventually shot down, but the Ghanaians are happy with their score, having downed one of the far more expensive Mirage 2000s before driving-off the rest. The pilot credited with the kill, a Lusakan-trained Flight Lieutenant, is carried through the streets triumphantly, and the Australasians are given an equally entheusiastic welcome. Brigadier Morrel, after he is presented with a medal by the city's mayor, is ordered to position his combat troops on Accra's outskirts, and is advised to dig-in before the inevitable French assault reaches the capital.

Near Sassandra, Cote D'Ivoire

The Guineans acquit themselves admirably indeed, and sweep French marines with more than one ZU-23 while other guns, as well as a fair few SA-14s, are turned against attack helicopters. As in Porto Novo, the Zulu helicopters will find the going quite dangerous as MANPADs are loosed at them from dense cover, the launch teams nowhere to be found a second later. But even in light of their fierce resistance, units trying to retreat find their routes blocked by more French marines and much of the Guinean force is destroyed in French ambushes as it attempts to rejoin the division charged with protecting Abidjan. When the 6,000 French marines get there, though, things might go very differently for them. Over 10,000 Guineans, Senegalese, Ghanaians, and Burkinabe are waiting in fairly well-prepared positions, protected by a SAM net the French have not yet seen in West Africa, and supported by tanks.

Guiglo, Cote D'Ivoire

French forces don't find many Guinean vehicles to attack near Guiglo, so the Zulus have a more difficult time finding the retreating infantry amongst the hilly terrain and vegetation, and this is compounded by the presence of SA-14 teams that are always ready to engage the despised French attack helicopters.

As is the case across West Africa, the French rarely find ECOMOG troops in high-enough concentrations to make carpet-bombing worthwhile. Using the terrain to advantage, they instead wait in well-camoflauged positions in relatively small groups, with as low a profile as possible.

The MB.339 attack is more successful than anticipated, and the French Mirages are in for a surprise themselves as the armed trainers turn to fight back, using their U-Darters and high manouverability to advantage. All of them are downed eventually, but not before firing-off their AAMs and ideally managing to down some of the Mirages, themselves apparently armed with nothing better.

Northwestern Mali

The L-39ZAs are also all shot-down, but the very cheap little attack-trainers prove their worth beyond any doubt. Fortunately for the Malians, there are still some two-dozen where that came from. If something should surprise the West Africans, it is the success of their tiny airforces, most of which were not expected to survive even as long as they have. When the Russians do arrive, with their vastly more expensive aircraft, it will surprise nobody that an airforce with exponentially better funding (being able, for example, to put radars in its aircraft) can soundly destroy Mali's pieced-together force of attack-trainers.

After Kidal, the French columns face very little opposition in their drive south. The armored car squadrons had largely withdrawn to the north, towards Taoudenni where a sizable force of Malian regulars prepares for long-term guerilla warfare against French occupation. Another eight L-39ZAs, this time based out of Gao, fly another strike against the French columns, again armed with cluster bombs and flying at extremely low level across the flat desert terrain. While the threat from Mirages is very high, and the landscape offers little cover for the Malians, low-level bombing raids like the ones conducted at Kidal and outside Tessalit are the only way to effectively strike the French and the Algerian collaborationists from the air.

Bourem, Mali

Unlike Kidal and Tessalit, Bourem falls without much of a fight, but this is largely due to the fact that the troops that would have protected the city are instead hidden in the rugged terrain immediately southwest. With the Leclercs and APCs doubtless in need of fuel after such a long and fast advance across the open desert, the Malian army has some time to get itself together and work-out a strategy.

Central Mali

The middle part of Mali, mainly Mopti province, hosts the great bulk of the Malian Army and therefore bears the brunt of French bombing raids. Organized for an advance, the Malian troops take heavy losses from the high-flying Lancasters, and this convinces Malian generals to abandon their plans to hit the French first and instead settle into defensive positions in the province's rugged terrain, benefitting from superior knowledge of the landscape and the presence of a long spine of hills running through the center of the province. The 30,000 regulars on hand take-up position and prepare to block the French advance into the more urbanized portion of Mali while Burkinabe troops are nearby.

Versailles, as is its way, is not fighting an equal enemy. It can hardly be called a great conquest when one of the world's best-funded militaries, supported by an extensive logistical apparatus, manages to crush a ramshackle collection of particularly impoverished African states which benefitted from almost no outside support in the years leading up to the invasion. And, all told, the ECOMOG troops are doing an excellent job, much better than expected in fact, and besides the abandonment of the Malian offensive nothing has been so disastrous as to surprise the ECOWAS states. It doesn't take a great deal of insight to predict the outcome, but ECOWAS is as determined as ever to make the French pay for every inch of West African territory. Benin doesn't serve as a particularly good example for West African governments and peoples, since, like Mubarrak, Tomboke is a puppet of Versailles and rules in place of democratically-elected Yayi Boni. With much of West Africa only recently free of military dictatorship and absolutist rule, the prospect of being once again presided-over by a supreme ruler does not hold much appeal.

Many West Africans also look east for their salvation. The Holy League will, sooner or later, burn itself out, and India hasn't even approached its military-industrial potential. In fact, it hasn't really tried that hard quite yet. The League might be ahead to start-off, but it looks quite unlikely that the war will go its way for very much longer, with China and India ready to jump straight into the fighting. So when French dominion is expected only to last a few years at most, West Africans don't find themselves terribly demoralized or inclined to cooperate with the invader regimes.

Raleigh, Australasia

Each week, the Prime Minister of Australasia gave a radio address to discuss the challenges and issues facing the nation. It was rarely heard by Australasians themselves unless they were members of the journalism profession, and was largely ignored. This week, however, the radio signal was carried via a network of sattelites to one of the trapped AS-12s, which broadcast it to stations in the ECOWAS nations. It was addressed to the people of the ECOWAS alliance.

"I hope that the citizens of Australasia will bear with me as I shift the focus of my weekly radio address from the nation to the people of ECOWAS. During this trying time, I would like to ask all of you to remember that despite the temporary French presence, the nations of the world will render what help they can.

"I have already spoken at length on the subject of French atrocities, and need say no more than that the current activities of the French military bring to mind the Goths of ancient Rome and the violence perpetrated by the Nazis during the second world war.

"What I mean to say tonight is that I have nothing but the greatest respect for the people of Africa, who have wethered attacks from one of the best trained armies in the world and remain, in large part, free. You are the front lines of a new world war, in which the democratic nations of the world find themselves once again facing autocracy, barbarism and mass slaughter.

"But we democracies are a robust breed, and as Great Walmington, Quinntonia and their allies proved twice before. The world's dictatorships will one day fall, but our nations have and will continue to prove the test of time. Welcome, as it were, to the club.

"Your nations represent the future of Africa, one in which it will no longer have to bow to Continental imperialism. As with all democracies, it is a messy start. But you will, I am certain, prevail. Your will is stronger than theirs, your cause more just. It is so because you fight for your home and your freedom, whereas they fight only to oppress you.

"In the future, historians will record the defense of Africa as the beginning of a new age. And in that new age there will be no greater boast than I am a citizen of the ECOWAS, for it will be you that shall hold firm against the invaders and safeguard not only yourselves, but the entire continent.

"Although the forces of the imperialists draw closer and may seem today to obscure any hope for freedom, remember those who only half a century past faced similar odds in Europe, and won in the end. What I ask of you is difficult, because they are so many. But I ask you to stand firm and await the help that you will get from the rest of the world. For though Australasian forces do not fight towards Africa, they will do their best to free you nonetheless. Our goal is Versailles, and the French hegemony in Africa will not long endure when it is broken in France.

"In the words of one Winston S. Churchill, 'we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and the oceans, we shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields and in the streets. We shall fight on the hills, and we shall never give quarter'. This is the bitter crop that the French have sowed with their invasion of Africa, and this is the crop which they shall reap.

"Fight on today, for tommorow you shall be free. This is my vow to you."

Accra, Ghana

Brigadier Sir Edwin Morrell found himself ordered to defend the city, but was quite without troops. He had the air crews of the C-130s, who were stuck for the moment in Accra. He had the trainers, some fifty of them. And he had the two AS-12 pilots who were best suited, in the end, for getting drunk, smoking cigars, getting laid and shooting down Mirage-2000s. It was a small force, but with a bit of time it might form a well trained platoon.

Morrell divided his soldiers' time between their own training and that of any Ghanan volunteers. His own men were trained as one might train Special Forces infantry, led in these exercises by an ex-SF colonel by the name of Robertson. Any volunteers were equipped with the assault rifles brought from Australasia, and some were given cursory training in the use of Centurion II and Leopard I tanks.

But in the end, it was the improvised explosive devices that proved the most useful part of the cargo. Obviously enough from the name, the IEDs were not brought in as such by cargo aircraft, but were rather tank shells equipped with what detonators could be found and seeded in the approaches to Accra. They were to be armed by a cell phone signal so that the French would bear the full brunt of the bombs when they invaded.

The helicopter gunships brought in by Australasia were hidden inside garages, under camo netting, anything to keep them undamaged. Their location was a closely guarded secret among the Australasians, who didn't let anyone-- even the allied Ghanan commander-- know exactly where they were.

What weapons the Australasians didn't find an immediate use for were placed in caches around the city that could be accessed quickly and easily in the event of an invasion. The caches grew over the week to include RPGs, sniper rifles, grenades, the odd MANPAD and other weapons. There were even a few swords in appearance.

Meanwhile, a convoy of supply and Naval Ships- including a Kraken-class Super Dreadnaught (The IRNS Plesiosaur) and a brace of Submarines is sailing into Goa, bringing more supplies to the beleagured Colony...

Several dozen kilometres out, the Roycelandian convoy -watched by satellites, UAVs, maritime patrol planes, and science ships- is intercepted by a lightly-armed Soviet patrol boat, which informs the Plesiosaur (a ship from a class that shares its name with one of the Commonwealth's ballistic missile submarines, no less than CS Kraken, the second of the Liopleurodon ferox Class, commissioned only this month) that Goa has come under blockade ordered on Soviet authority, a state of affairs that is to remain for so long as the Roycelandian Empire is considered a help to the illegal regimes of continental Europe.

Ahead of the convoy, the waters have been quietly mined by Ortiagon stealth submarines, several of which lie in wait with so-called capital torpedoes designed to ruin the day of even a dreadnought's captain, and a large number of missile-armed Gujarat Class multi-role corvettes are strung-out around Goa's waters.

On-land, the Militia Auxiliary has continued to melt away after its attempt to simply walk into Goa was rebuffed, and the forest of artificial soft-cover remains, along with no small number of shrubs and a lot of new turf containing long grass. The tanks that were seen, it can now be estimated by anyone who's read recent organisational reports coming out of the Commonwealth, are in fact most probably crewed by Expert Corps personnel raised since the start of the East Asian crisis.

Realizing that Chinese deployment in Depkazia meant that Russian entrance into the great conflagration that was World War Three was no unavoidable, Russian forces dispatch most naval assets to assist the French and Spanish.

Additionally,ten thousand of Russian peace keeping forces in Nigeria are placed under the command of the French general, along with 2,000 of Mubarrak's elite Black Mamba troops. In terms of aerial assets, ten Mig-39 air superiority fighters, ten multirole Mig-25s, and five Tu-120M strategic bombers are at France's disposal.

(OOC: Wingert's still fairly busy, and this is an extremely pressing matter, so I took a liberty. If he wishes to change it he can.)


Please disregard this, as I have other plans.
thanx.
Tsar Wingert the Great.

((Ug, well, we’ll work around that I guess, its no huge biggie, LRR---those would just be French Special Agents and aircraft instead then. Gurg, Im not responding to some of your last posts because I am not clear on what you mean, please see OOC thread. Wal, I will be responding to your last Atlantic post as well when we do this. Please understand I want to make it comprehensive, and I have like many things going on. I am going to handle the Med post and Africa right now, and then when Gurg responds we can get the Atlantic sorted out. And Gurg I’ll respond to the sub action in the next post as well. And the first section of my response is after the attack at Toulon, which I respond to after it, but I put it first because I thought it belonged there.))

Salon de Mars, Versailles

His Majesty Louis-Auguste had personally called an emergency meeting of his Conseil d’Etat at a short time after minuit. In the vast hall His Throne had been raised, under an image of the god Mars in battle his canopy was set. Aside His Throne was set the Queens, in equally martial majesty. His Most Christian Majesty was in full regalia, with crown and ermine cloak with blue velvet suit, Her Serene Majesty Jillesepone was dressed in cloth of silver, diamonds laced in her hair.

Gathered at the long oaken table were the Comte de Maurepas (Prime Minister), the Duc de Broglie (War Minister), the Comte de Vergennes (Minister of State), the Marechal de Saxe (Chairman of the General Staff), the Comte d’Artois (Prince of the Blood, first eldest brother to Louis-Auguste, Supreme Commander of the Armies) and le Comte de Provence (Prince of the Blood, second eldest brother to Louis-Auguste, Chancellor).

They were all awakened after a revel in the gardens, even le Duc de Broglie, by the King’s Garde Suisse, and brought to the emergency meeting.

News had come in, in a ghastly move Toulon had been attacked, war burned, the offensive wavered, and Louis-Auguste King of France would assume direct command.

From His Throne on high he addressed his Ministers, in a heavy and powerful tone:

“Our enemies have shown their ruthlessness, now we will show ours. We are now fully engaged in an effort of total war, and we shall never succumb to our enemies, we shall only rise to the occasion.”

The words he then uttered, thence to be sent by heralds and proclaimed throughout France, would go down in history…

“Henceforth, until the enemies have been driven from the territory of our Sovereign Realms, the French people and all the Crown’s subjects are in permanent requisition for military service. The young men shall go to battle; the married men shall forge arms and transport provisions; the women will work in factories and produce goods in homes, and shall serve in the hospitals; the children shall assist their families and attend the Kingdom’s Royal Youth Foundation, where they shall learn Catholic faith and dutiful obedience to Our Person; the old men shall repair into the public places, to stimulate the courage of the warriors and preach the unity of the Kingdom and the hatred of the marauding and godless Left.”

The Queen then led the audience with her regal and keen Russian accent, “Vive le Roi!”

“Vive le Roi, Vive le Roi!”, they echoed, clapping at the Kings determination, which filled them all with renewed strength. He was shining now as he laid out his plans, the very Sun King his enemies dismissed. He would not burn them, but warp them by his very gravity until they were broken or in his orbit!

“Sicily, we will take, it will be an expensive venture again, but we cannot loose our position in the Mediterranean, earlier events showed us that earlier today. Australasia will pay.”

“We will send more troops to Africa, another Corps I declare, we will overwhelm our enemies. We shall not burn ourselves out, but burn our enemies as we cast them into the brimstone of Hell! No retreat, no halts, only attack! Now is the time to move with everything we have to secure those vital lands our glorious realm must have to survive, with all our energy continue what we have begun. We will strike with everything we have now, and show our enemies that if they do not flee, then we will surely and utterly destroy them!”

Applause followed, the King rose and left with the Queen by a rear exit, and the Ministers set about preparing themselves to harness the full energies of France. Not before a note was secretly handed to the Minister of State by the King’s valet, Thierry, instructing him to float an offer of peace with the Walmingtonian Government, declaring that Gibraltar returning was a possibility, and that the current climate of escalation threatened to overwhelm all nations, so that it would be better if Britain and France had peace. There was talk even of indemnity payments to the British Crown by the Bourbons.

It was a slight chance deal, but the British were rational, and need not drag themselves into a conflict that threatened to explode into greater and greater levels.

Hours later, His Majesty would be traveling secretly to Madrid, to meet with Philip VII and display Holy League unity during the conflict, and the strength of the pan-national Maison de Bourbon.

The doors were thrown open, and the excited court gathered in the vast ante-chamber to witness le Comte d’Artois walk out proudly and to an excitedly hushed audience stated loudly and with swelling pride, tucking his plumed tricorner under his arm and clearing his throat:

“Mesdames et Messieurs, we continue the fight!”

Roars of applause and cheering followed. The Sun King waxed brilliant still, now to see where his rays of light shown…

Corsica; Toulon

Toulon itself had an ample defense network, due to its proximity to Marseilles and the fact it was a primary location for the building of Defender class corvettes, but surely not enough to deflect such a strike.

What was able to heavily deflect such an attack was Corsica Air Command, which had been built for just such an attack, and the Mediterranean side of France. Bases dotted the island equipped with anti-aircraft and anti-missile missiles, and formed the southernmost point of the extensive aerial defense grid over the Kingdom of France.

So, unfortunately for the Australasians their attack was picked up far earlier than they would expect. Enough time for interceptors to be launched from Marseilles and Toulon to deploy their own weapons against the incoming missiles, and ample time to deploy the islands capability against the missiles first. Effectively, the Australasian missiles faced three obstacles: Corsican anti-missiles fire, interceptor anti-missile fire, and finally the AM defenses around Toulon itself, in the course of near hour defense.

Australasian missiles were turkey-shot out of the sky by the combined French strikes, which clearly displayed the defenders courage and will. Yet sheer number prevailed, and through the attack was courageously deflected for the most part, seven enemy missiles got through. The four that hit military targets had relatively little impact. A dock was destroyed, the airport conning tower sustained damage but still stood, the dock yards had two missiles land, causing minor damage to the production facilities but failing to achieve any major hits. It was the other missiles that took a toll, the three that landed in the city itself, causing massive damage and civilian death. One blew the second level out from the large Catholic Hospital, the ensuing fire caused the whole five story building to collapse in on itself. One hit the train station, causing untold casualties, and one dropped into a neighborhood with a thunderous shock, igniting houses and the hearts of the French people. Pictures were horrifying, and columns of smoke rose from the city in fires. Not many, but those that did with striking plumes of black smoke.

Indeed the Australasian attack would do more to unite the French behind their King than any news of victories in far away Africa. They saw now that the propaganda was true, and a conspiracy of vampiric, demonic, pestiferous monsters who sought nothing more than to rape France and despoil Holy Mother Church. But those vampires would be in for a shock, parades of subjects took to the streets waving fleur-de-lys and banners that read:Breaking stone only reinforces our spiritual castle and the ubiquitous Vive le Roi and God save our Good King…as well as darker ones reading Death to the Vampire Australasian demons, we will drive oak steaks through their hearts. State Media showed the marches and devastation, galvanizing all of France. Indeed, more than a few cynical Republicans, locked away deep under the Bastille in oubliettes wondered, if they found out at all, if le Duc de Broglie hadn’t purposely allowed some of the missiles though and thus win more and more support both for the war and the Devot faction of the Court.

Militarily, the attack results in the Royal Algerian Navy scrambling its frigates, older model French ships, and beginning an intensive anti-submarine hunt, in tandem with long range French helicopters, in the far Western Mediterranean near Sicily, to secure that such an attack would be impossible to conduct again. The French Third Fleet, off of Sardinia, also ordered its subs and a detachment of frigates to hunt in the Western Mediterranean in general, as sea planes were pressed into service, dropping sonar buoys at critical junctures. The hunt for the culprits was on.

Ft. Kourou, New Provence

It was the Launch Control Office at four in the morning. Only one French officer, the registered guard, stood duty over the banks of computers and dials that controlled one of His Most Christian Majesty’s largest launch facilities. Due to the ‘Smallpox’ epidemic, much of the staff had been removed in quarantine from sensitive areas, as a result the security was skeletal.

The young lieutenant could only gasp as two black dressed men with ski mask sauntered in, obviously having the codes for the door, and like smooth moving wraiths came up to the stunned man.

“What are you doing here, you need to have clea…” he held out a hand to stop them.

The lead man, thickset, said in heavily Korean accented French:

“Sorry, it had to be like this.”

Bullets, silenced, riddled the young officer, dropping him to the ground, quite dead.

As fluidly as they entered the second operative threw a plastic deck on control cards to the first who inserted them into the computer and began typing quickly, they were top notch professionals. The second then relieved the guard of his keys, and used one to turn a lock on the computer banks, and too began typing as a section popped open.

The main screen flashed to life as they clicked away, and satellites high in space received their plotting commands.

Buenos Aires appeared as the target.

Fourteen Fury XII mid-range ICBM’s came online, armed not with the standard nuclear warhead but with multiple warheads containing reinforced standard heavy explosive pods. Preliminary testing was promising, but the weapons were never fully tested in all respects.

The clicking stopped, and with a final turn of the key both agents departed, a fire consuming the room in their wake, which they of course started. There was no countdown, and as the door shut behind them fourteen missiles were leaping free of their silo’s, launching into space high above, and sending the base into chaos as no orders were given for launch.

Then they would come crashing down, at incredible speeds hardly any time later, on Buenos Aires, before the multiple warheads split apart and came drifting down separately over different parts of the city, with a destructive power far above what was unleashed on poor Toulon. Buenos Aires, at least some parts, would suffer.

The mystery would never be solved, with the French able to claim they never launched, as the King’s Officer in charge himself was killed. French propaganda instead blamed the sick and corrupt government of Australasia, using terrorists to hijack a French facility and attacking one of their own cities to further their belligerent regimes own Progressive and Communist agenda…to destroy Christianity, and subject the Jews to a new holocaust.

Only Louis-Auguste stood in their way.

Messina, Sicily

Unable to ignore the threat to France’s Mediterranean flank any longer, the War Ministry executed its plans to secure Sicily as a bulwark against enemy naval encroachment in the east, although reluctantly in view of the increased forces to be sent to Africa. France was strong, but not omnipotent. Nevertheless, Sicily had to be secured, in order to prevent any further encroachments against France, and soon, while the rolling offensives continued.

His Majesty’s military used the French 40th and 41st Divisions Gardes Francaises, paratroopers, in their initial seizure. With no enemy air support at all the transports, still with a small fighter escort to be sure, landed their men. The Holy League friendly Island was not so much occupied at all as it was fortified.

Messina was secured, then Syracuse, then the Island itself. Troops were cheered at by the devout Sicilians, who also received Holy League propaganda, and feared the Anglo and Progressive menace. The two French paratrooper divisions soon secured the airports, which enabled France to deploy anti-ship and submarine weapons to Sicily, as well as another two Division’s, heavy infantry, to be gradually flown in as well, the troops were green and the forces newly formed, but they were eager and this was a perfect first assignment.

The French General le Vicomte de Montaigne was put in charge of the Island, and set about making preparations at once. Sicilian men were even cajoled into enlisting to the French cause, and de Montaigne set about forming Divisions of Royal Sicilian Volunteer Regiments, aiming to raise ten regiments at a thousand men a piece. None doubted that at least half of such a force would be shipped to Africa and to the war there.

Lome, Togo

As three Divisions of RVL infantry secured the north of Togo after their success in the Mono River Valley (discounting of course the avoided Togo Mountains) Monseigneur le Duc de Normandie, with his two Divisions RVL, one Division Gardes Francaises and one Divisions Royal Algerian Infantry with a Battalion of OGF Mechanized Cavalry in support came to the outskirts of the Togolese capital, after a forceful and relentless drive across Southern Togo. Attack helicopters stood by for close aerial cover, while support helicopters stood by for transport.

The flat coastal zones made it ideal for le Duc to make his lighting thrust while his forces secured the northern zones and his flank. Consequently, in his manner, like an eagle he swooped upon Lome, his last great obstacle before taking on the center of enemy resistance, Ghana.

Lome was given the same choice as Porto Novo, but given three hours instead of one to surrender as French artillery was brought in and set up, and regardless of their choice to evacuate their civilian population from the city before the fighting began.

Accra, Ghana

There were growing fears in the War Ministry that Accra might become some sort of Stalingrad, not to use a poignant analogy, for the French offensive. Satellite data showed that ECOWAS was preparing for a major, major defense there.

Le Duc would soon, God willing, drive through Togo and be at Ghana’s eastern border just as General le Marquis de Heurin would drive into Ghana from Cote d’Ivoire. They would not complete a pretty textbook conquest only to find a hell-hole at the end of it. So the War Ministry, superseding the Duc de Normandie and gaining the Minister himself’s support, decided to eliminate the problem. There was simply no other choice. It might also aid in the general capitulation of West Africa.

Accra would be obliterated in air strikes. Three squadrons of Lancaster-II bombers (which seem to have become with the French in this war like the B-25’s were with Quintonnia in the Second World War) fresh of the line from the Royal Air Works in Grenoble were immediately flown to the southern African theatre, where they joined with the previous two squadrons, forming well over half a wing.

High above Accra’s formidable air defenses the bombers came, all five squadrons, supported by flights of Mirage 2000’s and even some F-1’s. It was no easy choice to make, but the city was becoming a fortress that would be too costly to storm. It was the only choice to be made.

The attack came in waves of ten bombers each, which preceded to drops tons of UGC bombs throughout the capital of African resistance. Once again the thin, shiny steel canisters would fall by the hundreds from the cavernous bomb bays of the French bombers. Once again bright white explosions sending waves of phosphorus incendiaries from ground zero followed the thin canister bombs. The first targets hit were the areas surrounding and including Jamestown Fort, although UGC is not terribly accurate. The other bombers held back about 45 minutes after this, hopefully letting Accra’s population flee the city as the fire bombing began. Yet after that three quarters of an hour, the bombing resumed, in rolling waves of ten minutes apart. The effect, eventually, would be a firestorm like that to Tokyo which gutted the city and left resistance defeated. Unfortunately for Accra again, such devastation would discount it as a likely site for French West Africa’s new capital city.

Of course, if Papa Africa could survive that, another attack could always be made.

Cote d’Ivoire

In Sassandra the French Marines find the Guineans tough, but the battle is soon theirs, with the enemy by and large wiped out. The vital town at the mouth of the river secured, the marines are free to advance further up the coast, in preparation for the assault on the capital.

To the north, in Guiglo, the defense is as well overrun, although after bitter fighting as well. It is tough for the French, but they are not taking huge casualties, just facing determined enemies, and this maintains the morale. Artillery clears the ground before the French troops move in well supported, but nevertheless as the conflict has shown some casualty does accrue for His Most Christian Majesty’s military.

In general then, a slow and steady French advance, now beginning to pick up speed after a slow amphibious beginning (tee-hee if you get it), is overtaking Cote d’Ivoire, with Mirage support and a cautious drive ever further east, to Abidjan.

Northwestern Mali

General Jules remains in Kidal, gathering his First Corps, while General Philippe Abdul continues past Bourem on his way now to Timbuktu, cautiously and always making sure to cross his T’s.

Malian air maneuvers are at this point expected, and those incoming jets if continuing on their course would find a stiff and deadly air cover laid against them. General le Marquis de Vaubin made the real progress, as his advanced and uber-equipped armored column cut south quickly through Mali, cutting easily through Menaka and invading the soil of Niger.

And so the northern offense continued, with reliable word that the French were to send more troops to fight in the north, to quickly break the fronts, make a link with le Duc de Normandie, and gear up to destroy ECOWAS as an entity.

((Sorry, I ran out of steam at the end, the rhetoric at the outset unfortunately robbed the ending of its technicalities…will start next post with Mali and such, ug, these mega posts do take a toll, be well friends!))

((OOC: No military post yet, too much to talk through OOC. Just a speech.))

Raleigh, Australasia

Sir Andrew Strathairn has been crying. He didn't bother to hide it, there was too much to do to be make-uped. Some psychologist had suggested that it would be better if he looked calm, another had disagreed. He didn't really care. Night was falling, a cold one. Nonetheless, he held his conference outside in an overcoat as the clouds gathered, addressing the thousands that had gathered on the front lawn of the First Residence at Wendselybury House, as well as the cameras that crowded up front. Unusually for an Australasian press conference, the pomp and circumstance of the event was muted. The Guards wore black coats edged with scarlet, a dress normally reserved for the death of a serving Prime Minister. The government officials wore dark colours, some even sported black armbands. Had Christina been here, she would no doubt have had to find a more intense hat than the fedora to cover her inappropriately pink hair.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Strathairn began shakily. "You know what has happened, and you have heard of France's pathetic efforts to blame it on an Australasian terrorist activity. Since the area is guarded by Roycelandian ships and separated by hundreds and hundreds of miles of jungle from Australasia, I find this unlikely.

"Louis-Auguste, you are a monster. I claim that you are an unfit ruler and an unfit human being. For the sake of the planet, I request that you commit suicide. I do not for a moment believe that you would do such a thing, even in the face of the seven thousand Australasian citizens that you have killed. I will amend my previous statement from some weeks ago. Then, I suggested that you be placed in a prison from which you would never escape. Now I propose to have you shot in the street, like the dog you are.

"In the face of this barbaric attack, Australasia will never surrender. You have proven to us beyond all doubt that you are an evil human being, and that your government is equally cruel. While before, we may have been content with defeating the French at sea and in Africa, we now seek the destruction of the French state. As long as I breathe this air, I shall fight you with all that my nation has at its disposal. If I die before this war is done, my deputies will replace me. Only if we all are dead, down to the last man, woman or child who holds freedom dear and a citizenship in this great nation, will you be safe.

"The French regime shows a distinct tendency towards atrocity. As the missiles were falling on innocent civilians in Buenos Aires, the French launched an air attack against Accra, Ghana that dropped hundreds of UGC Napalm canisters on the local population. This time, the French made no effort to cover up their flagrant disregard for human life. Our sympathy is extended to the people of Ghana, we share a common grief.

"Louis-Auguste pretends to be a holy man. He hides his depravity behind a screen of prayer and the trappings of a protector of Christianity. But no Christian man, no man of faith or morality at all, would order such horrific death on so large a scale. He has shown himself to be much more the Anti-Christ, sowing Hell on Earth, than he is a divine servant.

"I call upon all nations of the Earth, great and small, to stand with us in our hour of need. Our civilians have been suddenly and deliberately attacked on massive scale. The injured are so numerous that the hospitals and clinics in Buenos Aires cannot alone stem the tide. We have had to fly the lightly injured across the Plata to Montevideo, as well as open military hospitals to civilians. The dead lie in the streets, for our morgues are already filled. If this is God's work, I want no part of it. If this is God's work, I would rather burn in Hell than do His duty.

"But this is not God's work. This is the work of Louis-Auguste. And I should rather that he burn in Hell than I. It is my mission that he do so."

In Buenos Aires, the situation was much as Prime Minister Strathairn detailed. Fires burned, although they were slowly being brought under control by military and civilian firefighters. The badly injured were brought to one of many hospitals in the area, those with only minor wounds were airlifted to clinics and hospitals outside of the city using news choppers and military transport helicopters alike.

Buenos Aires had once been a fractious city, only recently captured from Argentina in the Falkands war. Protests were frequent and drew thousands. The police were ill-inclined to do much about it and there had been quiet talk of returning the city to the Southern Confederation in the halls of Parliament. But now, the people there were shocked. They had a hollow look in their eyes as they saw the ICBMs fall from the sky. It was a terrifying sight which none there would ever forget.

But in the intervening weeks, the horror was replaced by anger, and anger by a burning rage. Not at Australasia, nor PM Strathairn. Both enjoyed a surge in opinion there. The rage was directed at France, the only logical source of the missiles. They had come from New Provence, and the Roycelandians had ever been friends. Thus, everyone knew. Louis-Auguste fooled nobody and engendered the hatred of many. He was burned in effigy at least thirty times, derided as the new Hitler, Attila or Genghis Khan. France's flag was burned almost daily by many people in the city, and those able to help threw themselves into rebuilding. The rubble and the dust slowly cleared, leaving Buenos Aires both staunchly pro-Australasia and devoted to the destruction of France as much as any ECOWAS nation. The new song of choice was Australasia Ascendant, and feelings ran high.

The Quinntonian sends a team of their notorious Men of Megiddo, the super-secret operatives, to investigate whether or not this was truly a terrorist activity. If it was found not to be, it might see Quinntonia take a more “muscular” approach in its French policy. And these operatives, having had to operate in Dra-pol and ROK a great deal, knew how to deal with Koreans.

It was announced a Pentagon press conference that the commander of the 2nd Fleet, Admiral Andrew Hoffman was under orders from the Minister of Defence, Rebekah Klages, to move its two substantial Carrier Battle Groups into position to enforce Quinntonia’s current policy of “benevolent neutrality.” The Carrier Battle Group Moses would take position off the southern coast of Britain just in international waters, prepared to take the fight to an invading force. The Carrier Battle Group Mary Mother of God would be taking a position off the North-West Coast of Africa, keeping an eye out for atrocities and being the fist line of defence against the attacking of Australasian shipping lanes. In a coordinated manoeuvre, the 6th Fleet’s Commander, Rear Admiral Andrew Highfield is ordered to take the Carrier Battle Group St. Mark the Evangelist, called the “shorty” after the smallest Gospel in Scripture, and staying in international waters to do a routine “showing of the flag” patrol starting off the coast of Barcelona and sailing to Marseilles and then back again. Each naval element would continually broadcast its position to all interested members (except its submarine elements, of course) and maintain a total disinterested air of the conflict around them at this time, while monitoring it all. Most of the rest of the 2nd Fleet is going to be patrolling in the North Atlantic, protecting all forms of British shipping from any and all harm, while at the same time, a massive convoy of war supplies, oil tankers, arms, foodstuffs, materials for civilian gas attacks protection and bunkers, etc. consisting of more than 250 ships and tankers was leaving from New York on its way to re-supply the UK with enough supplies to keep fighting no matter what happened. This convoy was very well defended with over half of the 2nd Fleet elements and begins requesting docking protocol from the British.

In conjunction to this, a letter of condolences addressed to the Australasian PM is sent in PM Vanessa Moerike’s handwriting about the horrible missile attack, offering a humanitarian mission, and reminding him that the Naval Base in Norfolk, Virginia was ready to take on, refuel, repair and even refit any friendly naval assets in need.

WWJD
Amen.

Indian Ocean, northern mouth of the Mozambique Channel

The Glorioso Islands lay under the green flag of the United African Republics. A few Zambian, Tanzanian, and Zimbabwean soldiers hung around, wondering whether they should also hoist the Malagasy flag they'd been given, and trying to get some agreeable tunes on the radio. A Preston transport aircraft was promised to bring some luxury supplies at some convenient point in time, and so for now it was machete to the coconut time as the troops kicked back to play some sort of dice game. The laid-back attitude of the Zambians and Tanzanians was starting to find favour with Zimbabwean recruits.

Mayotte

News from Accra came at a bad time for anyone thinking of resisting. 15" guns were laid on target for some time as surrender demands were sent in Mahorian, before two utility landing craft and two hovercraft came in, the latter skipping over shallow reef to put eighty LRAC elite troops ashore ahead of some hundred and fifty regular troops with a BMP-1 fighting vehicle and ZSU-23-4 Shilka self-propelled anti-aircraft gun. One hovercraft landed on Ile Pamanzi, the rest near Mamoudzou, and the Tanzanians, Zambians, and Zimbabweans came ashore with Lusakan and Comoran banners, bayonets and machetes ready to avenge on any French sympathisers the atrocities of West Africa.

Laid-back they may usually be, but how much more it would take to tip the regulars over the edge was hard to say. Zimbabweans newly reaquainted with the pan-Africanist movement but not yet settled into the relaxed ways of the traditional Lusakans were especially close to going on a hunt for the couple of thousand Catholics amongst this mostly Muslim populace, and small though this expedition was, central authority was weak even at such little distance from the African mainland.

Ft. Kourou, French Guyana

"... and then the priest said, 'Hey, that's not a spoon!"

The two Imperial Guard had a good laugh at the joke as they returned from their smoke break at the Rocket Facility.

The laughter died very suddenly when they found one of the Imperial Guard posted outside propped against a tree, having been knifed from behind.

The other four guards outside the facility had been stealthily despatched, all via knife- their helmets and body armour evidently preventing their assassins from shooting them with a silenced gun.

"What the ever-loving..." began the first, before seeing two shapes darting out of a fire-escape.

"IMPERIAL GUARD! HALT!" he yelled, and was momentarily stunned and knocked to the ground by a bullet embedding itself in his kevlar Pith Helmet.

His companion, not having time to unsling his Lee-Enfield, drew his Webley Mk VI revolver and fired at the shapes, the muzzle flash visible in the darkness as the unmistakeable sound of a .455 Webley revolver being fired echoed into the jungle. He knew he had a hit- a kind of soldier's sixth sense, if you will, but he heard no moans and he didn't see either of the shapes go down.

Six times he had fired, taking cover behind a tree and breaking the revolver open to eject the empty brass cases and reload from a speedloader on his belt, as his companion (with a dented helmet) crawled to a nearby shrubbery and unslung his Self-Loading Lee-Enfield rifle, activating the laser sight as he did so.

It was at that moment the ICBM launched, and in the light of the rocket's fiery exhaust he saw a silhouette heading into the jungle, and opened fire on it, emptying the 20-round magazine with laser-sighted accuracy into where the figure had been. Like his companion, he knew he had scored at least one hit- but when they got to where the silhouettes had been, they found only blood on the leaves and tree-trunks, but not bodies, or any indication of where the figures could have gone...

Port Royal, Roycelandia

"The Emperor isn't going to like this at all" said Commander Blackadder as he put down the Hotline.

"I'd be very surprised if he didn't..." replied an aide, trying to work out how an ICBM had been launched from a supposedly secure facility.

"Turns out someone- who will suddenly find they just volunteered to be a guard at the Kisaka Island Penal Colony in the Arctic Circle for the rest of their career- had mistakenly thought the silo was deactivated for maintenance, and that the rocket had no fuel in it. It's so hard to get good help these days!" said Commander Blackadder, before adding in a few choice Curse Words.

His Majesty, of course, was somewhere en route to Washington DC in a Sunderland Flying Boat, speaking into one phone after another- calls to France to find out what the hell was going on, calls to Australasia to assure them that Roycelandia had no part in it and good Imperial Guard had been killed protecting the facility, calls to Quinntonia to assure them His Majesty was still coming to the conference, and calls to all manner of other people whose attention was required by His Majesty.

Sometimes, he reflected in a brief lull in the telecommuniques, it wasn't all that good to be the Emperor...

With the attack on Buenos Aires, Beijing sends Washington a second dire appeal to allow her military vessels through the canal.

Not willing to wait for hospital ships to make it, a convoy of fifty-odd aircraft packed with medical supplies leaves China, heading Buenos Aires with what little assistance they could bring to the huge casualty lists. ETA - 10 hours.

Meanwhile, China's industries were officially switching to wartime production, and offers were made to the anti-League bloc about supplying them with Chinese-made armaments. China would prefer to enter the war herself, but her location on the other side of the world would prevent anything substantial from being done.

Half of the Roycelandian sub-Fleet (as opposed to a fleet of Submarines!) on Exercise in the area have diverted, with Australasian permission, to Buenos Aires to assist in disaster relief and rebuilding efforts, as well as reassuring the residents that they are not alone in South America...

Accra, Ghana

It will be difficult to call the French attack on the Ghanaian capital much besides an atrocity, and it is indeed a bloody slaughter. Napalm and built-up areas don't mix, and before long fires rage throughout Accra as people, often with terrible burns or shrapnel wounds, stream into the countryside. Thousands upon thousands more are killed as buildings collapse or go up in flames, UGC simply laying waste to the terribly flammable makeshift or poorly-built structures that house most of Accra's population. Three quarters of an hour is hardly enough to allow many of the shocked and often wounded Ghanaians to escape their burning city, so when the second wave arrives, it causes even more devestation than the first. Most of the Ghanaian and expatriate Beninese and Togolese governments are killed in the raid, including presidents Yayi Boni and John Kufuor, and this leaves the country's administration in the hands of Lusakan-trained generals in the field. This would be a problem at any other time, but with services firmly in local hands and a fairly well-organized system of grassroots governance in place across Ghana, the destruction of central authority does not cause an unmanageable deal of trouble.

Jamestown Fort is levelled, and while it can take slow-flying cruise missiles it can't survive a concentrated attack from strategic bombers. There are few survivors amongst its thousand-man garrison, and they curse all the French and all the monarchs as they claw their way out of piles of often burning rubble. Other Army positions are destroyed and most of Accra's defenders are killed, but as is the case with the civilian popluation many are still able to escape the inferno, and prepare to reoccupy the shattered city once the bombing stops. Like Monte Cassino, the Ghanaians can still turn Accra into a major problem for the French troops.

While the total will probably never be counted, the bombing of Accra eclipses Gibraltar several times in terms of deaths. A city of close to two million people can't take such heavy bombing well, and for all their indignant words the French actions prove to most West Africans that Louis-Auguste should not be allowed to govern a post office, much less a nation. If France had not meant to show excess brutality, in Accra they throw that out the window. The Ghanaian Army, very much still in the field, prepares itself to avenge Accra's fate and make Versailles pay for its inhumanity in whatever way possible. While the regular army readies itself for the coming battle, Ghanaian militia levvies, by far the most numerous, best-equipped, and best-prepared, form their ambush parties and get ready to do their part against the French oppressor.

The destruction of Accra, besides killing untold numbers of noncombatants, works Ghanaian anger up to a level not seen in Beninese or Togolese troops. When they arrive along the Volta, France's army should be ready to face resistance the likes of which they have truly never seen before, certainly more than they would expect from a lowly West African. Ghana intends to call France out, and will make her fight on honourable terms, those she is not all too familiar with.

Southwestern Cote D'Ivoire

More often than not, with the Guineans retreating at great speed and in relatively small groups, French artillery and airpower hits empty ground. The terrain, too, aids the Guineans in their operations, and they lay in wait for the main body of the French assault to come at them. The invaders are not facing concentrated, centrally-organized units, at least not yet, so their efforts to destroy them with overwhelming firepower, not necessarily complemented by manouver, do not meet with a terribly great amount of success.

However, in Guinea, a large regular army is ready and waiting for the now despised Frenchmen, and it is not keen to mess around. Guinea, like Ghana and probably Mali, will present France with a major challenge and will hopefully drain enough out of Versailles' offensive to cause its cancellation or to allow friendly forces to destroy it.

Mumbai

France's slaughter of Accra convinces Parliament of the need to destroy the Bourbon Monarchy utterly and completely. If Gibraltar suggested a streak of inhuman brutality in the French king and his government, Accra only confirms this, and the particularly upstanding Union Defense Force finds it abhorrent. So, instead of continuing with the slow and casual armament program, Parliament does not take long to introduce new provisions for military construction and industrialization. UTS, already fairly busy, is given orders for another dozen Bengal-class corvettes, three more Kaveri-class LSLs, and four more Bihar-class SSKs. Melghat Ordnance Factories, at the same time, is ordered to start domestic production of the MT-2 Nag and 400 vehicles are commissioned. This will, for the first time since the 80s, bring the INA's tank fleet above the thousand vehicle mark, and will greatly enhance its ability to conduct war against the tank-dependant Holy League. Parliament also raises enlistment quotas for the INA, from the present 350,000 regular troops to 700,000, and for the Marines from 10,000 to 36,000. UIC troops will doubtless make up the difference in the short term, and already UIC brigades have started to exchange their SMLEs for FN-FALs, and their SPG-9Is for AT.18s.

The question of Mauritius being settled, the Ibrahim Haidari's battlegroup puts-in at Zanzibar to top-off their fuel tanks for the trip around the Cape. A communique is, in the meantime, shot off to The African Commonwealth. Lauded for its firm stance against Roycelandian imperialism and commitment to African Unity, Kinshasa is then asked to assist global efforts aimed at putting the French out of West Africa. More immediately, Parliament's communique asks for the use of Commonwealth naval facilities, since it would be by no means convenient for the Home Fleet to run its planned operations on the west side of the continent from a base on the east side.

The Union, rarely enough, means business this time around, and while it will take a while, the Holy League will likely find out that picking a fight with the Indians was not such a great idea.

It does not take long for Mumbai to form suspicions about the attack on Buenos Aires, since Versailles is far and away the guilty party. The hospital ships Itangar and Golapur on Sea are sent to aid the stricken city, along with No.44 Squadron's Tu-154s, laden with emergency medicines and Union doctors.

((OOC: Any time, Mac. Any time.))

Accra, Ghana

Brigadier Morrell still lived. As the city burned around him, he called up his entire platoon of Australasian tankers, with orders to find as many men in Accra who could drive a tank as possible and bring them out of the city. Leopard Is would be given priority, as the fifty odd tankers grabbed another twenty or so who said, upon looking inside one, that they could puzzle it out well enough. The six Helicopter Gunships hit the grounded AS-12s with missiles and flew out as well in the space between air raids, making for the empty brush with orders to meet up later.

Every Centurion tank was burned, as well as twenty Leopards for which no driver could be found. Morrell himself drove a tank, remembering when he had done the same in combat years ago. He fired the engine and led a straggling, undisciplined column from the city, carrying whatever munitions could be stuffed into the empty spaces. FALs and M-16A1s clattered inside the turret and the commander's spot. Roaring along the dirt roads at sixty miles per hour, the column followed the evacuation patterns of the Ghanan Army, to which Morrell offered his services as a commander as soon as the bombing hat begun.

Buenos Aires, Australasia

Mayor Rodrigo Cordova went on air to thank all the nations who had sent aid to his city. He spoke quietly, but with conviction. In the days since the attack, he had been personally overseeing the cleanup, assisting at one point in the rescue of six men trapped in a government building. He had achieved almost instant hero status, becoming both a cult figure and an active participant in the revival of the city.

As the days passed, the rubble slowly began to clear. The fires stopped burning and the reconstruction began. Supplies from Roycelandia were instrumental in repair efforts, and the Union doctors became everyday heroes in their own right, saving hundreds of lives.

East Zanzibar Indian Soviet Military Base, African Republic of Tanzania

The Soviet Commune has argued violently for what seems like a generation. We should do-in the Roiks now, while we've got the chance! No! We must hasten to relieve West Africa! It'll be so much quicker and easier to initiate and support operations against the Roycelandian Empire! But then the French will kill and enslave millions, and the capitalists will eventually get credit for liberating Africa! Crushing Roycelandia NOW will be a blow to the League and a convenient end to quarter of a century of hostilities with the Empire!

The movement of Union warships towards West Africa really settles the issue, in the end. Blitzkrieg it was not, but the INU can't be left to go it alone, incase they also lose alone, and the whole conflict becomes that much harder without their fullest contribution.

The reason for such heavy use of corvettes -capable though the joint Indian ships may be- at Goa must be clear to citizens of the United African Republics, whose governments, having declared war on France for her invasion of West Africa, have already arranged to send aid... on Soviet warships.

Geletians and Masai, side by lofty side. Tamils and Bemba, Bengalis and Zanzibar Arabs. Every one joining the Sindhi, Punjabi, and the other people's of the Union, all on their way to meet the Akan, Ewe, Mande, and too many others to count, let alone name, in West Africa. To see the varied peoples of the world united against their cruel employers would put the multinational farce of Swiss and Korean mercenaries to shame, so said Graeme Igo. Perhaps the imperialists would see a rabble, but their disdain could be sated in knowing that it would, at least, be the last they'd ever encounter...

For several years, Derek Igomo had gradually moved his nation away from reliance on the Soviet Commonwealth's care, having reared her on the Soviet Union's milk. Zanzibar Station remained, but Soviet forces on the mainland had been long gone, and Igomo had allied himself with his capitalist neighbour, the African Commonwealth. Threatening his driving passion for African unity and independence would presumably have been enough to make Papa Africa change his mind and beg for, or demand, Soviet aid, but, well, officially, the decision belonged to Tendyala, Mugabe, and the other guy, whose name nobody could ever remember.

Whoever made the decision -right now it didn't matter to the Commonwealth- France's actions had forced the Africans back into Soviet arms. The Commonwealth was best placed and able to stop any hostility against the UAR -after all, Tanzania borders Roycelandian East Africa, and after what happened to Mali, invasion must have seemed a realistic prospect- and hadn't yet dismantled the legacy of earlier co-operation in the last decade of the Cold War, when the 1st Commonwealth and the Roycelandian Empire began their staring contest.

The Commonwealth Oceanic Guard was going to transport the African Armies to join the ECOWAS defenders.

The Soviet Fleet...

The nuclear powered Commonwealth Ship India, the Commonwealth's first fleet carrier, carrying thirty-six Puffin strike fighters along with helicopters and UAVs, had several hundred of the hardiest Soviet Marines crammed aboard for what would be an uncomfortably long journey.

Nibiru Class light carrier assault ships CS Belinus, Kronstadt, and Kolokol carried multinational troops, vehicles, and some sixty aircraft between them.

The Black Flag Class armoured gunboat Petropavlovsk, creaking and groaning after a drawn-out low priority refit following battle damage in the Coral Sea, was on perhaps her last combat deployment, already over-due for decommission and a fate like her sister, picked apart in Hindustan .

Massive Hyena Class LPDs [i]Hyaenidae and Aardwolf carried a thousand military vehicles. Brompton Class oilers, Benefactor ammunition ships, sleek Verix Class combat stores ships, two giant Palaemon Class heavy support ships, numerous Rapier Class MCM vessels, and an Ysbyty Class hospital ship made the Soviet fleet alone stretch out in impressive style as it shunted out to sea. Restoration Class submarine tenders hinted at the presence of an Anunkai Class guided-missile submarine squadron and Ortiagon Class stealth submarines.

Fifteen Bodkin general-warfare frigates and twenty-five Gauntlet fleet-defence frigates (destroyers to most nations), being under steam with the fleet, well explained the Goan operation's reliance upon corvettes!

The fleet's flagship? Why, the first of the COG's newest class, carrying the oldest name of any warship in southern India. CS Ood, following the Igovian armoured gunboat and the Principality's first frigate (possibly the only Royalist warship ever to make much of an impression against the INU's fleet), was number one in a class of twelve Chainmail multi-role cruisers. She could run-down submarines, butcher capital ships, sweep the skies of enemy aircraft, bombard coastlines and surgically remove hostile infestations far inland, and even intercept ballistic missiles. If Ood were sat right now off Lome, the skies over Accra and Porto Novo would be empty of French fighters, bombers, helicopters, and missiles.

Alas, from the distant Mozambique Channel, even the Commonwealth Oceanic Guard couldn't defend West Africa, and so the fleet made all haste towards the Cape.

Portmeirion

Port Royal was told that it had been let off the hook for the last time. The next time that your slimey empire is hauled gasping and flapping on deck, we shall take the oar to the disagreeable flounder!

Graeme Igo was speaking actually to inform the Empire that shipping would be allowed to restore its access to Goa, but that it would first be searched, and that war materials found during the course of the current world conflict would be confiscated. After the war, carriers of such materials would simply be turned back and allowed to carry the materials away.

Essentially, it would be impossible to maintain Goa as a base for military operations. Any attempt to defy the Soviet Commune in this issue would not simply lead to the sinking of ships trying to enter Goa, but to the annexation of Goa itself, and, presumably, the invasion of Roycelandia's African colonies. But it was a chance to avoid invasion right now.

OOC: sorry for the delay in doing anything.

For the past few days Strathdonian diplomats, SDF officers and numerous beurocrats have been locked in negotiations with thier counterparts in the ANP in a quest to hammer out a plan for geting Direct Assiatance to the ECOWAS nations, a few freighters and transport aircraft had been dispatched to carry arms and ammuntion but the Strathdonian plan was much grander in scale:

The SDF were proposing that a large joint force of ANP and Strathdonian troops be invested in helping the northern countires with inital operations to consit mainly of airborne or airmobile units being rapidly inserted while a larger heavy land force be prepared to move overland through any intervening countries. To this end the SDF and the SADF are offering the use of thier entire tranport and support aircraft fleet in additon to what ever civilian frieghters and passenger liners can be conscripted. Any such operation would natrally involve the biuld up of significant forces in the nothern part of the AfCom but with the new found atmosphere of cooperation hopefully this plan could be rbough to fruition.

On Strathdonian television and other media outlets the usual rants agaisnt the eveils of France and the Holy league have reached a new level of hysteria, with Louis now no longer known as the Bastard King but simply the Coward King a phrase taken from President Livingston's speach following the attack on Buenos Aires where the king was denouced for lacking the courage to take responibility for launching the ICBM raid, an act that was obviously done at his order.

The words "PR Coup" were completely insufficient to describe the unlimited opportunities presented by myriad photos and footage of Roycelandian personnel- Imperial Guard, Imperial Navy, Imperial Marines, and even the Imperial Maritime Air Service, as well as the Imperial Red Cross- helping the residents of stricken Buenos Aires.

Photos of female Imperial Guard comforting injured, crying children, a party of sailors in mud, grime, and blood-stained Tropical White uniforms pulling injured people from the rubble, more sailors wearing fire helmets and breathing apparatus fighting fires in the city, Red Cross people bandaging and assisting the injured, and footage of the ship's helicopters ferrying the wounded were broadcast all over the world, showing the Roycelandian Empire's Finest at their best.

Indeed, one photographer would later win a Pulitzer Prize for a photograph of a grimy, sweat-soaked, burnt and smoke-stained Imperial Guardsman carrying a 5-year old girl-holding a toy doll- in his arm, while in his up-turned pith helmet was her adorable kitten, with matted fur but otherwise in one piece and meowing happily.

Further outside Buenos Aires, a DC-3 flown in from St. Kitts was airdropping red cross supplies to people who hadn't been reached by disaster relief teams yet, and several Sunderland Flying Boats were en route from Havana with medics, and humanitarian supplies- including fresh water and rations for the populace.

Meanwhile, The Imperial Government has announced that Goa will become a Free Port, in which the ships of any nation will be welcome, and that there will be no customs tarriffs on any cargo that comes in or out through Goa's enormous docks or airports. This offer is, amazingly, extended to the Beth Geletians- for the first time in over half a century, Geletian goods will be allowed to be shipped into the Roycelandian Empire- via Goa.

While the Geletians are probably not interested in the extra trade possibilities, it is a sign of a more "reasonable" stance on the "Soviet Issue" from the Imperial Parliament, acting without His Majesty's input (one of the very rare occaisons in recent history when it has done so).

Interestingly, even the Roycelandian Broadcasting Corporation's World Service has described French efforts in West Africa as "Heavy-Handed", and whilst refusing to criticise any party in the current war, has reported that several Foreign Correspondents are missing in West Africa, beleived injured or killed in anti-Western violence bought about by the French recolonisation attempts...

In the Mozambique Channel

Ibrahim Haidari and her battlegroup joins the Soviet fleet, the Union Tricolour flapping proudly in the wind alongside the red banner of revolution. Bedgellen support comes at the absolute best time, and the French, expecting a single carrier and five escorts, must be trembling as their West African operation prepares to face eight times those numbers. Union sailors, formerly expecting a firey death at the hands of overwhelming enemy numbers, now have every confidence in victory, and morale is further improved by the arrival of battle-scarred Admiral Ali Khan.

The Haidari, the destroyers Zhob and Ahmadpur East, and the frigates Parbhani, Srivardhan, and Amravati, the original battlegroup, are joined by the rest of the IN's new Type 42s; Sadiqabad, Rahimyar Khan, Moro, Chagai, and Balotra, all of them fitted-out with VLS launchers for the PAADS-2 SAM. Even the ancient Cadiz, at 60 years old probably the most elderly ship to participate in the war, arrives to support West Africa's defense. The IN's first two Gauntlets, the Vikram and the Vijay, also arrive, civilian technicians still aboard the new frigates. Never awfully reliant on a fleet train, the IN's historical focus being on coastal operations, Home Fleet nonetheless sends most of its support division to join the fleet at Zanzibar as well. The gigantic replenishment tanker Sutlej and the smaller fleet oilers Jyoti and Subroto, as well as the forward repair ship Guwahali, show up with the IN's extra destroyers.

INS Kaveri, the navy's newest LSL, embarks 650 Union marines at Zanzibar, relieving two civilian freighters of transport duty. For the remaining 1,400 or so, Unioners try to find space aboard the larger Bedgellen ships, since the plodding chartered freighters will tie the allied fleet to an unacceptable twelve knots. In case there isn't any, destroyer and frigate captains make room aboard their commands and the Ibrahim Haidari's air wing commander prepares to send some of his Sea Harriers ashore.

For Unioners, it is a glorious sight, the Indian navies arrayed together and steaming south through the Mozambique Channel, on their way to smash France's campaign against free Africa. While the greater contributor is clearly the Soviet Commonwealth, Mumbai gives its all as well, and Union sailors are as eager as anyone to engage hated Versailles' ill-used navy. All ECOWAS needs to do is stall the French for a few days more.

The Tanks churned up what little dust was still lying on the ground after the Puma Light Vehicles that were serving as scouts had passed over this part of the desert, they were pushing into the Polisario Heartland, they would either come to battle or they would loose there largest refugee camps and there main method of recruitment. Two hours after the formation had crossed the Morrocan wall, the enemy was sighted, approximately fifty vehicles, a dozen of them aging T-55s, the remainder considerably more modern Light Armoured Vehicles, as the Pumas pulled back they scattered a screen of infantry with target designators, the Polisario Army could not have seen them deploy due to the dust and the mass of the Pumas themselves were shielding them even from friendly eyes. But they were there waiting.

Once the Pumas had pulled back into the first ranks of the tank column the commander of Marias T-72 Tank company yelled into his radio, "Load LAHAT and stand by to fire on my command", Maria yelled at her gunner and pressed the ammunition selector that loaded a LAHAT missile into the gun barrel and primed it to fire.
The Camoflauged infantry infront of the armour formation waited until the Mauretanians were approximately four kilometres distant and pressed the buttons that lit the target for an ATGM strike
"Thats the signal, baker company, OPEN FIRE!"
Her gunner squeezed the trigger and with a slight shudder the missile was away and tearing towards the lead vehicles, along with the other twenty four tanks in the company they were targetting one each as designated by the infantry, the tanks quickly reloaded and fired again, targetting the other vehicles.
The Pumas in the column began spilling out infantry to counter the Polisario ground troops, then fifteen seconds after the start of the engagement. The fireworks started. Within Half an hour it was all over.

However although the Polisario Armour had been destroyed in the opening moments of the attack, they did not give in. They launched a savage infantry attack, catching the Morrocans completely off guard. About a dozen ATGWs were fired at the T-72s and M60s in the tank column, of these, the ERA on managed to protect three, the other nine were wrecked with the loss of twelve crewmen. Although the infantry assault had been decimated as they closed range, when they finally reached the Morrocans, the combat grew savage. One hundred and five Morrocans died and two hundred more were injured, with fifteen M113s put beyond repair by volleyed RPGs.
However the majority of the Polisarios trained troops in the area had been killed or wounded, some two and a half thousand in total, it was a savage fight with a savage outcome, the remainder of the Polisarios would attempt to fight a long Guerilla campaign as they had tried to do in the first place, but this would not succeed.
Every civilian they met was interned in two massive camps that would each hold nearly forty thousand people, they were not perfect places to live but were in many ways better than the fetid refugee camps where most had lived before.
The Armies Mangustas and the Airforces F-5s were used to scout out for roaming bands of bendiun and other nomads, they were rounded up and also interred, but in small ranges of fenced in desert which allowed them to maintain a modicum of there lifestyle, the last thing they needed was the Saharwi to become TOO bitter towards there new overlords. The eyes of Morroco now turned south towards the countries to the south that squander there considerable wealth due to the corruption of there leaders, they would bring new hope to the people of these lands and new resources to the Morrocan war machine that was already gathering pace.

Spanish oil companies were already building three oil rigs of the West Saharan Coastline, they would provide valuable income to the Morrocan government that desperately needed funds to pursue its wars in the South

OOC: Well, allow me to be the first member of the HL to give out the obligatory "F*ck. The Soviets have entered the war."

IC:

The shadows danced across the room, moving to the rythm of the twisting flames in the fireplace. The embers burned with a bright red light, moaning hungrily as another load of wood was tossed in for the flames to devour. The darkness mingled with the light, and soon it was hard for Mubarrak's weary eyes to tell where lay shadow and where lay light. Red cracks lined the whites of those eyes, indicating that rest had not been the Nigerian dictator's recent companion.

And how could he have danced with that mistress we call sleep? There was too much to do, far too much to do...

Wingert had told his lieutenants that the Russian Empire had adopted a policy of "benevolent neutrality" in fear that the Chinese were eager to find a pretext to invade Russia. But that "benevolent neutrality" meant nothing to the giant Soviet-Hindustani invasion force heading his way! Whether the Tsar liked it or not, it was time for Nigeria to enter the war...

(OOC: Gar, have to run, more later!)

After finally ending the Yugoslavian war the Austrian government sends up a plea to its major corporations for planes, especially for high volume transport craft to deliver Austrian forces until the Austrian government can get its hands on some Airbus A400.

Some 40 G222's with assorted additions to the airplane were sent (20 Fokker Aeroplanbau, 10 Stille Incorporated, and 5 from both Austrian Motor Works and The Gizatte Comapany) and a flight plan set up. First is a jump over to Sao Tome and Principe, Ascension Island (Roycelandia or Walmington?), Trinidad, and finally BA. Hopefully no over eager Anti-aircraft deployments in the Togo area would take down the aircraft but with the Red Cross members the Austrian government felt it right to spray paint the planes white and to apply big libeal red crosses (which were refered as red X targets by the pilots).

These would be loaded with medical supplies, foodstuffs, shoes, and electronics (for the kids), Red Cross supervisors (who would be waiting in Switzerland and would jumo at the chance) with a smattering of Austrian troops, eager to make a difference for not participating in the recent Balkan War.

The Tanks churned up what little dust was still lying on the ground after the Puma Light Vehicles that were serving as scouts had passed over this part of the desert, they were pushing into the Polisario Heartland, they would either come to battle or they would loose there largest refugee camps and there main method of recruitment...etc, etc, etc....

[OOC: Well... No.

The Western Sahara, humanitarian crisis and Moroccan occupation aside, does after all have a player. Its one thing to attack the little guy... all the rage, it seems. Its quite another to start playing my part for me.

Questions must be answered on the OOC thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=487852), Saharawi responses must be posted here, THEN you can start firing your shots.]

OOC: Oh Sorry mate, i wasnt aware there was a player for western Sahara.

--Port Moscow (Formerly Port Harcourt), Nigeria--
The waves crashed against the metallic hull, their murky green rushing towards the walls of steel before dissipating into a fine mist upon impact. The thick steel hull of the HTM Nigeria, a Kirov class missile cruiser, churned up a foamy layer on the surface of the Nigerian gulf as it sped across. Admiral N’guebe Telsa noted with a smile the bright, colorful family of fish that swam alongside the massive gun emplacements on the cruiser, and gazed upwards to the deceptively blue sky. It was a beautiful summer’s day, with a sapphire blue sky and a warm, salty breeze wafting through the air. The massive collection of aging Soviet-era ships glided through the Gulf with an almost natural grace, the water spewed across their decks glistening in the mid-day sun. A flock of seagulls floated lazily overhead, and the sweet scent of a rose picked by a village girl near Abuja flowed into Telsa’s nostrils.

It was the calm before the storm.

Soon the combined navies of Beth Gellert and the Indian National Union would sweep down upon the small, aging fleet of Nigeria with the fury of an avenging angel. An influx of cash had allowed the navy to make badly needed upgrades, modernizations, and repairs. The vessels were competent to stand in battle, and they did hold a few key advantages. The Nigerian Gulf was covered by an array of UAVs, radar, and USVs, which provided detailed targeting information for a radius far beyond that of normal land based radar. The close proximity to the Nigerian coast allowed for significant air assets to be deployed and quickly refueled. The fact that it was their home turf also gave the Nigerians the knowledge of the layout of the naval “terrain”, including where certain currents flowed and where nasty rock formations made things very difficult.

Telsa knew he had no chance. He listed his Navy’s various advantages to boost the morale of both his crew and of himself, but he knew that the odds were massively stacked against him. Soviet crews were better trained, used better warships, and had the key advantage of sheer volume.

The Nigerians could only hope that France and Spain would win their Atlantic engagement and swoop in to aid them.

The Battle of the Nigerian Gulf would be settled in the Atlantic…

--Roycelandian Nigeria—

“Well, that’s certainly not something you see everyday,” remarked the Roycelandian Officer tasked with guarding this segment of the Russian-Roycelandian border.

His remark was quite apt in describing the man who stood before him. His skin was the color of smooth milk chocolate, and his eyes blazed with an intense, icy blue. His hair was long, flowing and black, and this, along with his thick, drooping mustache and impressive stature, led some to compare him to the Bedgellen consul known as Adiatorix. He resented this comparison, as he was a member of an emerging, new generation of middle class, technologically adept, educated Nigerians that embraced the Tsar and capitalism while spurning all aspects of Leftist thought. This was clearly evidenced by his crisp, neatly pressed, and meticulously maintained Tsarist uniform, and by the fact that when he addressed the Roycelandian officer it was in perfect Russian, albeit with the slight hint of a Nigerian accent.

“Servants of the King of Cuba, I have a message for you.”

The officer groaned. Yet another one of those conceited protestors who thought whatever random animal shelter or burger joint they ran was worthy enough to receive aid from the Emperor himself…At least this one was better dressed than most.

“Who are you?”
“My friends call me Kuwabara. My enemies refer to me as ‘Oh God no please have mercy’.”
“Cute. Very cute. Now, Mr. Kuwabara, under Imperial policy we’re obliged to receive whatever ‘message’ you may have and send it to the local public relations office, most likely to be filed under the ‘Entertainment on slow work days” label. So talk, before I lose my patience.”
“I see you do not take me seriously. Perhaps this will alter your tone…”

Kuwabara’s hands whipped behind his back, and reached for what appeared to be an extremely long, cylindrical backpack slung across his back. He unzipped it, and pulled out a menacing looking spear. The handle was made of the thick and powerful Zanziba tree, and carved into its dark, polished surface were the names of ancient Nigerian kings. The deadly blade at the end of the wooden handle was made from a metal that bore both signs of tremendous age and meticulous upkeep. Long violet cloths hung right underneath the blade, and a rainbow of gems and jewels adorned the handle. All in all, the weapon was of a tremendous height and weight, and it was a testament to Kuwabara’s strength that he could lift it with such ease.

“Do you know what this is?”
“The spear…the Spear of Kings…”
“This is the spear held by the rulers of the Songhai Empire, of the Hausa States, of the Kanem-Bornu Kingdom, of every major Nigerian power. This is the spear that killed the first British man who dared claim our country for his own in the 1880s, and this is the spear that drank deeply of white man’s blood during the struggles for independence. And this will be the spear that will carve out your brains if you don’t listen to Impiri Mubarrak’s demands.”
“How do we know you didn’t just steal that, along with the uniform?”

Kuwabara snapped his fingers, and somehow managed to trigger an earthquake. The ground trembled immensely, as leaves were torn from trees, animals flung to the ground, and the guard tower supports groaned. Suddenly, massive waves of men in uniform, riding in Sabre vehicles roared out of the thick jungle, waving heavy machine gun emplacements at the two Roycelandian officers.

“Did I steal this Army as well?”
“Good point.”
“Roycelandia has taken the coward’s route and refused to defend its brethren in the great war. If you will not fight the Communist hordes, then we can no longer allow you to hold our brothers under your command. Your stewardship has been admirable, but now it is time for all Nigerians to stand and be counted. Impirio Mubarrak has revoked recognition of Roycelandian control of any of Nigeria. You have 48 hours to make your decision.”

Having not bothered to wait for Quintonnian permission to enter the canal, the fleets arrive at Buenos Aires after rounding Chile.

There they would resupply before engaging Spanish and French forces.

Tsar Wingert has ordered his Council of War to make ready the massive preparations that have been taking place over the last several months. His entire Navy is ready to sail into battle should that be the only recourse.
But that is also the last thing that he wishes to do. He cannot afford to fight another world war, as he realises that no one will get away unscathed. He is afraid that most of the people currently involved do not realise the seriousness of what is involved in warmaking, and he would see that it didn’t happen.
However, a peacemaker cannot be respected without the ability to cause harm, and he was ready to show that ability, if not exercise it.
The Tsar’s personal Council of War orders the assembled Northern Fleet in its entirety to sail into the North Atlantic on “exercises.” This is to be a peaceful voyage and their position shall be broadcast at all times, to any nation wanting to know.

Their destination would be pre-broadcast, as they got underway out of their Northern ports, they would be taking up a patrol position, taking no aggressive posture, about 300 kms north of the Shetland Islands, right on the Prime Meridian, about the distance north of Trondhiem. They are making all possible haste to the area, and are cruising around the Scandinavian horn and south past the Arctic Circle very soon.

The Northern Fleet-
1 Kuznetsov Class Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruiser (Aircraft Carrier)
-updated to launch MiG-29
1 Kiev Class Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruiser (Aircraft Carrier)
1 Kirov Class Missile Battle
1 Slava Class Cruiser
5 Kashin Class Destroyers
1 Udaloy I Class Destroyer
10 Krivak Class Frigates
5 Grisha III Class Corvettes


At this time, the Baltic Fleet is put to sea, and placed on high alert, but they are ordered to only sail as out from the Gulf of Finland into the Baltic Sea, where they will stray no farther towards the Atlantic than Gdansk in northern Poland, well within the Russian sphere of influence.

Baltic Fleet-
1 Kraken Class Roycelandian Dreadnaught
1 Kuznetetsov Class Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruiser (Aircraft Carrier)
-updated to launch MiG-29
1 Kirov Class Missile Battecruiser
3 Slava Class Cruisers
10 Kashin Class Destroyers
5 Kara Class Guided Missile Cruisers <Destroyer>
10 Sovremenny Class Destroyers
2 Udaloy I Class Destroyers
3 Udaloy II Class Destroyers
10 Krivak Class Frigates
10 Grisha III Class Corvettes
1 Grisha IV Class Corvettes
20 Grisha V Class Corvettes
10 Tarantul Class Corvettes


This is done in the most public ways possible, with their courses registered that morning from their embassies in several nations, including UK, Australasia, and Quinntonia. France and Spain had already been informed.

Wingert includes in that dossier a plea signed by his own hand for cooler heads and peaceful talks. He presents himself as a calming influence in the Holy League and explains that he wishes peace and a beneficial diplomatic solution to this mess.

Tsar Wingert the Great.


OOC-BTW, what is the composition of the Chinese Fleet?

Having not bothered to wait for Quintonnian permission to enter the canal, the fleets arrive at Buenos Aires after rounding Chile.

There they would resupply before engaging Spanish and French forces.


OOC: Your sailors must hate themselves for signing up in the navy, going -for the first time- pretty much around the world would make anyone loose their grip on sanity.

IC: After flying, sipping some coke and eating airplane food the detachment of Austrian and Red Cross workers were all quite happy to land, wel before they had to work in the radioactive wasteland which BA had become. Landing a little south of BA they set about making a less ad hoc base, unloaded their supplies, and the airplanes turned around -after being refueled- for another trip down the runway towards Austria again for more supplies.

The troops first went from the ground up with rescuing -pardon the pun-, even though the vast majority that were caught underneath buildings were already dead and gone the troops went about collecting names, family members, and held fast funerals, promising that they would make sure that the graves would be untouched for more specialized funerals.

Handing out supplies the Austrians went mostly unnoticed, very few of anybody in that part of the world could point out the German flag much less the small, lesser, Germanic state's flag of Austria. With most speaking German, and the rest assorted gutteral languages most couldn't distinguish between the impression was just strengthed. After spray painting their flag onto their helmets -to many people looking for Germans to point their way to the German camp fianlly got a little to much for the troops-, tents, and lots of flags the people finally asked what country they were from. Austria was the usual reply but some just kept it to "here" and pointed to the flag.

The unsung heroes were good in what they did, with the most hardest task done they kept at the long haul. iving out supplies, getting more and more men -the Austrian Army is not intergrated (in mine)- they continued to rebuild the homes, getting some of the best contrsucted housing -free or not- most of the people had ever seen.

OOC: Actually, Buenos Aires isn't radioactive, since NG used non-nuclear ICBMs. If it had been a nuclear attack, Paris would be just as FUBAR'd as I. Thanks for the aid anyway, Moorington. Also, I can't do much in the Atlantic without NG, who I think is working out some complex RL stuff right now. So militarily, I'm pretty much on hold. Politically, though...

IC:
Raleigh, Australasia

Prime Minister Strathairn found himself posessed of a message from Tsar Wingert, the unofficial Great Old Man of the Holy League. While the other kings of the League had earned only enmity from Raleigh, it was to be hoped that the veteran Tsar would be amenable to neutrality. He seemed to be calling for international cease-fire, which denoted a level of reasonableness that was lacking otherwise in Europe.

Tsar Wingert I, Strathairn wrote. As I am sure you are aware, Louis-Auguste, King of France, has committed terrible and manifold crimes in his persecution of war against several nations of the world. His bombers, working in concert with Spanish forces, dropped chemical weapons on Gibraltar, killing roughly a thousand people.

When he invaded no less than four sovereign African nations, he dropped more chemical weapons on Accra, Ghana, a city of two million. Many thousands more died in this attack, estimates range from five to twenty thousand lives lost. Both of these actions are reprehensible in their own right, a violation of international law.

But his most recent act is alone sufficient to merit unconditional war, a phrase which I do not use lightly. Shortly after his barbaric attack upon Accra, fourteen non-nuclear ICBMs were launched at Buenos Aires, among the most populous cities of Australasia. Louis-Auguste denied any involvement, and instead chose to blame it upon my own government, saying that we infiltrated French/Roycelandian holdings in French Guyana and fired these missiles at our own city, a statement that makes no sense in any mind but his. It is the consensus of the international community that France was behind these attacks, but formal verification will be given when Quinntonian investigative teams finish their work in the area. Seven and a half thousand people lost their lives, citizens to the last of Australasia. No nation can be expected to accept peace after such a heinous and deliberate attack.

To that end, I am afraid that we will have to reject your offer. Louis-Auguste has raped, pillaged and vandalized this world, killed by his word untold thousands and imperilled the rule of law. He has committed crimes uncountable and caused much anguish across the world. He has insulted by his words and actions the faith of Christianity, to which myself and many others subscribe. He will be brought to justice before the world which he has wronged.

Despite our rejection of your proposal, I remain hopeful that our nations may work together. Tsarist Russia has done no injury to Australasia, and we have done none to you. Although our allies may be opposed, and our systems of governance different, we extend the hand of friendship. We have no desire to fight Russia, and would be glad to see your moderating influence exerted more often upon your fellow monarchs. Australasia will observe neutrality towards Russia so long as the same is observed in return, and I hope that this may be the beginning of an enduring partnership between our two lands.
~ Rt. Hon. Sir Andrew Strathairn, Prime Minister, Australasia

Ghana, outside Accra (added later)

Morrell's column halted their pell-mell rush some thirty kilometres north of the city, along the big empty of the desert. The roads had been too crowded, people and animals running from the fire and the French. In the public mind, the two seemed linked inextricably. While the tanks rumbled to a grudging stop among the dust and the grass, Morrell dug his cellular sattelite phone from his pocket and made exclusive use of COMSAT 19, the Australasian government's satellite over the coastal states of ECOWAS. He dialled the number of the commanding general in charge of Accra's defense, ready to reccomend an immediate withdrawl north to the Akwapim mountain range, already fortified on the Togo side.

It cut across southern Ghana like an arrowhead, and if they could find the troops to garrison the 450 kilometre range, they would make a fine barrier against the French from which to launch quick strikes and make a solid defense. The problem was its size; to the best of his knowledge the entirety of ECOMOG didn't posess enough manpower to hold the entire line. If they didn't hold the line, the French could surround them and defeat them in detail.

But the militia levvies, although ill trained and poorly equipped, would no doubt swell in size after the Accra attacks. If someone had the foresight to pack out the rest of the FALs, M-16s, RPGs and MANPADS that had been left behind, they could still equip and train a large force. Maybe one large enough to hold the mountains.

Morrell dialled his phone.

OOC: AC, a few tiny things: Firstly, the Roycelandian Capital of Port Royal is located in Jamaica, not Cuba, and secondly- if Nigeria is about to get as badly pwned by the Chinese and the Beth Geletians as you think, wouldn't it be more reasonable to ask for Roycelandian help? We have rather a lot of military forces in the area and could probably take Port Moscow within a couple of days if Mubarrak was determined to fight over the issue... Or we could work together to protect Nigeria from the Soviets.

And who, exactly, have we failed to defend? The French were doing very well without us, Britain withdrew from NATO, and so far we've had no reason to enter the war on one side or the other... But, since it's obvious everyone wants Roycelandia to join in, the question is "on which side shall we join?"

OOC: Ah, sorry. I just remember you once being referred to as "the Cuban king" and that sort of thing just stuck in my mind. :)

Frankly, the increasing Australasian-Roycelandian cooperation made me assume that Royce was going to stand by and let Nigeria get invaded...The Soviets are likely going to keep away from Roycelandian turf and focus on the Holy League, no?

And you've "failed to defend" your fellow imperialists. In the interest of staying neutral you left the Holy League to be crushed by the Commies...and yes, I realize you made the smarter choice, but the League's not going to be happy nonetheless. :D

OOC: Points, not too subtly, to the OOC thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=487852).

Edit: Huh. 900th post.

Declarations of war extended to Morocco as African Armies deploy to ECOWAS

Tanzania, Zambia, and Zimbabwe all, in turn, issued fresh statements to create between the United African Republics and the Kingdom of Morocco a state of war brought on by the latter party's invasion of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic. Collectively, the UAR is amongst a minority of nations on earth to have extended official recognition to the SADR, and has in the past deployed light forces to the region.

Papa Africa, Derek Igomo, warns that the Moroccans are making an historic mistake in choosing this time to renew hostilities with the impressively patient and reasonable Saharawi people, whose trust, he says, has been betrayed too often.

Practically, of course, there is little that can be done by the UAR until its expeditionary forces arrive in West Africa as part of the joint Indian fleet en route from Tanzanian territory. However, with Presidents Miyanda, Mugabe, and Tanko committed to the struggle, it appears that Lusakan forces have no intention of stopping with the liberation of the ECOWAS nations while the Saharawi are across the border and under attack.

No Tanzanian warships are part of the Indian fleet, all being kept at home to guard against Roycelandian or other hostilities, and the African People's Volunteer Army remained on a high state of alert at home: the UARs were now at war with France and Morocco. However, most of the forces remaining behind were APVA and reserves, along with some peacekeeping-trained LRAC units: deployed with the Indians were many of the UARs's Olifant L2 battletanks, AFRISAM systems, and the rest of the union's short cutting-edge.


(OOC: Ever get the feeling that we may have too many nations and fronts in a single thread?)

((OOC: Feeling suitably hypocritical after my above comment, I'd like to float this here as well as in the OOC thread, to make sure everyone gets the message.

Why not split this off into two threads, one for Europe (France, the Atlantic, Britain etc) and one for Africa? Iron Sea and Dark Continent, perhaps?))

While Foreign Affairs Minister Hu Jin Tao thought the Tsar was genuine, the man in charge of the military, General Chang thought the whole thing was a delaying tactic.

War with France and Spain would come in a matter of days. The Chinese at last had a fleet in the Atlantic, resupplying at Buenos Aires and offering medical capacity at the same time.

However, unknown to all but himself, a pack of Chinese submarines were just a few hours away from sea-skimmer range of the Holy League fleet.

Western Sahara, the Moroccan Wall

The signal had been given and the forces marshalled and now the judgement day that had been hanging over the Polisario had finally come, the Moroccan Military would finish what it had begun all those years ago, some eighteen battalions were ready to attack the enemy, five of which were armoured. The sands of the desert would turn red with blood, and it would not be that of Morroco.

The lead T-72s and M60s rolled over the border, covering long lines of Puma Light Wheeled Vehicles and M113s. Thousands of men were moving into the territory which was truly Morrocan and had been kept from them for far too long. This day would go down in history as the date of the rebirth of the Morrocan people.
There were even questionmarks over the PLLA, whether they would even dare to come to fight them. They were outgunned and possibly even outnumbered, the armour they possed was meerly modestly upgrade T-55s, they would fall victim to the LAHAT missiles of the Morrocan Armour before they even entered range to shoot back.
The sand was billowing up down wind of the armoured spearheads, as if the desert was trying to conceal the fate of the long lived Independance Movement from the prying eyes of the world

Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic

Moroccan movements had not gone unnoticed east of the berm... after decades of waiting, it seemed Moroccan patience had snapped. The grizzled veterans of the Polisario Front grasped tight their AKMs and grinned to each other, remembering that it was only by retreating to the shelter of their wall had Morocco escaped defeat at their hands years ago. The Sahara belonged to the Saharawi, a lesson that would be taught in Moroccan blood.

As the first Moroccan units moved outward from the Wall of Shame, Polisario radios and runners relayed warning messages across the free territory of the SADR. There would likely be time to spare, as millions of landmines coated whole kilometres south and east of the berm, almost all scattered by means which had made mapping impossible. In the sally corridors free of Moroccan mines, Polisario had unleashed its own buried ordnance, leaving an unbroken chain of waiting explosives awaiting the pressure of a tank tread or foot to spew forth their destructive power. For once, the berm's defences would serve to shield the Saharawi instead of the Moroccan invaders.

Bir Lahlou

The camps around Bir Lahlou were swept by a sudden wave of activity. A third of the free Saharawi might be at arms across the liberated SADR, but almost a hundred thousand elderly, women, and children remained in the northeast, still living where they had pitched their tents after fleeing their home-in-exile at Tindouf. At the first signs of a Moroccan advance, tents were folded once again and the Saharawi turned to flee through the desert.

The logistics of such a movement were nightmarish... a thousand vehicles and as many camels were woefully insufficient to displace a hundred times as many people to possible safety in Mauritania. Most would have to set out on foot, to be met by transportation as it returned from unloading its first wave of human cargo. Those trudging through the rocky terrain on foot would be vulnerable to the airborn and mechanized weapons of the Moroccans, and so a desperate request was issued to those foreign humanitarians who remained amongst the refugees: "Stay with the Saharawi!" The Moroccans, it was believed would hardly dare bomb columns which held not only SADR citizens but also Quinntonian missionaries and Hindustani doctors. The aid workers would have the opportunity now not only to keep this desperate people from starvation, but to shield them from death as well.

Ain Ben Tili, Mauritania

This small Mauritanian town had been home to a thousand Saharawi for many years, most who had settled here for economic reasons relating to trade between northern Mauritania and the SADR camps at Tindouf. Most had intermarried with the local populace, hanging their guns above the mantlepiece save for the occasional raid into southern Algeria. Now, they prepared for an influx of refugees that would surpass the town's population several times over. Several set about their appointed tasks, setting out along the route to serve as sentries or meeting with Mauretanian officials to keep them appraised. The latter were almost tearful in their desperation, this latest flight only the last in a long series that had plagued the Saharawi since the first cursed Spaniard had set foot in Saguia el Hamra, but beneath their begging lay a certainty that the Saharawi would arrive with or without official sanction from Nouakchott.

United African Republics

Grand declarations of thanks and solidarity issue from SADR representatives to Papa Africa, though there is little belief that Igomo will be able to do anything in the short term given the French invasion of ECOWAS and other difficulties of geography.

London, Washington, Mumbai, etc

At first news of Moroccan movements, calls from Bir Lahlou set the SADR's foreign representatives into motion. Morocco's illegal and immoral occupation of the Western Sahara must end, they cry, this latest offensive is merely another bid to wipe out the Saharawi people so that Morocco might rape their land with impunity... soon, it was predicted, Morocco would begin handing out the rights to Western Sahara's resources to the nations who sponsored this bloodbath; how could the world stand by and watch this brutal exploitation when they had the means to stop it? Humanitarian aid is needed in greater quantities than ever before, and political muscle must be flexed as was done by the USQ in Austria to end the Yugoslav invasion.

Given recent events in West Africa, however, some Saharawi are less than hopeful... their skin may be a shade too dark to merit succour from the West.

Mauritania, a pet project of sort when it comes to the Moors, is extended the honor of being able to house a detachment of Austrian and Red Cross personnel under Truegen, which will be supported by several G222s and extensive monetary funds will hopefully be accepted.

Mauritania is also extended the Neutral Nation Pact which would then increase its membership to 2. If Mauritania would accept any of these wonderful gifts of support the Austrian government is willing to donate huge amount of money which will be used in any way the Mauritanian government fills is needed and to hvae on the ground "money lenders" who give money to who the Austrian government thinks is in the most need.

Raleigh, Australasia

Although the west may prove deaf to the plight of the Saharawi, Prime Minister Strathairn was not. Some months ago, he had pledged on national television to oppose the forces of imperialism wherever they were to be found. And with a phone call, he made good on that pledge. His phone call was to the Azores, where the 89th Strategic Bomber Squadron cooled its heels and polished its aircraft.

The orders were simple. Make a full-force bombing attack on the city of Rabat. Target major government buildings, military installations and docks. Drop minimal ordinance, cause minimal damage. Civilian casualties were to be kept to a bare minimum. Make the attack in surprise, use whatever available means were necessary to prevent hitting civilian targets.

89th Bomber Wing, over Rabat

The UAV cruised just below the clouds, relaying targetting data to the refitted Vulcan bombers of the 89th. It was painted light grey to blend with the clouds, designed to be as difficult to detect via radar as possible. It was tiny and quiet. In all likelihood, the Moroccans would never see it coming. The targets were military airfields, docks and minor government buildings. Their exact co-ordinates were determined, packed and sent to the lead aircraft of the 89th, which sent them in turn to each aircraft in the wing.

Weapon officers armed their 225 kilogram precision guided bombs. On two aircraft, the weapon officers rolled four 450 kg bombs into place on the rack, their targets designated as the military airfield in Rabat. It was the only target to be hit by large munitions. Upon the Colonel's order, each of the twenty Vulcan bombers discharged a single bomb, which fell directly towards its designated target. The destruction was hoped to be minimal.

Aboard Vulcans six and eight, the bombing continued. Fully four of the huge 450 kg bombs dropped towards the military airfield, followed by the extra 250 kg bombs from the rest of the wing. The 89th left as swiftly as it had come, and the UAV followed, protected now by the clouds.

Timed simultaneously with the attack, a message from Prime Minister Strathairn was faxed to the presidential offices in Rabat, which were not to be attacked in the raid. It read:

As you are becoming aware, the 89th bomber wing has just completed a precision strike against Rabat. It will continue to do so, with increasing power and ordinance, so long as the illegal invasion of the Western Sahara continues. It is supported by both fighters and similar squadrons, which will make attacks in Casablanca, Marraketch and other cities so long as the invasion continues.

We are aware of the influx of Spanish goods and material that Morocco has recieved in the last few years. We are aware that your government supports actions of the despot Philip VII. We will not stand for it. Philip has shown his nakedly expansionist policies in the slaughter of Gibraltar, and his willingness to co-operate with Louis-Auguste of France. Should you place yourself at their side, as their ally, you will open yourself to continued attacks against your military and your citizenry. Although citizen casualties will be minimised, it is impossible to guarantee that there will be none. They will increase as the strength of attack increases. We do not wish that upon you. If you recall all invading forces immediately, there will be no need for more shots to be fired in anger between Australasia and Morocco.
-Rt. Hon. Sir Andrew Strathairn, PM. Aust.

OOC: Thanks to UE's tune up, i have the capability to resist such a raid.

IC: The raid had been picked up by one of Moroccos new RADAR stations on its western coast approximately eighty kilometres out of its probable targets in Rabat.
A flight of four of the Morrocan Airforces refurbished F-5 fighter jets was ordered to abort live fire exercises against old biplane dummies off the coast and were sent to intercept them.
The only reason they had been detected so early was due to the developments in Morrocan RADAR defence systems in recent years, thanks to both United Elias and more recently the Kingdom of Spain. The bombers were not to be engaged until thirty seconds after they entered Moroccan airspace, the delay was to allow for a verbal warning and a volley of warning shots from the fighters twin twenty milimetre cannons before the deadly air to air missiles came into play.
The four fighters accelerated to just below there maximum speed and began to loop into kill posistions behind the Vulcan Bombers from the north, by this time they were only a few minutes outside Moroccan Airspace, the standoff would soon be over in one way or another.
The leader of the flight clicked his comm to wideband and broadcast the following message.
"Unknown Vulcan Bombers, be advised that you are on a heading that will bring you into Moroccan Airspace in the next few minutes, if you do not change course immediately action will be taken, over"

Morrocan Wall
After the first few Puma light Vehicles had been imobilised by the mines in the corridors that were supposed to be clear of weapons the Morrocan Army adopted a more agressive mine clearing strategy to that usual for attacking armies. They simply brought every mortar and artillery peice they could down on the corridor, blasting so much sand and rubble into the air that the mines were either detonated or occasionally left exposed but unexploded, the barrage moved down the corridor, the columns moving behind it, it would also flush out any defending troops hoping to catch the army by suprise.

Near Mauretanian Border
The flight of F-5s flew low at near maximum speed as they approached the convoy of refugees on foot as they attempted to escape across the open desert. The F-5s were not going to open fire this time but they were going to perform a far more important purpose, this group was still a day away from the border and relative safety, the Sultan had not become so bold as to launch a strike into a soveriegn nations airspace, but columns closer to the border were being dealt with far more harshly. These fighters were meerly going to drop leaflets proclaiming that they would be treated as enemy combatants if they had not turned back by midday tommorow.

Closer to the morrocan border another flight of F-5s approached another group of refugees slowly moving towards the Mauretanian Border stations just visible on the Horizon, it was a petty many of them would not reach them. They came in low at below what would have been tree-top level, if there had been any trees. They were armed with a pair of additional cannon pods and racks full of napalm bomblets, there orders were to leave none alive.
As they approached range they began to open fire with cannons, strafing the landrovers at the leading edge of the column and the slower people at the trailing end of the column.
As they overflew it so low that it would most likely deafen many of the refugees they began releasing bomblets that would turn a few square metres of ground and everything in it into the fuel of a raging inferno, there would be no mercy.

Mumbai

Renewed Moroccan atrocities against the Saharawis, while not unexpected, certainly make Parliament extremely angry. Like the Lusakans, Mumbai now sees little cause to stop at West Africa. Once the French have been taken care of, the mammoth fleet sent to lift the siege on ECOWAS can easily be turned towards Morocco, a pushover next to France. The Union, after supplying or attempting to supply the Polisario front and the Saharawi people for the better part of a decade, is not about to leave them to their fate now that Rabat is ready to deal with the Saharawis decisively.

As Parliamentarians boil with indignation and make speeches condemning the Holy League and its apparent ally in Morocco, a smaller committee pens an ultimatium for Rabat. It is not yet delivered, though, since the Union is wary of local Spanish and French power, and does not want to make promises that it cannot keep with regards to the Saharawi. False hope is, after all, often worse than none at all. Delegates are sent to Raipur with drafts for Bedgellen critique and editing, and the embassy in London also recieves a teletype printout to show Mainwaring's cabinet.

A diplomatic mission is also dispatched to Baghdad, since it is believed that Elian influence could convince the Moroccans to, if nothing else, return to the Berm line and allow emergency supplies through to the Saharawis. Elian diplomats have proven particularly apathetic towards the plight of the Saharawis in the past, though, and Mumbai's diplomats are banking on the Elians being upset about Morocco's increasingly independent foreign policy. The strength and tone of Parliament's ultimatum will depend largely on the Elian reaction.

Perhaps Mumbai has taken too idealistic and too unilateral a stance, but few doubt the Union's ability to decimate the Moroccan invasion on its own, and with a combined Indian-UAR battlegroup not at all far away and already on a mission against imperialism, Parliament thinks that it can, for one of the first times, enforce such policy. The writing committee presents its first draft to Parliament, making the assumption that United Elias' reaction will be a favorable one:

"The Kingdom of Morocco, through its despicable and inhuman invasion of the remainder of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic, the other part being already under the illegal occupation of the Kingdom of Morocco, has put itself in the position of an aggressor state and an imperialist state no different from those belonging to the Holy League. The Indian National Union does not hesitate to remove the Kingdom of Morocco from its hegemony over the rightly independent Saharawi people, but the Indian National Union does offer the Kingdom of Morocco one last chance to avert what can only amount to a calamity for both the Moroccan military and the Moroccan government. The Kingdom of Morocco must:

1. Remove the entirety of its armed forces in Western Sahara to within Moroccan borders circa 1966,

2. Recognize the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic as the soveriegn power in the entirety of Western Sahara, including lands currently under Moroccan occupation,

3. Pay reparations to the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic sufficient to enable the dismantlement of the Berm and the removal of land mines,

4. Relocate Moroccan colonists residing within the borders of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic to within Moroccan borders circa 1966, except where said colonists swear an oath of alliegance to the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic,

5. Swear never again to challenge the independence of the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic directly or through assistance rendered to another aggressor nation,

6. Allow shipments of emergency food aid into the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic unhindered and facilitate its distribution amongst the Saharawi people.

Should the Kingdom of Morocco fail to comply with these provisions, the Indian National Union will be obliged to declare war upon the Kingdom of Morocco until such provisions are met."

Bir Lahlou

Having worked alongside the Saharawi people for no small amount of years, the Union doctors in Bir Lahlou are not about to abandon them in the face of an invasion. While there aren't many doctors left, and those still around are running very low on vital antibiotics and sedatives, they are determined to do their absolute best. They pack their tents and equipment, sometimes aboard camels but often on their own bodies, and join the refugee columns headed towards Mauritania. Some doctors unfurl large Red Crescent flags and march with them flapping in the wind, easily visible to pilots of low-flying aircraft, in the hope that such an obvious indicator of noncombatants will deter raids on the largely defenseless Saharawi refugees.

London continues nervously to chew its policy-writing pen over the Moroccan issue, wanting to snap Rabat's transatlantic supply lines and shell X, Y, and Z for association with the Holy League, but quietly sympathetic to potential anti-communist expansion in a troubled region.

Fundamentally, the wait is for Baghdad's move, which is likely to be fully supported, whatever it may be.

Defence Minister General Sir Jack Jones, having exhorted his collegues against panic, is frustrated by his inability to actively impress action on a belief that Moroccan expansion will ultimately not secure a jolly thing against communist influence, and rather that it will give an excuse for Soviet intervention and then wither before Indian firepower. Not much help direclty against the League, and at once a potential help to the communists. Morocco is a problem that Elias will have to solve.

((OOC: Sorry for the intrusion, but all Africa happenings should go in Dark Continent (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=490304), the new Africa portion of WWIII. ATTN: Spizania. No IC yet, see first post.))

[Tias Tag! Full IC war participation posts by African Commonwealth and Neo-Anarchos either tomorrow or the day after.]

OOC: I'm back.

((Hello friends. France here, but for this post I will introduce my temporary capacity playing as the Kingdom of Spain. Now back to crafting my 100 kiloton meat and potatoes post. An amendment, this was posted on another thread but I am reposting it here with several changes as it is pertinent. Now, I agree to this two theatre thing. I will post on the DC thread with my African business on Wed, and well keep this as the naval thread. Good idea. Sorry to do this post when the others are neglected till Wed, but I just felt this would be proper.))

El Escorial, Spain

His Catholic Majesty Philip VII, of the Spanish Bourbons, having unified the Iberian Peninsula and launching an historic war with his brother-in-law His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste to defend the right; had moved his court to the legendary Escorial Palace of His Catholic Majesty Philip V to demonstrate both his assumption of an absolute, Catholic monarch in every way and his commitment to victory ahead. The Royal Standard of Spain was again hoisted above the deeply religiously toned palace, boasting the fleur-de-lys defended by the Pillars of Hercules, Philip VIIs’ personal standard.

El Escorial Palace (http://www.cs.utah.edu/~bigler/pictures/europe2002/spain/el%20escorial.jpg)

His Catholic Majesty had just heard Mass, and with his Court in full court attire (similarly elaborate to the French 18th Century throwbacks, but rather darker than the bright silks of the favored by the peers under the French Bourbons) exited the Cathedral of the Palace proceeded by monks and saluted by magnificently attired Gardes Suisses, who after the fashion of his brother-in-law Louis-Auguste even to the extent of the soldiers possessing the same silver, gold, blue and red uniforms had hired Suisse mercenaries, arguably the finest in the world, as his personal bodyguard, arm in arm with Her Majesty Queen Antoinette: youngest sister of Louis-Auguste, daughter of the Restorer of the Right Louis XX, the most powerful member of his court by means of her will and unimaginable beauty, and four months pregnant with a child, a boy, that would unite in blood again the twin Bourbon realms of Europe, France and Spain. But by means of her influence and the Will of God, France and Spain had become the most closely united nations on earth, allied in almost every respect, and forming within the Holy League itself a ‘Bourbon’ party. She ruled the King’s heart as mightily as Philip ruled the Iberian, and had guided him ever more firmly from a constitutional farce to the second mightiest state in Western Europe under a crown of gold shod iron.

As Their Majesties arrived at their personal apartments, Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul, Ambassador Extraordinary to the Escorial stood by an ante-chamber, and bowed eloquently. He had come to inform His Catholic Majesty Versailles had just received a message from the Sultan of Morocco of the greatest import, and would he be pleased to read his vital dispatch.

The Royal Couple reviewed the document only for a moment before Philip’s eyes lit up, and Antoinette clapped her hands in glee. It seemed that the Sultan of Morocco had relayed to Louis-Auguste, under duress as he was, his desire for a Bourbon presence, both Spanish and French, in Morocco. As France was more than occupied at the moment and strained to capacity with its massive, massive war this assignment was delegated to Spain, in the main at least. Of course Versailles would manage to dispatch personnel to Morocco, but certainly nothing over one thousand hot bodies.

“Why, darling, it’s just what we’ve been waiting for. This will give you an opportunity to rise as my brother has in Africa by opening another theatre of operations, one limited enough where glory can be gotten at a rather cheap price” said Antoinette, squealing in delight and clapping every so often.

“Perhaps,” said His Catholic “but, my sweet, we must always be careful. This will take a good number of men to work properly. At any rate, you’re quite right. God is giving us the chance to make another stroke on his behalf.”

He rose, and they embraced before kissing passionately for several minutes, excited by the political triumph they would undertake. After that, the General Staff was summoned to His Majesty’s Council of State, and plans were drawn up.

Ceuta, Spanish enclave in Morocco

Field Marshall Philippe de las Fuentes strode out of the modified Alouette V helicopter bought from the armories of France ere the war. The city was booming with activity as the Marshall viewed the first of three Spanish divisions landing, the 4th, 9th, and 17th Divisions of the Royal Spanish Army, totaling some 37,652 soldiers. Spanish Leclerc battle tanks rolled down the streets on their way south into Morocco proper, followed by the troops marching with supplies.

A contribution of His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste the Ordu du Saint-Esprit provided air cover by means of a wing of Mirage’s based in the Kingdom of Algeria, and would continue to aerially cover the Spanish Expeditionary Force. So it was in fact a combined operation.

De las Fuentes orders were clear, and he set about executing them at once. First on the Agenda was a comprehensive arms supply mission to the Royal Moroccan Army, engaged in a struggle against a no doubt leftist inspired insurgency. Mica and Exocet missiles were given in large quantities to the Moroccan government, by credit, extended. 43 Spanish older model Hercules were landed in Rabat and turned over to the government. Guns flowed in like water, and so began the armament of Morocco. In the Hercules’ were artillery pieces, light howitzers, along with ammunition and, courtesy of Louis-Auguste, several thousand FAMAS assault rifles. Ten planes contained other cargo, secret cargo but again French. They were filled with VX Nerve Gas, Serin Gas, several biological units capable of deploying potent strains of smallpox and measles, and finally several radio-active ‘dirty-bombs’ made cheaply from nuclear waste from France.

Once the Sultan’s government was secured, in fact immediately, the Spanish forces, with limited French assistance, would set up six fully capable long range anti-ship missile bases using Moroccan labor provided by the Sultan. With heavy anti-air defense and Spanish garrisons, the bases were ideally located the support the other side of Gibraltar, as well as giving the Bourbons the ability to strike shipping as far as the Canary’s and Madeira. In sync with a massive Spanish fortification of the rock following the French removal of the British and the inept surprise Australasian attack (which was followed up by massive anti-sub sweeps to ensure it would not happen again), the move would give the Holy League a lock on the Western Mediterranean.

Additionally, a Bourbon friendly Morocco was something Louis-Auguste and Philip could not pass up, seeing as it was in the dead center of the theatre where their armies struggled desperately for victory. The Field Marshall would, after co-operating in the Sultan’s rescue, exponentially arm the Moroccan state, and the Spanish troops would provide training for the Sultan’s men. This was a request of Antoinette in particular, as she was the sister of Louis-Auguste and daughter of Louis XX she saw the writing clearly on the wall: a strong, royalist Morocco would be in a position to finally crush the Sahawari ands its terrorist master network the Polisaro forever. This was important because with the resurrection of French Equatorial Africa a thriving leftist group that was well organized posed not only an inherent danger, but a mortal threat by its ability to work with France’s and ultimately Spain’s enemies. Tacitly included in the deal was the fact the Sultan, after being freed and armed with a decent army would crush the dangerous organization en masse, and provide a bulwark and ally to both Spain and the burgeoning French colonies in Western Africa which it would ultimately abut.

As the final move to show their friendship to the Sultan and promise of alliance and aide to him His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste invested him with the Cordon Blanc of the Ordu du Saint-Michel, a ultra elite knighthood in France.

Senoria de las Fuentes picked up his satellite phone, and as required got in contact with the Sultan’s man to inform him all proceeded as planned:

“Su Majestad, nosotros aqui.”

Versailles

Following the agreement between Morocco and the twain Bourbon states His Most Christian Majesty’s Prime Minister M. de Maurepas declared the following proclamation through the appropriate channels:

“For the duration of this crisis, His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste in concord with his Spanish brother the Most Catholic King proclaim the Straits of Gibraltar closed to all naval passage. No ship outside the Holy League and its allies shall pass the Pillars of Hercules until the British and Australasian governments agree to halt their offensive efforts. The one and only exception to this ban is ships flying the Red Cross or Christian charity standard on missions of mercy, but these too shall be subject to search before passage. ”

“With both sides of Gibraltar now in the heart of the Holy League’s sphere of power it would be fatal for any ship to attempt to lift this doom.”

With new of the closing of the Strait of Gibraltar hitting Quinntonia like a slap in the face, the Carrier Battle Group Mark is ordered to sea to rendezvous with the rest of the vaunted Sixth Fleet, and they are ordered to form into a staggered aggressive posture, then set sail for the Strait, with their entire rote registered with the French embassy that morning. They should arrive in 3-5 days.

WWJD
Amen.


Each Carrier Battle Group is named for a Biblical Character and is organised thus:

2 Nimitz Class Aircraft Carriers (85 aircraft each)
4 Ticonderoga AEGIS Cruisers
6 Arliegh Burke Class-guided missile destroyers
4 Oliver Hazard Perry Class
8 Las Angeles Class Attack Submarines
3 Sacramento Class Supply Ships (1 Outfitted as Hospital)

There are a couple of exceptions to the class of the Carrier, with some being Kitty Hawk Class or Enterprise Class, and one CVN-21 Supercarrier, now called the Jesse Obed Class.

Sixth Fleet: Mediterranean Sea
Assets:
1 Carrier Battle Group, including:
Mark (Based in Geata, Italy- John F. Kennedy and Kitty Hawk Class)
2 Ticonderoga Class AEGIS Cruisers
2 Arliegh Burke Class Guided Missile Destroyers

((Quinn, I had meant to include you with Red Cross and Christian Orgs, it slipped, I thought I had put it. Perhaps after you read this post you can see where my mind was, consider it amended. Well then, Walmington and Australasia, here it is, the long expected party. I should remind all other parties that this is only two days into the battle, and therefore no one else need be involved in a direct IC response to this, if you catch my meaning, Mr. Frodo.))

The time for play is long since done,
I’ll see all dead, or the battle won;
For this mortal coil is a passing thing,
all glory to the Most Christian King.

Le Marechal de Gras du Mont, Commander of the Grand Fleet, quoted as he engaged the battle.

Gladiator in arena consilium capit.
The gladiator is making his plan in the arena.

Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, June 14th, 2:00 a.m.

Two solid walls of missiles rained down upon the Grand Fleet, coming in sporadically and alternatively heavily in through the night. Like their enemies, the Bourbon Phalanx systems lit up the night sky, and the resulting clouds of smoke from the guns, spitting fire like dragons, enshrouded the fleet.

Le Marechal de Gras du Mont serenely observed the battle, now into its second day. This attack was expected, in fact, he had banked everything he had on it.

He was in the keep like superstructure of the French flagship, the Cherbourg class super-battleship Roi de Soleil. The unlucky Marseilles class light cruiser Hound was knocked out, and began to circle hopelessly. Like a magnet she attracted cruise missiles, after two made it through they began to slam into the hull. The third in command, the scion of a lordling house, still alive, abandoned ship. Being an officer, he went first, the men jumped into the ocean as he sped away in a motor boat in panic alone and screaming insanely. Seconds later the Hound circled right under the ocean, going down to the bottom like a corkscrew. Up went a Spanish frigate, taking four missiles at once, not one soul lived and only tatters of iron sank. Corvettes and picket ships, designed as cheap torpedo and anti-sub vehicles, took the worst of it really…but when the small crews of ten heard the buzz of a locked incoming several ton missile, they took to the water like ducks, and lets just say the French and Spanish know how to conduct a reverse offensive quickly and to the point. Losses were by no means meager, and pain was felt.

The exertion of Walmingtonian and Australasian missiles forced the entire fleet into a massive, complex, and gear grinding series of evasive maneuvers. As the Roi de Soleil warped and groaned to a sharp turn at thirty knots, a rooster tail flying nearly a hundred feet in the air and the three nuclear powered propellers spinning for their lives as the Phalanx systems turned out smoke and dragons flame le Marechal smiled, through the deck was askance 30% while he gripped the railing white knuckled. Alarms rang and whistles blew; then le Marechal calmly gave the order.

As he did so, a Walmingtonian cruise missile made it through the defensive screen, and impacted against the superstructure. The 30% slant bounced, and le Marechal saw the deck give way beneath his feet. And though the battleship took such a hit in stride, leaving only a charred black hole in the reinforced steel, had the missile been a few feet higher the Grand Fleet would have lost its command. But God did not determine such was to be the case for the Glorious 12th of June.

The wild missile attacks, launched by the Anglos and their lackeys with abandon, had resulted in a consequence. For as described earlier, the Grand Fleet had been forced into seemingly sporadic and random evasive action by the Brits and Brats. But it was not sporadic, and le Marechals orders though the night carried the evasive action into a ballet of strategic planning. I tell you truth, it was the finest hour in the history of the French Navy heretofore. Years and years of planning had been devoted by the Admiralty to such a mega-ship battle, years and years of steady doctrinal improvement and piles of wealth preparing for this one single occasion while administrations shifted and changed in the liberal west like so many rotten limes and lemons.

As dawn broke and the enemy bombardment ended the Grand Fleet came together in the face of their enemies like a deadly Rubix Cube, and they beheld their awful mistake: the Grand Fleet was not scrambling in a massive attempt to retreat. In five minutes their radar and satellite systems would inform them, like a laser beam, the battle line of the Grand Fleet had separated from the support ships and the carriers, and was now barreling down on the rear of the Australasian fleet too fast for the Brats to pull away. All the carriers, Spanish and French, were launching everything they had.

Le Marechal de Gras du Mont, for only the second time in the French Royal Navies History, had Crossed the T, and in doing so shone in glory. His warships like a pack of starved lions descended in eerily fine formation of his fleet, while the British had been cut off and forced to connect with their lapdogs.

And so the real battle, the dismantling of the Australasian surface fleet, was under way.

Far from the battle line now, the carriers with their picket ship began the general attack. Sailors waved their hats on deck in salute, similar to the Japanese ‘Bonsai!’, as Rafales, French and Spanish, screamed off deck. Priests blessed each jet as they vaulted away from the carriers, their robes flapping in the howling wind as they made the sign of the cross, and straight into a mad attack against both the Australasian ships and their escorts. The Grand Fleet launched everything it had against the Australasian’s, and soon six squadrons of the best fighter pilots in Spain and France, their black visors like a knights helmet, made the charge with lances leveled. The only ‘smart’ missiles used would be for anti-air combat…all the anti-ship ASM missiles were ‘dumb’, but being dumb the Australasian ships damned efficient Phalanx systems would have no homing signal to lock onto…they would be naked.

The Commander of the Grand Fleet was informed by flash signal that Admiral Cervera and his line of Spaniards were in lock step with the French. Le Marechal’s eyes began to wax wild then, staring as a fire grew behind them at the horizon, excitement began to coarse through his body as the strategic planning fell away to the rumble of Aries beat.

“Order the General Attack, fly the signals, all batteries to set range…Monsieur de Guize, I want everything this fleet can muster,” no sooner had he spoken than his commands had been relayed. Trumpets blasts racked the Grand Fleet’s PA systems as sailors ran to their tasks feverishly.

The flags of battle, as of yore, were raised high. Following the trumpeted orders, the PA systems began a loud steady drone of the fife and drum march A world turned upside down as all King Louis-Auguste’s men heard as they went into combat. As in the ancient regime and classical world, the music steadied the men and gave rhythm to the men in a time of shattering chaos. The fleet was now barreling down in a perfect loose form twin column line of battle on the solid rear of the Australasian fleet. Missiles had never ceased inbound from the pestiferous enemy, but the dangerous large volume assault of the earlier hours were done. So it was with anxious nerves, with missiles and dragons fire flying about them, that the melee commenced.

The center of Grand Fleet’s battle column consisted of the Cherbourg battleships HMCMS Roi de Soleil and Strasbourg. Between them these two super battleships contained the firepower of nearly a whole fleet, and were the shining pride of the French Royal Navy. They were assisted by the Roycelandian bought Dreadnaughts Bon Homme Royce and Titan, bought from the Roycelandian Empire in anticipation of a pacific war that never happened. Each one was equal to any battleship in the world, unless it was perhaps the Most Christian King’s Strasbourg line. Following them were Spain’s best combat ships, a line of three cruisers built for the Spanish at Brest by Louis XX, they were the Castellan class heavy attack cruisers HCMS Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria, the latter being Admiral Cervera’s flagship. Such a heavy armored battle line had not been formed since Jutland, and this formed against a fleet designed to support carrier warfare in the modern western style.

They were supported by seven French Marseilles class light cruisers, a French frigate screen of 12 Brest class vessels, and a Spanish force of some two modified light cruisers previously civilian ships, five standard light cruisers, and eight of their excellent heavier destroyers. Underneath, French and Spanish subs swarmed like attack hounds under their master’s feet. Some left to charge the Australasian fleet, some roved near.

They were so close now an Australasian anti-sub helicopter came zipping in, making straight for the Roi de Soleil’s bridge like a bat out of hell. Waves of machine gun fire dissolved the craft in mid air, but not before it used a torpedo to jet straight into the command ships bridge in a desperate attack of valor. It missed by a few meters, but it caused hell. Several reinforced windows, including the one facing the helm, blew inward, killing those sitting in stations next to them instantly. A pipe exploded steam, and shrapnel filled the room. Half the occupants died. More, different, alarms rang as crew rushed up to assist.

Le Marechal de Gras du Mont rose from the floor, some of his face was blackened with smoky dust. His tricorner hat was gone, his powdered wig disheveled. But his eyes now burned like miniature suns, and he was burning with excitement. He himself flew to the helm as wind came rushing in. Like the old sailor he was he screamed with gusto as his hands locked onto the ships wheel ‘A-HA!” and then called the ship to flank speed. He ordered his standard, three blue tridents on a field of gold., to be raised. Seeing he was alive by flag and radio after the dead on attack, the fleet rallied. Rooster tails grew impossibly high and the lions prepared to pounce, the monstrous guns of the central line, their men having got the ranges by Satellite, radar and optics, swung around into position as Phalanx systems blew away.

“Now, you bastards, I will teach you to meddle in the affairs of Kings!” howled the Admiral.

The last message sent to Versailles before the ferocious engagement was sent by the howling Comte de Gras to His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste personally:

Morituri te salutamus!

We, destined to die, salute you!

The Grand Fleet was well within range of the rear of the Brat fleet now, but cut forward and would go straight through them, pounding apart the carriers and sweetly vulnerable missiles cruisers while maintaining a voluminous fire against their ‘heavier’ ships, though in comparison the term was weak indeed.

Then the ranges of the center came in.

Twenty seconds before the heavy guns fired, the Grand Fleet in an act of vitriol launched another full wave of Exocets, in respective terms at point blank range, on their enemies. No doubt their gattling guns would get the majority or the lot of them, but the explosions so close would be delightful. Forty Exocet missiles zipped away.

Then, the admiral turned helmsmen-legend gave the order everyone had been waiting for since Louis XX began his assent in the 80’s and rebuilt the Royal Navy up proud. The gun lieutenant rang the bridge: “Monseigneur, verified range on Stormhawk, fleet confirms locks and sound range." With the march pounding away in the smoke of the launched missiles the PA systems blared de Gras’ command:

“Commence fire!”

It was HMCMS Roi de Soleil that inspired the commencement of the carnage.

HMCMS Roi de Soleil commences a full barrage against the Stormhawk (http://www.political-comedy-central.com/mil/Battleship.jpg)

The entire Grand fleet line opened up on the Australasians with their 14”, 12”, 11”, and 10” guns. Flame mightier than the Phalanx results roared like the Furies of Hell out of the huge cannons. All down the line the fleet pounded away, firing everything they had, and shells screamed down upon the hapless Australasians.

Phillipus Aerodrome, Lisbon

Having obtained a waiver from the Holy Catholic Church, the noble pilots of the Knights’ Errant Wing of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit, all 72 Mirage-2000’s pilots, received absolution for their sins.

On the tarmac, the Priest addressed all the kneeled pilots. Their elegant flight helms removed, all had bowed heads:

“Ego absolvo.”

“Amen,” came the massed reply.

The Wing was very likely going on a suicide mission. As all the craft rose above Lisbon and then zoomed away at near mach speeds like a flight of falcons flight technicians, devoted subjects of Spain and France, children and elders all bowed to them, kneeling besides the runways.

They, 72 Mirage-2000’s, were going to engage the British fleet with its advanced fighter defenders and numerous ship based weapons. To their credit they had dumb missiles to use against ships, when launched against the British would no doubt surprise them. As with the Rafales moving on the Brats, though, anti-air equipment would be smart and guided.

They had volunteered this mission for the King, and it was glorious. History, at least, would not forget them.

And so they sped away, making a bee line. The British would detect them easily enough, it was supposed. But with Mighty Christ and all the angels defending the right it was hoped some would get through.

They did, at least, receive their Last Rites.

French First Fleet, several hundred nautical miles north of the British Fleet

HMCMS Indomitable, twin carrier to the Charles de Gaulle scrambled its three squadrons of its Dassault Rafale’s against the British fleet. They too received the bow owed to heroes.

38 Rafale’s would hit the British fleet and their fighters the same time as the Knights’ Errant arrived, with the Rafales able to travel at several Mach speeds. Behind them, the French Fleet centered by the Cherbourg class battleship Louis XIV.

So it appeared the British had a wee bit of thinking to do. If they advanced they would be dealt an equal blow by the French Crossed-T. Neither could they at the moment link up with their cut off Australasian allies. Additionally, in the meantime, an assez grand force of ODSE fighters were incoming against them. To top it all off, if they did advance, they threatened being brutally flanked by the French First Fleet, and then would be crushed against the Grand Fleet and the First itself. Indeed, every minute they sailed forth, the greater the chance that the French might actually even be able to cut them off from England grew exponentially.

But, damn the British, who had obviously survived similarly excellent French plans in the past. Puton bleu!

In any affair, it will be recorded that at the greatest naval battle of modern times, the Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, the Bourbon, and especially French, Royal Navies had acquitted themselves in a military manner that approached sublimity. Moreover the entire French military, with their Spanish allies, given the overwhelming situation, can only be described with one word: valor.

No matter how the gods play their games, Le Marechal de Gras du Mont and his men will take their place in eternity.

OOC: W00t, Quinntonian carriers! I posted my response to the Morocco thing in the DC thread, please check it out when you have time.

IC:

Darwin, Australasia

"Load 'em up!" That was Reginald Bowson, a scruffy Air Corps major running the airfield in the early morning of June eighth. There was fog on the tarmac and coffee in the pot, and Brigadier Thomas Patrick Jameson was happy. As an Air Corps commander, he mostly sat around and did paperwork. At least the Navy boys sailed around, and the Army did maneuvers in the Outback or somesuch. The Air Corps just trained pilots and had their ranking officers do paperwork.

But now they were at war, and he was busier than ever. He'd been given the First Forward Command, and orders to proceed with all haste to Cyprus, where they were to make their temporary home at the Walmingtonian base on Cape Greco. One-hundred and forty-four aircraft-- AS-12 Cavaliers, A/F-18E Super Hornets, AS-17 Templars, some of the new Lancaster IIs and some twenty more support aircraft-- C-130 transports, AA-36 AWACS, JSTARS and refuelling aircraft and other, miscellaneous types composed his command. Some of his pilots were new, some veterans.

"Move your sorry arses," Major Bowson was yelling. Pilots vaulted into their aircraft, techs secured fuel tanks to the wings. BVRAAMs, AMRAAMs, ASRAAMs, Aborigine cruise missiles and many others were loaded into the waiting C-130s, as well as tents, building materials and plenty of other necessaries, such as bullets for the cannons and food.

Brigadier Jameson hoisted his pack-- what the hell did he care about decorum, packs carried more than briefcases-- and hurried out the door of his office. He snagged a little Cavalier model from his desk on the way out. It wasn't really his, but he liked it. Raleigh could afford to appropriate another one, he was sure. He hurried to the C-130 aircraft that was about to become 1FC One, flight plan in hand.

Once aboard, the Brigadier handed it up to the pilot.

"Micronesia, sir?" The younger man looked confused. "Not much in the way of runways out there." Jameson gave him an arch look. Micronesia was indeed the first stop on a long journey to Cyprus.

"Then don't spend too much time on the ground, else some fighter jock'll land his plane on you."

OOC: Watch me drop the ball. I totally missed NG's second post. Also, since when am I a sausage? ;) Also, isn't there a certain amount of confusion on the offsite forums about the Cherbourg's armour/armament/whatever?

IC:

Glorious 12th of June

Admiral Damascus watched as the French managed a surprising maneuver. They crossed the T, exploiting the momentarily divided Anglophone fleet's split. And then the hell began. Missiles from the French ships cruised in low and level at the Australasian lines, blowing away an attack destroyer and hitting the FCS Temeraire amongst the battlecruiser's superstructure, blowing away a D/P turret and scarring the deck. Other hits came in as well, one corvette sunk, two missile cruisers hit with moderate damage. The French and Spanish had broken the line, by God, and they were closing fast. Heavy guns from one of the French battleships* tracked the FCS Stormhawk, and the fire and the smoke was terrible. But it was just that, fire and smoke. For when the Australasians built a battle carrier, they built it for battle*.

The Stormhawk was designed to stand in the line of sail. She had a 295 mm thick armour belt, and while the shells created holes and scarred her dark-grey paint, the ship remained seaworthy as ever, if a bit slower. Her decks, largely safe from the enemy barrage, were empty. Every fighter was in the air, even most of the helicopters were dropping torpedoes like the one that nearly claimed the French Admiral's life.

But if one thing was to be said for the Australasians, it was that they had been taught well. The French officers, all powdered wigs and noble titles, studied their military history in academies, in schools and in manor houses. They learned the exploits of the English admirals, and here they mimicked Jellicoe at Jutland.

But the Australasians had learned well themselves. And Damascus would play Nelson that day, as he ordered his line to make full speed for the perpendicular French. The FCS Collingwood led the attack, her two forward 482.6 mm turrets (19 inch) trained their two triple gun turrets on the Charles de Gaulle, pristine white and orderly-lined. She was a beautiful ship, her hull was wide and stately. It looked oddly futuristic, with a large and impossible to miss superstructure dominating.

And the guns rang out. The missiles in the VLS tubes amidships belched flame and fired. Behind and slightly to port of the rest of the line, the previously wounded Temeraire fired her own missiles at the ship just forward of the French carrier. All down the Australasian line, the missiles flew for four ships, those immediately surrounding the Charles de Gaulle. And Damascus led the charge at thirty knots, closing the short distance between the fleets quickly enough. Those ships who could not train their guns, like the battlecruisers and many of the gun cruisers and attack destroyers, found their targets elsewhere.

The French line curled back to parallel the Australasians somewhat, and the mostly Spanish ships of that area were met with a hail of rapid-fire, high precision 6.5 inch gunfire from the DDAs, similar 9.5 inch guns off of the cruisers and any D/P guns which could be brought to bear.

34th Leader

Colonel Amundsen was loosening up. After the confused and somewhat disordered attacks, feints and counterfeints that had characterized the early battle, he was by now flying like a madman, alternatively skimming the ocean and dropping on the enemy from out of the midday sun. His first wingmate had taken it in the drink some minutes ago, he'd lived-- and was now being fished out of the freezing Atlantic by a medevac helicopter bearing the Red Cross. It was hoped that the French would have the honour to leave such a target alone as it did its work.

Amundsen himself had done fairly well. The Australasian fighters had been in the air as the French launched their full force, and the 34th came in high and dropped missile after missile on the Rafales and Mirages as they took to the air. In the ensuing smoke, he believed to have made a kill or two, but he could hardly be sure. After that little gambit, it had been a run back to the patchy clouds before he'd selected his next.

A pair of Rafales-Ms were skimming the ocean, bouncing from side to side as they came in low at the carrier Stormhawk, the target du jour of the French. At this range... he keyed up his AMRAAMs, noting that only three remained. One for the each, and then another before the day was out.

"Raider Six," he said to his wingman. "Two bogies, skimming on a vector for the Big Bird. Going in for an attack run." The Big Bird was an allusion to the carrier's name, an affectionate one which the pilots had bestowed upon their home base.

Amundsen rolled his maneverable fighter down from the clouds and trained on the two Rafales. He got a solid lock on the first, and then the second, as the French pilots fixated on their own targets. He pressed the button on his stick, and a pair of AMRAAM missiles roared out of the internal bays in which they had begun the morning.

With reports streaming in from the SDU to the Chancellory of the defeaning booms and shots of the battle fleet the first thing that they wanted to do was find out where Bismarck was.

Crovn von Homer Prince was talking to the Chinese diplomats so the newly appointed CiC (which went without much flair or pomp) Trugen's first idea was to call out ont he intercom "Where is Bismarck?". After a long silence 4 or 5 voices started speaking

-
"Vienna!""Russia!""Innsbruck"Washington!""D.C.!""Innsbruck""Berlin""Reichstag""Here!"-
In irritation Truegen turned it off and just simply pulled out his Cameroon and started sending an encoded message to Bismarck

-
"Where the **** are you?"-

So now somewhat concerned about the news he just hoped that the newly founded navy wouldn't be totally destroyed, it hadn't even reached the home port of Trieste and was no just getting around South Africa.

-
Reply To: Blank
From: Mailer-Deamon

Sorry, at the moment the Chancellor is no able to view the massage as he has turned his system to "sleep" mode.
-

Well since the Chancellor has deemed fit to run around the world without a care in the world it seemed that the burden was on him. The second he made that decision, another folded message appeared on his desk and he didin't need to have X-Ray vision to see that it was bad.

Opening it up he saw that Australasia had declared war on Morroco. Oh well, I guess we are going to have to do something, he thought to himself. All airfighters were scrambled, Sao Tome, Mauritius, Mauritania, Innsbruck, Vienna, Liechenstein, and were ordered to be on the highest alert. While the general armed forces where once again mobilized.

(OOC: I'm going to start with an overview of the British situation and what has happened so far. I especially wanted to make sure that the Australasians understood that the earlier bomber-based attack was intercepted by British fighters and virtually nothing of it would have been left to the Australasian defences. I can't remember if Aussie casualties were taken in that, but they should be negligible at worst)

The Atlantic

The battle had been intense, stressful, and expensive in fuel and munitions, but Longworth's fleet was clearly faring the best of any involved, and there was no sense complaining about feeling tired when the Australasians were taking the brunt of League fire, and the Franco-Spanish forces were on the receiving end of Britain's own firepower. If you were tired, it meant you were alive.

A dozen Super Harrier had intercepted Flight Alarcon, demonstrating the Walmingtonian answer to the Holy League's more obvious wide-scale militarisation, surprising the Spanish with a new generation of beyond-visual-range air-to-air missiles at ranges sufficient to disrupt their attack, if not entirely defeat it.

The squadron had then swept down on the missiles that were loosed on course, having a substantial distance over which to chase them, downing many with 27mm cannon fire as they approached the British ships, IFF measures enabling the fleet to join in putting the missiles in a vice. The twelve remaining Super Harrier on CAP over the eastern arm of the fleet fell down to intercept with ASRAAM, killing better than twenty more of the pursued missiles before shipboard defences had even begun to operate against a much reduced threat still tens of kilometres out and watched by dozens of radar from all angles. Two dozen fighters soon ran out of cannon rounds or time as they hacked at the difficult targets and were forced to pull out as the destroyer screen took up the fight.

With almost seven hundred BAe-Chaspot PAAMS missiles launch-ready in the eastern arm of the fleet alone, supported by scores of lesser missiles and countless close-in guns, the remains of the attack are as nothing. Anything that flukes its way through the first hard-kill grid faces confusion by the new Siren radiating decoys and is compelled to its own ruin like so many men of ancient Greece. As the last few of Alarcon's missiles zipped off left and right they were, for certainty's sake, plucked from their wayward courses by Evolved Goalkeeper CIWS markedly superior to the Phalanx set-ups used by other combatants in this June clash, and by the short-range missiles of the fleet's Duke Class frigates. The closest that any came to humbling the grand fleet passed as HMS Glorious showed her belt, steaming across the scene in the moments following the PAAMS lauches, covering a few hundred metres as the missiles covered twice as many thousands, and directing her Goalkeeper to intercept the last warhead, which was shattered in flight and continued in ruins to cause a pattering sound as fragments smered the battleship close to the waterline.

Bourbon's best thrust was parried by the incomparably mighty sabre of the Royal Navy, which ably delivered a riposte to the French even as Spanish steel fell from hand.

Yes, while two dozen of the Fleet Air Arm's finest had engaged Alarcon and its attack, eight lingered over the western arm of the British fleet, and an infuriating seventy-six chased ghosts, twenty-four had met the Ordu du Saint Esprit. Steeds from Queen Elizabeth III, they had deployed in the second to last wave and flown to the eastern flank to take-up CAP after Alfred the Great and Godfrey Grâce à Dieu launched their all against Alarcon and the dastardly ploy attacks, and peeled-off when the big signature of the long-watched bomber force began again to move from Andalucían skies, replaced over the fleet by the final wave of fighters from their mothership.

The French, then, had been put to the new sword as the Spanish before them, facing twice the number of the world's top air-to-air missiles as they had bombers, and another each for the almost equally vulnerable Mirage escort.

The strategic bombing force attempting to attack the Good Godfrey and the Aussie Stormhawk never really had a chance, and even where it managed to get missiles away it was only to see them fallen-upon by enough ASRAAM to leave too few Exocet to be confident of sinking a single carrier even if no shipboard defences were put-up and no Australasian effort at all.


(OOC: It's about here that NG stepped out, so now I'm shifting from what's already happened to what's happening now)


The Royal Navy had reached the early hours of the 14th quite unscathed and having delivered considerable damage to the enemy in three directions. It had cost tens of millions of pounds, but money well spent and a cheap price for the reward in enemy expenditure.

Nimrod, MASC, and Sampson radar brought updates in Australasian strikes against the feudalists. Longworth would have been elated to hear of one of his cruise missiles hitting Roi de Soleil, only he hadn't launched any, and instead was celebrating a suspected Australasian hit with only marginally less enthusiasm.

Seventy-six strike fighters had returned to the British carriers, coming from the east after discovering the ploy that kept them from hitting the enemy while their comrades defended the two air strikes, almost during the fighting, many taking up CAP as the interceptors were brought back to be fed and watered, so to speak. During the night, as the British fleets drew together, it was even possible to rest some crews, for a short period, while the three carriers went through a process of simultaneous launch and recovery of some hundred and thirty-two strike fighters.

Longworth, up most of the night, watched, content, as the French scattered and regrouped, muttering through one of his yawns something about Hastings. The British, with considerable assets at their disposal, shared information with the Australasian fleet in close to real-time.

The British Admiral wanted to put his large fighter strength to helping his allies, clearly unsettled by seeing them close with the French. That they should have to do virtually alone, for the Royal Navy was -with some exceptions- primarily not one of gun and armour, and Longworth had conducted his fleet movements throughout the engagement so as to avoid close contact with either French force in the theatre. Indeed, during the night, the British had continued to drift west, in general, edging a little on the north-south axis as it appeared to suit in avoidance of being caught between the Franco-Spanish fleet and the French First Fleet coming from the north.

The approach of French fighters from shore and ship put paid to any serious thought of dispatching major airpower to support Damascus, however. Finally, the Walmingtonians were approaching a fight worthy of the Royal Navy, having this far shrugged off pretty determined League assaults without suffering injury.

Longworth looks to the defences

Rested, rearmed, and refuelled, Longworth's birds were heading back into the air, launching from the three fleet aircraft carriers known fondly as Good Godfrey, Alfie, and Betty. They had time, glad of the large flight decks and both short and vertical take-off capability, and the large distances involved, then, of course, the time taken to form-up large air wings was no more handicap to the British than to the French.

The fleet's aircraft had the French narrowly outnumbered, and, given the scale of French recruitment and the losses of recent years, probably had slightly the better training and skill. Their machines gave lower signature returns and, most significantly, their armament tended to be a generation superior. They also had possibly better intelligence support. All advantages that made the fight a likely substantial British victory, but nothing to convince anybody that it would be like the previous day, when everybody came home safe, not by a long shot. And, Longworth felt, this wasn't really an attack designed to knock him out of the war, more to keep him temporarily out of the fight being brought to Admiral Damascus... there was nothing he could do about that.

Super Harriers from Alfred the Great and Godfrey Grâce à Dieu prepared to face the Mirage with a serious advantage, acquiring targets first and launching missiles first, if nothing unexpected happened. The machines carried four missiles internally and two short-range weapons on the wingtips, dispensing with under-wing stores for the sake of speed and signature-reduction, and the because of the fuel-inefficient take-off made by most of the scrambling interceptors.

As the Walmingtonians shared target data provided by a few aircraft in the vanguard, seeking by their reduced numbers to further stealth, they were able to launch two Meteor against every Mirage, where upon they peeled off, left and right. The British had come just within the estimated range of the enemy's best weaponry, inviting them to return fire. But, while the Mirage were deep inside the Super-Harrier/Meteor no-escape zone, meaning that they had no choice but to face the on-coming weapons that would approach under power at Mach 4 even in their terminal phase, the fleet's interceptors were pulling back from a point that was already close to the edge of hostile reach, making it perfectly likely that any counter-fire would be evaded.

The Mirage were slightly faster than Britain's Super Harriers, and, in theory, could sprint after the withdrawing interceptors and close the gap to a range in which their inferiority was much reduced and the British almost as vulnerable as they. But, to do so would mean for every Frenchman a closing speed above Mach 6 with two highly agile missiles, and no ability to take evasive action without blacking-out and ditching at a thousand knots, if not ripping his plane to bits. Leaving countermeasures to deal with the missiles might fool some of them, but the chances of any one plane fooling both of his attackers didn't exactly provide for a lot of survivors if the French tried to give chase in such a manner. Presently, the Walmingtonians came about, having hoped to put proper distance between themselves and the enemy once more as he tried to evade the Meteors. 'Lucky' survivors were to be targetted for a second round, the Harriers having rather more than a hundred long-range missiles left amongst them after the first deadly blocking play.

After this second round, the planes from these two carriers must begin to withdraw, defended by their ASRAAM missiles and any Meteor that were unneeded in the sortie. Following their aerial dance and hurried take-off, fuel reserves left only so much time on CAP for rear-guard planes while the first of them came in to land.

To the north, Queen Elizabeth III sent her fighters against the Rafale. This was more of a nail biter. Until the Glorious 12th of June battle, the Holy League hadn't previously experienced the power of Britain's latest submarine-launched torpedoes, Super-Harrier strike fighters, and BAe Meteor missiles. But the British were not totally comfortable with the prospect of facing Rafale. Sure that it was less than Britain's very best, nobody knew precisely how close it came, and pilots of the fleet's strike fighters couldn't help thinking that in some ways it was perhaps closer to being a thoroughbred than were their dressed-up pit ponies.

The two forces were closing, thirty-six Super Harrier and thirty-eight Rafale. Blood was set to rain from north and south. Then, at the height of tension as blips began to appear on aircraft-mounted radar displays, a new alert must have rippled through the French First Fleet and been passed on to their fighters. RAF Typhoon were closing fast from starboard, called-up to readiness in the Azores by Longworth as he'd charted the movement of French and Spanish ships during the night. If the qualitative difference between FAA Super Harrier and French naval Rafale remained unclear at the outset of this joust, nobody could dispute that the knights champion were those now closing from the west. They were fourteen in number, and armed to the teeth with ten Meteor and ASRAAM a piece. They and the Super Harriers let fly from west and south, crossing the Rafale in a mesh of missile trails.

It was a cautious battle, so far, from Longworth. He hadn't actually attacked at any point, refused to commit himself, and stood every chance of being accused by history of excess restraint while the Australasians went on the offensive. But his fleet wasn't set-up like those of the other combatants, and there was simply no point to being more direct when he had the edge required to bleed the enemy in a stand-off engagement.

"Let them dot their I-s, as well! We're not going anywhere!"
-The Admiral hears that the French have crossed his ally's T.

Still, this action could see the first significant British losses before it was over.

North

League fleets had been reinforced, and a whole new fleet was closing from the north. But they weren't alone in having reserves!

Longworth was east of the Azores. The French First Fleet was several hundred nautical miles to his north. North again lay, well, British home waters, more or less, and from them, behind the First Fleet, had come HMS King Athelstan at the head of the British relief fleet, steaming out of the Celtic Sea at flank speed to pursue the enemy.

Bristol-Siddeley-2000 vectored thrust engines sounded again as Sea Harrier 4 lifted from the carrier's deck. Eight of the strike fighters, laden with extra fuel and bearing wingtip ASRAAM for defence and each with two Sea Eagle anti-ship missiles under their wings. Four large escorts in the rear-guard of the First Fleet were to be targetted by four missiles a piece, the relief force, under Rear Admiral Sir Brendan Whyte, hoping at least to damage these vessels with the retro-'80s missiles and force them to slow down. Of course it was entirely possible that four Sea Eagles would rip a frigate or destroyer to bits, but for that to happen four times seemed an optimistic best-case, and the Rear Admiral would be happy to pose the French a choice: slow the entire fleet to remain with damaged escorts, or allow the Indomitable and the Louis XIV to continue without that defence, abandoning it to the sharks and charging exposed into an aerial battle that the British hoped to have won by the time the First Fleet covered the remaining hundreds of knots.

Whyte was desperate to make an impression. Sir Brendan was First Sea Lord under PM Bull and Elizabeth III, but had fallen from favour under the Tories and disgraced himself in sordid attempts to ingratiate himself politically with a leadership that, under Mainwaring, was being hauled-up on charges of economic treason and was muddied in corruption. Stripped of his lofty command, Whyte had been lucky to hold on to his knighthood, and swore to make the most of his reduced status in the Admiralty.

After the strike fighters took off, and a small CAP was assembled over his little relief fleet, Sir Brendan's helicopters prepared to sortie. They would not go, yet, but the fast Lynx did receive a load-out of Sea Skua missiles and awaited reports on the Harrier mission.

Reports on BBC News 24 were suggestive of a battle in which Gibraltar was being avenged by the continuing ruination of French and Spanish air power, soured by mounting injury to the hard-fighting Australasians, but this was early days, and people were already preparing headlines and generic words of sorrow and defiance for the worsening of fortunes that certain people almost seemed to be willing on.

All in all, the Royal Navy was conducting itself like the world's best, but even an impossibly flawless obliteration of Franco-Spanish power in the air and at sea wasn't going to change the fact that the British soldier was outnumbered several fold by his rivals on the ground, and wasn't going to free the continent unless it happened to be proof to the masses of the non-divinity of their masters. In fact, success thus far in the other theatres made army planners feel rather nervous about the fact that they couldn't imagine winning single battles against the Holy League without major losses, let alone a strategic campaign.

(OOC: Okay, that's a lot of extra rambling around the idea that I almost feel bad for how... good the battle has been going for the British so far, but without crediting undue stupidity to the best admiral we have (Longworth) (Whyte may yet make a grand cock-up, you never know) or pretending that the RN is less capable than I and TBF have already built it to be, there's not much I can do about that! So long as we keep away from those big-guns and don't sit off the French coast for a week, we're laughing. Oh, but sometimes I wish this were not so darn modern! I'd rather be in the line of battle, but we're not equipped for it!)

Edit: Just a minor screw-up with Whyte's rank.

OOC- Walmington, what reaction are you having to the mobilization of the Russian North Fleet to hover over the north of Britian? If any?


Just in case you misplaced the post, I will reproduce it here,

<QUOTE>Tsar Wingert has ordered his Council of War to make ready the massive preparations that have been taking place over the last several months. His entire Navy is ready to sail into battle should that be the only recourse.
But that is also the last thing that he wishes to do. He cannot afford to fight another world war, as he realises that no one will get away unscathed. He is afraid that most of the people currently involved do not realise the seriousness of what is involved in warmaking, and he would see that it didn’t happen.
However, a peacemaker cannot be respected without the ability to cause harm, and he was ready to show that ability, if not exercise it.
The Tsar’s personal Council of War orders the assembled Northern Fleet in its entirety to sail into the North Atlantic on “exercises.” This is to be a peaceful voyage and their position shall be broadcast at all times, to any nation wanting to know.

Their destination would be pre-broadcast, as they got underway out of their Northern ports, they would be taking up a patrol position, taking no aggressive posture, about 300 kms north of the Shetland Islands, right on the Prime Meridian, about the distance north of Trondhiem. They are making all possible haste to the area, and are cruising around the Scandinavian horn and south past the Arctic Circle very soon.

The Northern Fleet-
1 Kuznetsov Class Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruiser (Aircraft Carrier)
-updated to launch MiG-29
1 Kiev Class Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruiser (Aircraft Carrier)
1 Kirov Class Missile Battle
1 Slava Class Cruiser
5 Kashin Class Destroyers
1 Udaloy I Class Destroyer
10 Krivak Class Frigates
5 Grisha III Class Corvettes


At this time, the Baltic Fleet is put to sea, and placed on high alert, but they are ordered to only sail as out from the Gulf of Finland into the Baltic Sea, where they will stray no farther towards the Atlantic than Gdansk in northern Poland, well within the Russian sphere of influence.

Baltic Fleet-
1 Kraken Class Roycelandian Dreadnaught
1 Kuznetetsov Class Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruiser (Aircraft Carrier)
-updated to launch MiG-29
1 Kirov Class Missile Battecruiser
3 Slava Class Cruisers
10 Kashin Class Destroyers
5 Kara Class Guided Missile Cruisers <Destroyer>
10 Sovremenny Class Destroyers
2 Udaloy I Class Destroyers
3 Udaloy II Class Destroyers
10 Krivak Class Frigates
10 Grisha III Class Corvettes
1 Grisha IV Class Corvettes
20 Grisha V Class Corvettes
10 Tarantul Class Corvettes


This is done in the most public ways possible, with their courses registered that morning from their embassies in several nations, including UK, Australasia, and Quinntonia. France and Spain had already been informed.

Wingert includes in that dossier a plea signed by his own hand for cooler heads and peaceful talks. He presents himself as a calming influence in the Holy League and explains that he wishes peace and a beneficial diplomatic solution to this mess.<QUOTE>





This was made quite awhile ago, so I am going to assume that the fleets are in position as of now.


Tsar Wingert the Great.

(OOC: Ah, sorry, I think that I forgot about that. Well, RAF bases and the Submarine Service will be the most interested in this. For one, we simply haven't hulls enough to meet the deployment in kind... though the RN is probably twice as strong as in reality, it's still outnumbered by even the French, so we're throwing most things against them. Submarine warfare is generally considered a touch un-Walmingtonian, and/or I just don't know enough about it to use the SS offensively except in token actions (see Capt. Pike and HMS Ambush in the Bay of Biscay), so I've left a lot of that strength in and around British waters as an emergency last resort should Russia wade in. Mostly we're relying on the Tsar's fear of his neighbours and our good relations with some East Asian nations to see that we don't have to fight him, and giving it a healthy dose of head-in-the-sand :) Next time I post IC perhaps I'll kick up a bit more of a diplomatic stink (though we do think that we could probably dispatch the northern fleet with one hand tied behind our backs, and nobody in Whitehall really takes Russia very seriously, seeing it as a big muddy pool of oil, gas, and nuclear aid to France).
As to where the fleets are, well, I haven't read back to see when the decision was made to mobilise them, but our fighting in the Atlantic is only a matter of hours/pushing-days old, of course.
I have no idea how that turned into so much text, I hardly said anything!)

[OOC: I'm going to leave the majority of the naval battle to Nova Gaul, even my ships, but I'll respond to the interception of my aircraft, which should have no real casualties. I still don't agree with you not taking a single ounce of damage, and I think it's bad role playing etiquette and I suggest to Nova Gaul that he do the same, since we have very good close in weapon systems as well that can magically destroy three to four missiles at a time...somehow.]

Flight Alarcón
The flight leader twitched as his radar screen gave him the first signs of the incoming air to air missiles. But he didn't hesitate to warn his partners, "Incoming missiles, shake off at will."

The problem with beyond visual range missiles is that they tended to use all of their fuel up in flight, and then they would glide from the ionosphere down, meaning they had no fuel to manuever. Any that they had would be taken up quickly by any sort of manuever they made. Beyond visual range missiles were great for knocking out very large bombers, or even AWACS aircraft, but they were in essence very bad ideas for knocking out quick moving fighters - even those heavily laden by ordnance. And therefore, it was only a matter of minutes before Alarcón's birds had swept widely out of the way, gained a bit of altitude for future manuevers, and finished their launch of missiles and then turned back around.

Without Any Semblance of Peace
The Australasian occupation of the Azores had been done quickly, right underneath the noses of Spain, and the latter hadn’t even had time to notice. It was only obvious that there would be a lack of a response, and this achieved to make Spain nervous. Full occupation of Portugal had been an original objective and for the most part it had been completed. Spanish amour and infantry occupied mainland Portugal, while an ad hoc extension to El Tercio had occupied Madeira Islands, while fortifying the Canary Islands. Since the beginning of the war that general area, off the coast of Morocco, had been turned into literal fortresses, just as Ceuta and Melilla had, and now the Gibraltar – although with the local bombing this would take a bit more than expected, although full radar coverage had been achieved. Nevertheless, there was one yet elusive piece of territory that was not in Spanish hands and this was the Azores Island Chain. With no visible respite in the naval battle, or no clear dominance, it wasn’t sure if the Azores would be occupied after or not, and so Spain had to take separate decisions, and would have to take some sort of risk; calculated … or not. With Spain’s military potential, and already existing French assets the Holy League was in a position to deliver yet another blow to their enemies, and this time directly.

As said, the naval battle to the north was not going to end soon, and the outcome would be irrelevant to the upcoming land based military operation Spain would carry out. Spain’s aircraft industry had always been strong, and now it was amongst the strongest in Western Europe, perhaps only outclassed by France’s. Nevertheless, Casa had become as successful as ever, pumping out reconnaissance aircraft, transport aircraft and even some quasi heavy bombers. In any case, the naval battle north of the Azores, but not too far away, had probably worked to jam, very, very effectively, Australasian radar installations, and furthermore had most likely at least taken their attention. All this turbulence going on up there would all work to Spain’s clear advantage in seizing the main isle, although the operation would be reminiscent of Germany’s operation to seize Eben Emael, or even Crete.

The most important innovation by the Casa Company, relevant to the operation, was its new small, quasi-stealthy transport aircraft with extremely large fuel tanks. In fact, the design was made specifically for this type of operation after the Madrid administration had made it obvious that they had to be ready for similar operations to take the Cape Verde Islands, or if things turned bad, operations in Northern Morocco. What was originally for a different cause would now be used to regain Spain’s military prestige – something it had earned with the easy conquests of the Gibraltar and Portugal. Spain had perhaps thirty of these Casa 17.T aircraft, each being able to carry twenty soldiers with full gear. The most important characteristic of the plane was that it had enough fuel to reach any part where Spain was preparing operations and then sea-skim the last hundred or so kilometers [sea skimming, of course, relative to the size of the aircraft]. In this way it would ensure stealth for its troops while arriving. This was requested with priority by the military due to the threat of socialist radar coverage near the Cape Verde Islands, or European surveillance in Northern Morocco. With this said, the operation’s objectives became quite easy to see. Six hundred fully armed Spanish legionnaires would be airlifted in stealth to the Azores and they would storm the island while the Australasian aircraft were still making a bombing run to any random area of the world. The opportunity would finally come while the Australasian aircraft were returning from their bombing run from Morocco. At the very worst it would ensure that Australasia would lose all their aircraft on their island, and operations out of the Azores would be extremely disrupted. At the very best the Spaniards would take the island, and then they would be reinforced by various means and the entire island would become a floating fortress for Spanish aerial operations in the central Atlantic.

However, there was one important hinge that this operation rested upon, and that was the chance for peace. The conference in the United States would be the deciding factor in this war. France and Spain would sue for peace, and the United States was expected to settle this peace with whatever terms they pleased. Due to the terms the ‘allies’ would most likely refuse, or accept unwillingly. In the case of the former the United States was expected to take quite a belligerent tone against the ‘allies’, allowing a cassus belli for many nations that had not yet joined the Holy League’s cause. Taking the Azores would give Spain further leverage, but it had to be done before any peace was signed, and therefore velocity of operations was completely necessary. In other words, the troops had to be prepared to begin the operation at any time. Therefore, the pursuing days were used to stock Spain up with extraneous Aster batteries, anti-air artillery cannons, Leopard tank turrets, and Spain’s twelve upgraded M-107 artillery cannons [203mm]. These would be used to convert the Azores into the most fortified location in the middle of the Atlantic. In other words, the stage was already set.

[b]Two Weeks Earlier, Spanish Quartel General
The Chief of Staff of the Spanish military, Agüado, perused the operation plans stocked neatly in the manila folder in front of him. Brigadier General José Manuel Arcadio de la Rosa stood in front of him, keeping his eyes carefully leveled to a location on the wall on top of Agüado’s head. The chief of general staff simply memorized the most important aspects of the operation and then lifted his head to look at the general. He sat quietly, and the other man said nothing as well, and finally he said, “This is an interesting plan Josma, but do you really expect me to approve such a suicidal plan? You do realize that if this fails we have jeopardized the lives of over half a thousand men, correct? What advantages would this operation achieve us?”

The other man gulped, but all generals were used to such beating language when they proposed something to the man, even genius ideas. The Portuguese invasion plan had been criticized immensely, but it had finally gone through. José Manuel responded, “Sir, by taking the Azores we guarantee a very powerful tool in the upcoming peace process in the United States of America. The naval battle, as chances give us, will not come out totally to our favor, even if our French allies succeed with our given naval aid. In other words, our losses will outstrip those of the British by proportion, even if we lose fewer ships. We do not have the capability to replace and augment the number of ships loss, even if we wanted to. Therefore, any post naval battle operations to take the Azores will suffer from the fact that we will lack the shipping to use to get our men over there in sufficient numbers, and we will run out of time in relation to the peace process. Furthermore, the more time we give the Australians the more time they will have to fortify their position. Finally, the Azores are by definition ours. We must take them quickly to guarantee or name over that territory. Although, obviously, my operation takes risks that not many would call calculated, I believe they are of utmost necessity to ensure Spanish supremacy in the Western Mediterranean, and even the Atlantic Ocean.”

The general paused, and the seated man nodded and said, “What will we do if we succeed?”

José Manuel had already thought this one out, “We will use Casa’s huge transports, and our older American transports, to simply stock up the island with surface to air missile batteries, coastal fortresses and other heavy firepower which will make it implausible to take the islands from us. With a garrison of less than two thousand men we will create such a scenario that it will cost an enemy over ten thousand casualties to take the islands from us. This I guarantee.”

The chief of general staff arched an eyebrow, “And if they cut off air access?”

The general shook his head, “Impossible. We hold air superiority wherever we go right now, and in the future this will be even more so. Within two to three months the numbers of Eurofighters we have will increase almost five fold to over six hundred aircraft, and we will have over three hundred Rafael Ms patrolling our sea lanes from at least two carriers, and three if the Príncipe de Asturias survives the naval battle! We can even use our multitude of frigates to supply those islands. We have many options. The Azores will be the thorn in their sides, and we can use our diesel submarines to operate in the vicinity to sink ‘allied’ war material.”

This Agüado seemed to like, and he asked, “What do you think our chances of success are?”

“If everything goes as planned possibly ninety out of a hundred, or even possibly more, given our advantageous circumstances. The situation is right, and the operation will probably be launched in only a few hours, or at worst a few days.”

Agüado nodded, “Alright.” He took his stamp and gave it the red stamp of approval. The operation was set!

Operation ATLANTIC HAMMER
When Morocco sent the first warnings of incoming missiles on their territory Spain was ready to launch its offensive within minutes. For weeks her soldiers had been readying up every morning, in case of a flash notice of invasion, and it had finally come. Of course, they had been told that this was the 'real deal', and so they were all eager to finally embark on another campaign. With the past campaigns of victories morale was rather high and they were ready to complete their newest orders. It took around thirty minutes to get everyone in their aircraft, and the Casa 17.Ts took off quickly enough to get into a trajectory where they would arrive around fourty-five minutes prevvy to the arrival of the Australasian bombers, which would be enough to either destroy the airfield, or plant enough men with shoulder fired surface to air missiles to down the bombers as they landed. Eitherway, those bombers were not going to land. And so, six hundred Spanish Legionnaires, dressed in shades of bright and dark green, with spots of black, embarked on their journey to the central Atlantic.

The entire operation rested on the heavy fighting in the naval battle to the north, and to the fact that the Australians were expecting their own bombers from the south, and the stealth of the new design, as well as the low flight path they would be taking for the drop. Of course, they would have to gain altitude at the very end of the flight for the drop, but by then it would be too late for the Australians to react, and even if the transports were downed the soldiers would be well on the ground and very well armed. They carried light MANPADs, heavy field machineguns, and other heavy rocket artillery type weapons to make short work of the Australiasian occupation of the island. The C17.Ts were almost invisible against the night sky, and their low flight level made them equally as invisible to enemy radar detection. The entire ride took maybe an hour or two hours; nobody really counted the time - it made it last a lot longer. Some men simply slept, but most couldn't due to the drone of the engines besides their ears. Others tried to talk, but they couldn't hear their voices over the drone of the engines either. The majority simply sat there, bored to death, and they would get jittery when they faced slight turbulence.

Finally, it seemed like enternity, they had arrived to their destination. A light bulb at the far end of the aircraft suddenly turned red and most men turned their head to look, but made no major intention to get up. It was only when their commanders stood and yelled, "Attention!" that they really hustled to get up. They quickly locked into an overhead bar that would hold them up while the aircraft tumbled as it gained a bit of altitude, and then they prepared themselves for the jump. The single door at the front opened quickly and they could see the lights of the Azores before them. There were three landing zones, each given to two hundred men. One was on Pico, the other on Faial and the last on Sao Jorge. All three LZs were next to the airfields on all three islands, which were primary objectives. Their orders were to destroy these airfields and [i]then, and only then, proceed to take the rest of the island. They were also promised further support from four Spanish frigates making their way 'towards the battle zone' and first stopping to land around another one thousand legionnaires on the island. There were also rumours of support from now Spanish Lancaster II squadrons firing Russian made missiles.

The aircraft began to deviate accordingly, and soon the first drop was made. The red light turned green without warning and the commanders began to force their men out of the aircraft. Not much forcing was necessary, as most legionnaires were literally insane, and the sticks jumped out effeciently - the commanders went last. Blinded by the night the paratroopers landed on the ground safely, although some could hear chatter coming from ground guns awaken by the sudden influx of aircraft. Next to the airfield of Santa Luzzia, on Pico, the ten sticks converged into a group of two hundred men and they quickly began their advance on the strips. They set up heavy mortars, lacking howitzers [which would come later, as promised] and began to pound hangars and aircraft outside as caught by French, Spanish and Russian satellites. Similar actions were taken at the airfields of Velas and Castelo Branco, on Faial and Sao Jorge, respectively. It didn't take more than ten minutes for heavy fire fighting to begin between the awaken defenses, but it was likely that the Spaniards held the initial advantage, since it had been an utter suprise, and it was obvious that the Spaniards were using this to their complete advantage - hitting hard and fast.

This time it was time to remember that the Spanish Legion was rated the best fighting force in all of Europe. This operation would emboss them into the heights of military history, and would most likely surpass Crete as one of the most infamous paratrooper operations in history.

((I had time only to respond to the air fight with the British and the Australasian fleet dual battle. Many apologies. Don’t worry, Ill have a response for the Northern fleet assault up in a day or so.))

Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, Northern Theatre

Vulneratus sed numquam victus.
“Struck but never conquered.”

The British had sat, demurely, allowing other peoples, as was their sick habit, to do their fighting for them. Like fat bankers they hid themselves away in a seedy Piccadilly Pub, stuffing their pale faces with bangers and mash, guzzling sub-standard beer, and plotting a grotesque indirect domination of nothing less than the entire world community. Oh, yes, they were the Royal Navy. Oh, yes, they were Anglo gentiles. Oh, yes, they were allies secretly of the Progressive Bloc. And oh, yes, for all this things the French would strike them with a fury not seen since the outset of the war itself!

::Queues Flight of the Valkyries::

From the south came Mirages, from the north came Rafale’s, war now would be exchanged with the British like knights of old.

For the French pilots were knights, and of the Rafale’s the very best. British pretensions about the lack of Restoration France’s fighter corps ability would soon receive a brisk education…and it would not be given by some Cockney grammarian. Maybe the French and Algerian pilots tacking care of intransigent and backward African’s were fresh material, only months to the Ordu du Saint-Esprit. There were no ‘maybes’ when it came to the carrier forces, however, they were the very best aviators in France, with years of experience in several different conflicts. It was the Rafale’s that would give the saber first, closely followed by the Mirages sweeping in from the south.

On Skeggjöld, on Göndul, on Reginleif! Onwards, bloody Valkyries, to ride with thunder of doom and lighting from heaven against the enemies of God. Gods Lieutenants have ordered it, you terrible demonesses, now unleash your havoc!

The Rafales' scream apart in perfect formation, 12 breaking off flawlessly to engage the Typhoons, quickly closing. The British would realize as the Rafales’ spun apart and chaff deployed that they had seriously underestimated their opponents. With their bodies designed especially to be hard for missiles to tack down, the 12 Rafales’ scream at mach speed directly at the Typhoons, at much closer range launching a missile volley of their own. The pilots would fly for all they were worth, hopefully making up for any technological gaps by sheer willpower…although against the Typhoons the worst can only be feared.

The remaining 23 craft directly engage the Super Harriers. The French pilots use every ounce of skill they possess, fighting like wildcats. Against the hated British, for whom they have several centuries of history to atone for, it comes with vigor and relish. The sleek black Rafales’ zip about and engage at close range after the knights of both sides no doubt exchange their first missiles.

In the south the Mirage 2000’s engage the Super Harrier force with equal zeal, although their craft are clearly inferior to the Rafale they are a full wing of 72 craft. The Mirage’s do come roaring in, Meteor’s score several kills before the Mirage’s themselves unleash their missiles in turn.

Then the British would notice that one squad, twelve craft, roared at maximum Mach speeds past them, howling directly towards the British fleet. With the intense attack from the remaining Mirage’s, indeed, it would be nearly impossible for the Harrier force to break away and hit this force.

Making the sign of the cross before their craft seem to go subliminally fast in a last heroic charge they spray their modified ‘dumb’ ASM against the British carrier, Godfrey Grace a Dieu, the vulgarly named ship! 48 missiles, dumb and impossible for the no doubt terrified Walmingtonians CIWIS systems to lock onto, careen towards the British carrier. And then the British would be shocked again…the Mirages followed the missiles they launch, accelerating at maximum speed against Godfrey’s namesake, and giving the limes a furious number of targets.

The French fight courageously, they fight furiously, and in the end they fight desperately. Every single ounce of strength is expended in the mad mayhem, every single ounce they have given for the protection of the King and motherland. Never in the annals of history had the French ever engaged the English in such a onslaught, and those who laughed at the courage of France would necessarily weep, moved beyond belief at the sheer valor of it all.

Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, Southern Theatre

With one squadron of Rafales’, 32 of the remarkable craft, and with a Wing of ODSE Mirage 2000’s, the French, albeit desperately, had managed to stave off for a precious few moments nearly the entirety of the British Fleets offensive power.

The Australasians found themselves cut off from their allies. They found themselves faced with not 32, but 160, of the incredible Dassault Rafales, flown literally the best pilots and quality peers in the Royal French and Spanish air forces outside the monarchs’ crack fighter escorts. They found themselves with their lines crossed, and the majority of the Bourbon’s, French and Spanish, heavily armored surface fleet raking fire against the interlocked and close range armadas. The Australasians had fighting mettle, but literally no modern naval force in the entire world had as many heavy line ships as the Holy League, and of the Holy League none more so than France and Spain. Five Nantes class attack subs had a field day firing waves of torpedoes at the Australasian carrier and battle cruiser, with three defending the French and Spanish ships.

It was therefore only a matter of time before the expert Rafales smashed the Australasian fighters to dust, before sweeping down en masse with deadly dumb missiles against the Anglos lackey fleet. The heavy line, two Cherbourg class battleships, two Roycelandian bought dreadnoughts, three heavy Spanish Castellan battle cruisers, and dozens of light cruisers and frigates all designed specifically for this sort of combat dished out a withering fire equal to at least 8 times what the Australasians could muster, and at close range against their scrambled and targetted line.

The British might take a wretched toll against the valiant French delayers, but the French would in turn reap a smashing victory against the Australasian surface fleet. Indeed, it would be a miracle if even one Australasian ship made it into retreat without a 12” shell having destroyed some part of it, or having had a Rafale spray several missiles against it.

And one thing was certain, if the Australian ships, those who survived the barrage whose likes had not been seen since Jutland, and this at close range against a modern surface fleet, did not quit the line, virtually the entire Australasian fleet would be annihilated by the time the British would be able to even raise a finger.

Messina, Sicily

As the Spanish Tercio Legion made their dashing strike against the foul democratic encroachers and the Bourbon fleet dished out the largest attacks in either France or Spain’s naval histories Holy League rule was proclaimed on Sicily.

Two divisions of Gardes Francaises paratroopers at the very opening bouts of the war had landed on the already Holy League sympathetic island. The Sicilians, in stark contrast to other theatres, enthusiastically welcomed the French troops. In weeks, Sicilian volunteers were being trained by the French troops and armed with FAMAS rifles.

The staunchly Catholic land, already linked to a Holy League allied Italy to boot, went over to the French side eagerly. Then, in what would come as no surprise, Sicily was proclaimed an independent Kingdom.

Le Duc de Normandie, having returned from the brutal African theatre, was in a dual ceremony married to his several year secret mistress the ravishing Sicilian born actress Monica Belucci and together with his new wife proclaimed they were proclaimed King and Queen of Sicily. In the grand cathedral of Messina, at a positively sumptuous ceremony compared to the coronation of Leopold I in Cote d’Or with full orchestra and choir, the Grand Almoner of France Cardinal Louis de Rohan crowned Normandie Amadeus III, King of Sicily and defender of the faith. His wife was crowned as Queen Monica.

Sicily went over the French side with abandon, proud and intoxicated at their new royal couple. Two additional French divisions were slowly and safely brought over the western Mediterranean by former commercial liners requisitioned for military use. With Amadeus III, the decorated war hero, and his ravishing and loving wife Monica, it was expected the Sicilians would be able to have an equal number of men under arms ere long.

Before the foul invaders broke into the western Med, they would have to crack the zealous and garrisoned of Sicily.

Paris

The zealotry of the Sicilians was no surprise: in all fields of combat, the one the French had been most successful in was the propaganda war.

It was now unquestionably World War III. With the rising escalation, the Bourbons had deftly managed to turn what began as an ill disguised grab fest into a defence of Catholic, Continental European civilization. After all, godless democracies and evil communist forces were poised to attack the African liberation effort. They would not stop there, probably true and surely so according to the propaganda, but if they managed to defeat the Holy League forces would break through, and sack Europe.

The Papacy would fall, destroyed by the socialists. The wives and sisters of Catholic Europeans would be taken by force to serve in the brothels of China, with the boys pulling rickshaws for Igovians. Christianity would be stamped out forever, the anti-Christ was here.

In a word, it was Armageddon, the Day of Judgment was at hand. Catholics were called to build a Fortress Europe, and defend it to the death, in doing so securing martyrdom, against the demons poised to sack Christ’s children. Total war was called for, a bitter fight to the end would be waged. In a joint statement, His Catholic Majesty and Most Christian King issued the following phrase:

“They shall not pass.”

Another propaganda effort went on line several days after the outbreak of war in the City of Lights: Paris Rose. Her silky voice reiterated what the harsh propaganda said with hip music and subliminal messaging. Broadcasting in the Holy League, and bombarding especially England, flooding the airwaves, with her signal, Paris Rose proclaimed immanent victory for the Bourbons and Holy League, and immanent doom for the communist and their front groups horde.

Zarah Leander, an attractive singer who worked for Paris Rose scored a number one hit, a propaganda song, which swept the charts in Holy League nations and was no doubt even catchy to the radio bombarded west. There will be a miracle, one day was a deep and moving song. It broadcast for hope ahead “There will be a miracle, one day, I know, and a hundred thousand more just like it” with propounding rhythms and heavy notes, bringing tears and hope to fully engaged France and Spain…indeed the entire Holy League. It moved the soldiers to fight, for a miracle ahead, and encourage the civilian population to obdure, against all unrighteous odds against them. No one knew what the miracle was, but the incredible music promised them it was just ahead.

And so, with Zarah Leander’s sweet voice propelling the Holy League onward, they dug in and fought World War III like hell.

With all of the invasions and clashes over the world Austria is really not looking to get involved yet at the same time keeping it un-involved by choosing not to ask for a contract bid will weaken it if it ever needs to actually do something.

This is a OOC rant that can be converted into a IC if you want, a third person point of view for Austria if you will.

Austria is looking to get Eurocopters, lots of them. In a move to refurbish a lot of the lagging military, we are trying to get our assests all keyed up and expanded. So just for an Moorington copy-writed total switch from something to another something: Maccebbes, are you still exporting me (100?) of the Leopard 2: Spain Editions to me? Or should I need to go to the almost fanatically anti-HL Germany ;) . I mean that in the best way, I assure you.

Now all the way back to the Eurocopters, by the way, I think I am going with the German version of the Eurofighter Typhoon, I think (or I could just be confusing it with the Eurocopter) Germany's is slightly different than the base model and is a more multi-functional aircraft. Yes, this could be some demi-god modding my Eurofighters to be German edition look a likes but you need to give me some credit for finally defining a specific design, even if you could've thought I just used the basic model.

Back to the Eurocopters, once again I am going to let my army Eurocopters be influenced by Germany by making my look a likes if not out right copies. Actual name is quite long and tedious, no vowels beside O, regular German.

As for the Eurocopters, I would like 400, would that be okay? While actually quite a lot, Germany only ordered a dozen or two more than that, I do need that many and I think I need one of you "guys" (Spain?, France, Germany, and/or Italy) to export them or sell me the rights to build them within Austria.

The whoevers who make the Eurocopter would be delighted to actually get some more deals beyond Australia, (Spain, Italy?) Germany, and France. So I think they would be happy, just need to have the elusive quality "goodwill" from the governments funding the compny in question.

((an unfathomable bump, posts done))

Morrington: What exactly do you mean by eurocopters, that company has a soem what large catalogue, are we talking Tiger gunships? If so i think the design was far enough along for both France and Germany to have access to it, although oen woudl ahev to wonder what you would actually do with 400 gunships. As for more utility/cargo orientated designs things get a bit tricker but i would imagine that the EC-145 (aka the BK-117) would be easily availble from germany.

Morrington: What exactly do you mean by eurocopters, that company has a soem what large catalogue, are we talking Tiger gunships? If so i think the design was far enough along for both France and Germany to have access to it, although oen woudl ahev to wonder what you would actually do with 400 gunships. As for more utility/cargo orientated designs things get a bit tricker but i would imagine that the EC-145 (aka the BK-117) would be easily availble from germany.

Ah, of course, sorry, Tiger gunships. Wouldn't make much snese to buy a little armada of G222s and then promptly turn around and get even more transportation, my little state doesn't need that much.

What I would do with 400 gunships.... Well that sparks tons of interesting content but for the moment content yourselves in knowing that the vast majority of them won't be seeing the battlefield as I still need to actually train someone on the proper use of them

[OOC: Morrington, yea, but after Spain released the Ocelot main battle tank, which is going to replace all current Spanish armour, whether they be French AMX-Leclerc replacements, Leopard 2A4s, Leopard 2A6s, or even my older M60 upgrades. Spain also produces indegenously the Eurocopter Tiger and the Eurofighter Typhoon.]

OOC-ly, I have some concerns about the Cherbourg as a realistic warship, but that's me. More Walmington's department, really.

The Glorious 12th of June

As soon as Damascus had seen the long and ponderous Franco-Spanish line begin its maneuver, he had ordered flank speed, line ahead for the entire Colonial fleet. From the mast of his ship flew the famed signal, 'engage the enemy more closely', as the whole surface fleet began its death-or-glory advance.

The French might find their stalwart belief in the superiority of their warships comforting, but the Victory class battleship of Australasia was the equal to a Cherbourg in every way. Nine nineteen inch guns dwarfed those of the Francofascist vessel, eight anti-ship dual missile launchers and forty VLS tubes rounded out the offensive armament of the ship. Thick armour plating wrapped the vessel, protecting her from harm.

And it was the FCS Victory herself that led the charge, guns and missiles blazing at the French carrier. Shots scored her side, but at the angle of deflection so prescribed, the guns of the Leage's heavies were increasingly forced to track further down the Australasian line. Immediately behind the Victory was the Stormhawk, strangely placed in line-of-battle, but holding her own as the electronic and countermeasure-filled vessel that she was.

The French, for all their intense desire to see the Atlantic Fleet's lone carrier sunk, found their torpedos tracking countermeasures, their sonar flooded with white noise and their radar placing the Stormhawk in eight places at once. Within visual range, it was hardly a revolutionary or battle-changing tactic, but when every single medium to light vessel in the Australasian line began simulating the auditory, radio and radar characteristics of the carrier, submarine captains would no-doubt find themselves most confused.

The Franco-Spanish fleet was on a perpendicular vector to the Australasians, their long line making an arc that left the trailing Spaniards in line ahead, parallel to the Australasians. The latecoming Walmingtonians were sorely missed, but as the Victory broke the French line beside the badly holed Charles de Gaulle*, eventual success seemed within grasp. Damascus was still on his bridge, although the smooth paint job completed before deployment had become rather seriously worn. The bow of his ship was a mangled mess, but all turrets still fired and the screws still turned.

Behind him, the FCS Stormhawk passed her flaming gallic sister, also much the worse for wear. Her deck was a mess of damaged runway and pockmarked skin. Landing on her would be exciting indeed, but Australasia's pilots were making the best of a bad situation. One Templar had met a damp end when it landed where the deck wasn't, but as yet no other losses had been reported from landing on the carrier. A few others had lost landing gear, but the aircraft made it home relatively safe.

Several corvettes had been sunk, and an Attack Destroyer was making unhappy looking circles in the sea as her crew abandoned her. An Escort Cruiser listed badly, struck by three lucky torpedos before the fleet began flooding sonar noise into the sea via countermeasure, buoys and the like. The two battlecruisers still came, although the Temeraire had lost her aftmost turret to a jam, and Q's magazine had been flooded.

The ODSE might be dismayed to realize that a young lordling did not a pilot make. There was something about the best airmen of all nations that came to them by birth, but it was certainly not a title and a landed estate. It was something much less tangible than that. Quick reflexes, due to a fortunate combination of genes. Mad bravery, perhaps from upbringing, perhaps from something more. Cocksure self-confidence in the face of danger, much like the last. To fly in the Naval Air Corps, you had to be the best. The Navy got the best of everything, aircraft, missiles, pilots.

Any enlisted man of old could tell you that titles did not generals make, and any Australasian pilot could say the same as they fought twice their number in the Atlantic sky. AS-12 Cavalier and Dassault Rafale clashed alike in the air, and the Cavalier almost always got off the crucial first shot. Even so, the fighting wings of the Naval Air Corps took heavy losses as the sheer numbers of enemy pilots launched their missiles.

Colonel Amundsen was one such, as his new fighter took a meteor in the wing. Fortunately for his continued survival, he had pulled the ejector seat as his last load of chaff failed to deter the incoming missile. The seat exploded beneath him as the cockpit exploded around him, and he was sent rocketing into the air before his parachute deployed. After the cloud of flame cleared, he raised his visor to watch the action.

France's fighter corps was hurt. They had taken losses as they climbed from the decks of their carriers, but how many he couldn't tell. They flew desperately, and not without skill. However, they were outclassed by the stand-off ability of the Australasian Cavaliers. As the range closed quickly, the advantage was mostly lost. But the pilots of the Colony were known throughout the world as hard drinkers, bad relations and savage pilots. For every pilot who lost his life, at least one Francofascist nobleman lost his own. The numbers were still with the French, but as the battle progressed the advantage narrowed.

Amundsen lost his view as he landed in the sea.

OOC:
*I don't think it has much armour to speak of. If it does... well, it might not be so badly holed.

OOC-

I am calling foul. I’m sorry, you have one battleship, no matter how good it may be, against 7. 7, that’s it. 19” guns are also unrealistic, ask Strath, I was called on that two years ago. Your completely outgunned. The French fighter corps, and the Spanish are not fighting you desperately, they are fighting the British so. You are massively outgunned at every single angle, and in the maelstrom you have time for anti-torpedo measures? Anti-torpedo measures when you have foolishly engaged at close range the strongest surface fleet on earth, and are getting 8 times what you dish out? I am sorry, I cannot post until this matter is resolved. Nothing against you, mon ami, but this is not working at all.

I visibly posted that the French carrier force, and their picket line, stayed well away when the battleships and escorts formed a line of attack. Its posted a few back, and therefore Bourbon’s carriers are out of your range. Unless in the hellish attack you managed to scramble a few, its doubtful though.

Ask anyone in AMW. Restoration France spent a disproportionate amount of money of their Royal Navy fleet, it was being built two years before you arrived here, and now everything is squarely directed against you alone. Your response was in no way realistic.

Probably ought to take this to the OOC thread and all.

((Sorry, the first part especially may be a bit long-winded, I've been sitting-up waiting for an important communication, and just tapped away at the keys to pass the time! It's all just about the progress of the aerial battles, and no new actions are added until the second headline, about Glorious.))

Battle of the Glorious 12th of June

Betty's birds closed with the most powerful enemy yet faced in a war that had already killed more British civilians than any since the Blitz, and, to the pilots, this was not a battle for glory so much as revenge. The atmosphere, fed by such motivation, lent itself of course to lame threats about making frogs croak. But the Meteors and the boxing-in of the Rafales by two British flights made for a defence that was anything but lame, and felt much more like an attack.

As a dozen Rafale peeled off, several banking straight into missiles from the Typhoons, or being pursued by those from the Harriers, twenty-three Rafale seemed a little less intimidating to the thirty-six Super Harrier, and the rest of their Meteor were soon away, thinning the enemy still further as he finally opened-up. By then, the elite foe was badly deficient in numbers, a couple of Britons to each Frenchman, but when each Frenchman is releasing a volley of Mica or whatever may be his missile of choice, there is only so much confidence that one can draw from such a quick calculation through his head-up display. Ah, but the enemy wished to close for a knife-fight, and was closing?

Command should probably have anticipated this from an enemy driven by glory and nostalgia.

The Super Harriers accelerated, charging, after releasing their under-wing stores, at something approaching a thousand knots into the enemy, letting go ASRAAM as they thundered across in a sudden dash enabled by their fantastically powerful Bristol-Siddelys. French knights were unseated as they sought close-in engagement, one really appearing to be thrown from his horse as the British lance struck his canopy with all the force afforded it by the pounding charge of the warhorse from which it was thrust.

Alas, as they came about to finally give close-in battle, the time taken to decelerate meant that the remaining Rafale finally had something of an edge, turning first and having a bare fraction of a moment to pick their targets before the British brought themselves and their 27mm Mauser cannon back to face the French. Still, the VTOL aircraft were impressively agile, and were too many for the enemy to engage every one amongst them. On the other hand, these canard-configured French steeds weren't exactly without grace, and the dogfight would be a Hollywood director's dream as hundreds of millions of dollars worth of modern, powerful machine and countless hours in pilot training joined the fight of a generation, that one moment where a man has to be at the best his lifetime will ever allow. Blinking, sparing a moment to think of home, a pilot on either side would have no time to regret the mistake.

German-made incendiary rounds spattered the back of a Rafale as the Fleet Air Arm flight leader emptied his magazine, coming out of a dizzying role that saw a short-range missile narrowly avoided, and mixed its trail with that of his own aircraft. His wingman, distanced and loose from him after the evasive action, attempted a similarly impressive move as a missile -was it Magic, or Sidewinder? No matter- came at him head-on. His starboard wing, leading into the roll, was clipped by the weapon, it hardly looked like anything, but the Super Harrier seemed unable to stop its roll, in fact it accelerated the move even further, and began to twist downwards. The young pilot must have blacked out, as, though his cockpit appeared unscathed, there was no sign of ejection. He went down.

As the fight progressed, the hated enemy perhaps earned himself a little grudging respect, though it wouldn't be felt for a long time, not while the heat of battle and all its intensity was fully in occupation of British minds. It was hard to take-down the remaining Rafale, even though the Harriers were mostly flying with cover from unthreatened wingmen against fewer enemies who had to look out for themselves. Another Harrier went down when an old hand, seeing the trail of a short-range missile creeping towards his young ward, who was fixated on a Rafale drifting in and out of his gunsight, perhaps instintively shifted his plane across the missile's path and was hit square in between the upright and starboard plane of his tail, losing most of the entire assembly. He ejected several miles north of the main British fleet, hoping only to be picked-up by SAR helicopters before the French First Fleet arrived.

The youngster then, well trained but inexperienced, struck his mark several times and, seeing smoke and apparently erratic behaviour in the target, turned to avenge his mentor, only to learn -later- that his quarry hadn't been critically damaged and would recover to damage two Harriers himself.

Just to the west, fourteen Typhoon took on as many of the dozen Rafale as had survived the initial shocking volley. Rolls Royce engines, outperforming the smaller units provided by the historically less capable French equivalent industry, gave an edge as both sides forced the maximum out of their opponents, and both were forced to attempt difficult operations in order to gain the upper hand. Down went another Rafale, a Typhoon, two more of each, but the RAF fighters were pulling the French back towards Super Harrier disengaging from the ever reducing number of French planes to the east. Ultimately, the British, with superior stealth and medium-range missiles and intelligence support to start with, and numbers and supercruise ability throughout, vanquished the difficult and deadly Rafales, and began to filter back to the fleet and to the Azores.

Four of the ridiculously expensive Typhoons were gone, in some respects almost making-up for the loss of an entire French frigate, all though not in human terms. It was hard to count how many millions of dollars in missiles had been used to put-down the French incursion. On the deck of HMS Queen Elizabeth III, flight and bridge crews counted back thirty Super Harrier, but could not stop to mourn half a dozen potential losses, as SAR helicopters left from across the fleet, for more than one strike fighter was returning trailing smoke or with some important fixing either absent or hanging at a clearly improper angle.

To the southeast, the British had more numeric strength, much as did the French. Godfrey Grâce à Dieu and Alfred the Great continued to fight in the fleet's defence, tackling the Mirage cloud as they had the bombers, hours earlier.

The enemy fighters were hit at stand-off distance, and hit hard, then again as they caught-up with the FAA's interceptors to give their first counter-punch after two free swings had sapped their strength. An incredible 288 missiles had made the seemingly powerful attack almost limp by the time the French were able to claim their first Super Harrier in this battle, and it was one of a few morbid consolations as the last of the sixty fighting Mirage were obliterated by explosion after metal and flesh rending explosion.

The twelve that broke away could only be remembered as the lionesque followers to their leader's lamb.

After the previous day's decoy operations, Longworth maintained another strong CAP over his fleet when the large formation was detected inbound, and twelve Mirage, laden with surface-attack stores, went down like it was San Carlos Bay. The attack with dumb bombs against a carrier battle fleet was heroic nonsense, and a Merlin helicopter was soon plucking soggy Frenchmen out of the water. Their rescuers-cum-captors would have looked on them almost with pity had it not been for the freshness in their minds' eyes of Gibraltar's burning. Shivvering and defeated, the Frenchmen were photographed from the bridge of HMS Deepwater as they shuffled below her deck to blankets and cups of tea. The fleet's integrity was not shaken by the small and primitive assault.

HMS Glorious

"...you have the fleet. Godspeed."

Longworth's signal to the Queen Elizabeth III ended thus as looked to the fighting Australasians, seeing only smoke in the distance and receiving more data than his tired mind could process at once. ASuW helicopters picketed his ship along with missile-decoy Seakings, and the British battleship increased to almost thirty knots, propelled by four mighty shafts. Several thousand tonnes of oil made-up a share of the ship's almost sixty-nine-thousand deep load, along with an uncommon share given to armour that was notable as quite thick, very fine in quality, but mostly as particularly extensive: all ships had to go relatively unarmoured in some points, and the main talking point of the Courageous Class, of which Glorious was the second in a planned run of four, remained the uncommon extent of the armour's placement. The new Soviet design and the Australasians' battleships, certainly, had armour that was thicker in some points, and perhaps some of the French designs were like in this respect, but the British felt that their design, if less extreme, was at least well balanced. Glorious outgunned the French, too, mounting nine long 16" guns in three turrets, backed-up by two-dozen dual-mounted 155mm DP guns, and eighty VLS silos bearing Mk30 and Mk15 SAMs and cruise missiles, not to mention nine Evolved Goalkeeper and various machineguns.

Almost sixteen hundred Britons aboard were inspired by the success so far of their young but highly-acclaimed Admiral, and by a need to smite the dogs that had caused so much pain in the British Empire and the lands of its allies. The Admiral took stock... Their ship was good, the legacy on which she had been built was even better. But none of this disguised the fact that Glorious steamed towards an uncertain fate... death or glory becomes just another story.

Longworth glanced to the side. Several of the bridgecrew were looking back at him. Looking for confidence, no doubt. Unless... had he been humming that aloud?

Lieutenant Branscombe started to sing, under his breath, in an act of cheeky daring, ...got to travel over seas, we gonna fight your brother, we gonna fight till you lose, we gonna raise trouble, we gonna raise Hell...

The Admiral cleared his throat, unable to react harshly after being caught like that, and the sounds aboard the bridge returned to normal.

"After-cells, prepare for salvo."
"Aye, sir. After-cells, prepare for salvo..."

Airborne assets delivered target data as Glorious tried to pick friend from foe and bandit from ghost, and continued to close on the gunfight, confident in growing British air superiority even as a furiously busy HMS Ocean headed back towards home and a fresh batch of Super Harrier to replace attrition. Soon, Longworth hoped to join the Australasians in their desperate gun battle, starting with a missile strike that would announce his impending arrival from beyond gun-range... just as soon as he could get a clear firing solution!

Britain

The start of a siege mentality was upon the people once again. The British isles were actually over-due for an invasion attempt, having faced, on average, one every generation or so for the past thousand years, though most people did not realise this. Even the Spanish had landed, before, less than a century after the establishment of the House of Walmington, coming from France to burn Cornish civilians out of their homes and talk of their Protestant mosques, and since then things had hardly settled-down until after the Second World War.

Folk were once again encouraged to dig for victory, and the Home Guard started recruitment anew, issuing Sterlings, Bren guns, No.4 Enfield rifles, and SLRs to women, teenage boys, and old men, giving even the bored and the unemployed some sense of purpose and belonging as the first pieces of uniform began to arrive.

Industry was rolling with the reopened mines keenly behind the government. True, it was Bull who had put them back into work, but they had been in no small part responsible for the collapse of the Tories as Chaffin's attempts to put them back out again only handed victory to the Whigs.

League brutality and the pace and reach of modern news media also delivered a crippling blow to the Newrian separatist movement, the hard-core of which became increasingly associated with the sickening tactics of the enemy, and tried, fatally, to distance itself from this liability by putting its strength behind Captain Marcus Cole's Newry National Socialist Party, losing even more credibility in the attempt.

Across the nation, some few did oppose the war, but with Gibraltar's refugees arriving along side Wendsleybury's volunteer soldiery and positive reports being fed from the Pacific battle, well, they were more scarce than had been the followers of Quisling.

Godfrey III himself had appeared before the nation to deliver a seemingly controversial message.

The French king had sued for peace. He had offered to leave Gibraltar and surrender other far-flung League holdings.

...he had been rejected.

The surprise announcement was met with barely a moment's silence before cheers rippled across the sceptred isles.

The enemy, His Majesty declared, was running scared, fully aware that his defeat was coming. He had believed that the British would no more protect Portugal and West Africa against his forces than Galtieri believed they would fight for the Falklands or Hitler that they would risk all for Poland. And, like those tyrants, the masters of the Holy League would be defeated in battle, and removed by their own cowardly suicide or the fury of their mislead people.

We will fight them in the Atlantic, and in the Pacific; we will fight them in Lisbon and on the Rock...

((The action aside, I felt like a little backdrop, if you'll excuse my successive posting.))

HMS Queen Elizabeth III

A couple of rescued British pilots below, shivering worse than the captured Frenchmen, and the sadly misshapen form of a wounded Harrier being dragged mournfully across her previously pristine flightdeck, Betty idled along, making more or less to the southwest, but clearly in no great hurry about it. Vice-Admiral Frazer on the bridge meant to continue the fleet's careful avoidance of being trapped by the French First, but also was required to refrain from moving too far from the action to the south, or to run too fast for Whyte's small force to catch-up when the time came.

Sir James, who was lately more familiar with the business of government, being, after all, Governor of Wendsleybury, looked the part. Dignified, silver-haired and handsome in that older-gentlemanly way, and a uniform that always seemed to have stronger colour than anyone else's. He had good posture, too, and a refined accent that seemed unscathed by years down-under.

But the furrows on his elderly brow ran today a little deeper. Truth be told, he wasn't sure that he was up to filling Longworth's shoes, and had privately asked the Admiral not to commit to his dashing rescue attempt in leading Glorious straight towards the Franco-Australian maelstrom. He was almost glad to be distracted from these thoughts by normally tedius and now deeply worrying reports from the quartermasters.

The fleet was running-out of air-to-air missiles. Some concerns existed over aviation fuel, as well, though these were not half so pressing. And it was true that the Vice-Admiral held some deep-seated concerns over the destroyer picket. A lot of MK15 and MK30 SAMs had been launched against Spanish missiles and French attackers, and Frazer wondered how much longer the enemy could keep this up. True, he had fifteen destroyers, and they were quite probably the best in the world, and that left the screen with a formidable arsenal of over seven-hundred of these missiles, discounting those carried by the aircraft carriers and the battleship, but each Daring Class destroyer had only the forty-eight missiles in its launch-ready silos, and had been compelled to deploy more than one against each sighted target.

A danger presented itself, though it was perhaps not quite the one that Frazer perceived. The Vice-Admiral, rusty after serving for so long in peacetime and then dedicating so much time to government, he was potentially over-cautious, especially after taking-part in Longworth's stand-offish early operations. In the minds of most Britons, France armed herself by a horde of ridiculous proportions, and the Vice-Admiral could imagine another attack on the scale seen earlier today, another bomber assault, another lot of decoys, a volley of improbably long-ranged shore-based missiles, and he was left wondering, what if? His fighter screen couldn't sortie again with the monsterously formidable load-outs carried by some during the last round of fighting, and might have to be more conservative in its engagements... his destroyers had, in his mind, one weakness, and that was that they were too good, designed to face small, super-modern threats more than an inexhaustible horde.

In truth, the French would probably have to sacrifice their entire naval aviation and more than half of the air force before they could completely expend the British fleet's primary air defences, but Frazer was in danger of over-estimating the enemy, every bit as dangerous as France's under-estimation of so many of the enemies she had made.

Sir James cleared his throat as he looked over another inventory, and realised just how dry it had become. He took a moment to suggest tea, before the problem translated into a notable change in his voice, which, he supposed, wouldn't inspire confidence in his new command. How long should he continue to fight before breaking-off for the sake of the fleet's long-term survival? Could he afford to intervene to the south, if it became necessary to do so? And could he fight that battle along with the First Fleet's threat? Would the French be more able to acquire new aircraft and anti-ship missiles than he was to obtain anti-air weaponry out here in the middle of the Atlantic and at such short notice? Would the arrival of Whyte come soon enough, and would it provide enough extra defence, or would the need to protect a fourth carrier and numerous logistical vessels off-set that gain?

Sir James recognised the dangerous enemy that was doubt... but he wasn't a brash young man, able to dismiss it at a stroke.

Britain

Actually, though Frazer's concerns were based largely on his own side's propaganda, indicating the incredible threat posed by the enemy and his giant arsenal, and were perhaps not best placed in this battle, the theme rung true back at home. British industry continued its biggest rise since the industrial revolution, true, but that didn't make her any more capable of replacing munitions half as quickly as they were being expended.

As Whyte's intervention indicated, Britain's technological edge ran only part way down her sword...

Sea Eagle missiles were supposed the be in a process of phasing-out for replacement by, well, something better able to threaten armoured warships in a modern environment. But it hadn't happened. This was one of the more visible symptoms of the down-side to the policies of Bull and, to a lesser degree, Mainwaring. Britain's new generation of world-beating warships, planes, and ordnance was very... British. John Bull's bad relations with the US and Britain's necessary isolation from the likes of France, Spain, and Italy, along with the keen support of domestic industry had, in some ways, made Britain better able to stand on her own two feet when war came to Europe. On the other hand, it meant that the likes of Super Harrier weren't initially configured to deploy, for example, Quinntonian weapons, and the single chain of factories producing BAe Meteors had a definite capacity. Having the manpower and material to do it didn't mean that Britain could produce at any given moment more missiles than there were production lines.

Work was being hurridly dispensed to new subcontractors, but, ultimately, it would take time to prepare facilities with the means to produce the most type-specific and high-tech components for the Empire's very best weapons.

Pilots of the RAF's merely two-hundred-odd Typhoon did not relish the prospect of their second battle (of course most had yet not faced their first) being fought without fire-and-forget BVRAAMs, and wondered, like Frazer, what might happen if they were forced to expend their best missiles against lesser opposition -Algerian-manned Mirage; Tulgarian F-16; someone pointed-out that, last time around, the Italians took part in the Battle of Britain, and everyone had a theory- only to go out again armed with, what, Skyflash? At least they had Typhoon- other pilots would be obliged to defend the nation flying Tornado, if it came down to it.

The government had given-up on many other ideas, including reintroduction of a Lightning derivative to flesh-out the ranks, indicating that the aircraft just wouldn't be suitable for the sort of inexperienced pilots likely to be raised if the war were to drag-on.

No long-range/high altitude surface-to-air-missile or anti-ballistic-missile shield beyond the MK30 missiles of the fleet, a shortage of ammunition and compatability issues with long-estranged allies, the possibility of Middle Eastern oil taking much longer to arrive given the condition of the Gibraltar, a tank-force just a few hundred strong, a standing army eight? nine? ten? times smaller than France's, let alone that of the Tsar, the Rock fallen even before the monkeys left, Damascus taking a hit of yet unconfirmed scope in the Atlantic, a total lack of a strategic bomber force to answer the one across the Channel, troop movements in hitherto quiet Tulgary, the Soviets sure to reach Africa before the western democracies could do a thing about it, and now the Russians were landing in Morocco and nobody could figure-out which Anglophone fleet of war they'd evaded en route, let alone how they'd done it. Forget international decency, images of those meek-looking captured French pilots would be plastered all over the ten o'clock news, or people would start to doubt King Godfrey's defiant rejection of Versailles' compromise.

Darwin, Australasia

Oh, but this was awkward.

Strathairn killed the newscast, and after watching Godfrey III reject France's peace deal, he felt as though he needed a gin and tonic. And then, he needed to call Christina, and tell her to get her ass back home before she did something incredibly awkward in Washington. Such as take the French up, like he'd told her to only a few hours before.

Bloody Walmingtonian embassy. Bloody Walmingtonian Ambassador who didn't read his mail, pick up his phone or check his computer. He couldn't abandon the Brits now, he'd risk losing much of the goodwill that over two decades of careful diplomacy and carefully applied force had generated. And so he got on the phone.

"Hi, Christina?" He said when she picked up. "Right. That thing I told you to do? Yeah, that. Don't do it. Hmmm? That's right. Do. Not. I'm... I'll fly up there as soon as I can. Yes. No, Cobar can handle that. Yes. No. I'm the prime minister. If I want to clear my schedule then I can bloody well clear my schedule. No. Fine. Right, I l... love how this line isn't secure. Can we get someone on that? No, no. I wasn't asking you. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up.

"Well," he said to his secretary du jour. "Get someone from Electronics up here. I don't want the Daily National Eavesdropper getting any more of our bloody phone calls."

Glorious 12th of June

"Is the line secure?" Damascus had lost his hat, and nearly his right arm. But due to a very committed staffer, God rest his soul, he'd managed to keep it. The bridge of the FCS Victory was the worst it had looked in years, even after that dreadful refitting job when they'd put in at Port Royal. Bloody Roiks couldn't rebuild a ship if they had a bleeding manual.

"Yes sir, all submarines and light vessels have begun the retreat." His hat wasn't the only thing that Australasia's oldest admiral had lost. He'd also lost his pride. Intelligence had counted far fewer battleships amongst the enemy fleet, and no doubt a scout pilot was losing his wings somewhere right now. Even so, it was his fleet. And his fleet had just lost...

Three destroyers, five corvettes, one cruiser, a submarine, and... and the battlecruiser Temeraire. She was sinking about a kilometre back, having taken two full salvoes of sixteen inch shells off of the Roik-built Dreadnought to her waterline. It was a bizzare scene, as one of Australasia's heaviest warships sank below the waves. She was surrounded by a slick of oil, as well as white medevac helicopters with prominent red crosses on their sides. It
was to be hoped that the French would honour the red cross, but by no means was it guaranteed.

The Victory and the Tonnant, sister ship to the dying Temeraire, had turned away from the enemy line at the last moment. Their heavy guns still fired as the two heavies, accompanied by a somewhat depleted escort screen of Attack Destroyers and Escort Cruisers made their oblique exit, aiming for a point out of gun range. The battle wasn't done, far from it. But the day favoured the French, thus far.

And how, Damascus asked himself amidst the smoke and the fire, had that happened. Perhaps it was a moment of fatal introspection, but he didn't think so. It had started with that scout mission, a pair of young men in an AS-6 who had counted three battleships, not eight. Two carriers and an LHD, not three. The battle had been downhill from there, as submarine sorties left the Australasian fleet short one attack sub and the French line in calm, arrogant order.

He'd refused to believe the radar readouts, that was all. Damascus was an admiral of the old school, one who still believed in seeing the enemy's fleet, in hearing their communications on the radio and in steaming line-ahead for their centre. This new war, this war of green dots and death that came screaming out of the air at impossible speed, this wasn't his war. This was a video game, a simulation. And so when the radarman counted eight battleships, he hadn't believed it. He'd ordered the advance. And now, he was paying for it as French shells smashed against his ships' hulls. A destroyer down the line exploded, hit by a sixteen incher or two off a Roik-built dreadnaught, the same that had claimed the Temeraire before. The Stormhawk, accompanied by the guided missile ships and the three remaining submarines of the fleet, turned her ponderous bulk out of the line. Riddled with holes, her deck was useless. The last fighters had been disgorged, those already in the air would need to seek refuge on Walmingtonian carriers at the close of the day. Her side was scored, holed and smashed beyond recognition, and she limped southwest at a tortured twenty-three knots.

And so Damascus watched the French line, steaming along. They had yet to lose a major ship; not one of their heavies had been fatally damaged by the insane volume of missiles that had been fired by the four navies that day. Nineteen inch shells could make a nasty mess of a ship, but the guns were too few to make a real dent in the Franco-Spanish lines. The Walmingtonians were on the other side of that line, their new navy wasn't set up for a gun-duel. And neither, he realized, was his. Not against the Holy League, and not yet. But he'd be back. The gunships of the Australasian fleet sailed west-southwest amidst shot and shell, gradually opening the space between their ships and the League's.

Above

Over twice their number of Rafales and Mirages had flown into their teeth, and the Naval Air Corps of the Atlantic Fleet was slowly choking. Their numbers were dwindling. Seventy five. Sixty eight. Fifty. Fewer and fewer green dots lit the screens of the pilots. But they didn't go down easily. The Rafale was a tricky opponent, and the ODSE flew relatively well. 'Elite' was perhaps a load of ... hype, but there was no question that the French nobles flew with care and skill. More than one Australasian rookie had found his engine fairings invaded by a Meteor missile, only to find that the rest of his life was very short, and very warm. Veteran pilots of the Kangaroo-Roundel carefully noted that the Cavalier could match or even outdo the Rafale in pitch and roll, but not in a yaw, and planned their manouevers accordingly. Even so, the pilots of the Colony kept the skies. They had been monitoring radio traffic, and they knew that the Brits were holding their own. If they could keep the sky long enough, the feeling went, then the Typhoons of the Fleet Air Arm would come in time.

Battleship Victory

"Sir, we have more ships on approach," Lieutenant Hobbe said from the radar station. "It's the Royal Navy, sir." He was smiling, sort of a silly smile. But he could be forgiven, because after a day of purgatory and three hours of hell, the British were coming. Damascus allowed himself a small, melancholy smile of his own. There were worse things to happen to an old admiral than be saved by the Royal Navy. To not be saved, for example.

"Signal all guided missile ships. Begin volley fire." The radioman snapped off an 'aye, aye' and relayed the message. Seconds later, the still-retreating destroyers and cruisers accompanying the Stormhawk let fly their monumentally expensive missile load. Anti-ship missile after anti-ship missile filled the skies, and they ran in low and very fast against the French line. There was no measure taken to conserve missiles, one fired after the other until the deck below the launcher was scorched and blackened. Targets of choice were the ponderous Roik dreadnoughts that had done so much damage to the Atlantic Fleet.

The range, although opening steadily, was still short. No doubt, once again, the CIWS systems of the Franco-Spanish fleet would make quick work of the volly, but they couldn't keep it up forever. It was a question of which would fail first, the French CIWS grid or the Colonial missile supply.

((Sorry about the delay, c’est la vie, I will definitely have something up for Africa by tonight or tomorrow.))

Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, Northern Theatre

By the skin of their teeth, the aerial charges of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit held Union Jack sporting vampires off long enough for le Merechal de Gras du Mont to engage the Australasian force. Heroically, they held the line against the overwhelmingly superior British forces, for not less than an hour.

The Mirage attack was utterly valiant, and so were their casualties. Of a full wing of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit, the Knights Errant, less than twenty of the heroes made it back to shore, and every one with a craft in a state of some damage. Of the charging group all craft were lost, and their pilots were now in the hands of the cruel and unfathomable British Godfreyula. A sign of their vigor, every single missile and shell the craft were armed with had been exhausted, like tired birds they landed, and sighed asleep.

Of the three score elite Rafales that had charged the British from the north, a much more devastating loss as the Squadron was armed with His Most Christian Majesty’s best aircraft and pilots, a scant 9 of the precious vehicles with their drained knights made it back to the Northern Fleet. However, they returned proud, as by all accounts they had conducted themselves desperately against a far superior force, and held their line against the overwhelming darkness.

When the aircraft were recovered, such as they were, the Northern Fleet cut straight to the French shore, and moving up the shore under cover of veritable wings of Ordu du Saint Esprit escort craft would proceed back to Cherbourg.

Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, Southern Theatre

With the knights holding the British fleet of for just long enough, le Merechal de Gras du Mont had brought his battle line straight into the Australasians, and for hours each side exchanged withering bouts of cannon fire, with anti-ship missiles zooming buzzing around their heads.

The Spanish and French Bourbon line clearly had the better of it, however, especially with the Cherbourg’s dishing out a copious amount of secondary fire against the Australasian corvettes and destroyers. The fleets had locked, close enough for the Australasians to hear the fifes and drums on the Bourbon fleet’s loudspeakers. Rafales and enemy craft screamed above, they too were launching missiles and machine gun fire. And in the midst of this chaos, Red Cross helicopters rescued the wounded and shipwrecked on both sides.

To his left, le Merechal observed a fine French Roycelandian-built heavy destroyer, engaging two enemy frigates simultaneously, simply explode in one flash…the magazine was hit. There was really nothing left to sink. Then he grinned, as he observed the Australasian battle cruiser take the fatal salvo from HMCMS Titan. His strategy, thank God that he was allowed close to the invaiders!, had worked, and the Australasian line was first broken, and then engaged with maximum fire. Even now, the battle line snaked about at dazzling speed. HMCMS Louis-Auguste, with her battered conning tower, lead the roster-tailed formation. Moving south with his Spanish allies, he came about parallel to the withdrawing enemy.

The Bourbon fleet was given another run at the Stormhawk, and as one the battleships opened up against the already crippled carrier.

Huge volleys racked the enemy vessel. Once the Bourbons had showered the ship in lead, they continued to cut through the Australasian fleet, pulling about as the Australasians moved away.

The Grand Fleet was in fact exhausted. The Battle of the Glorious 12th had been continuous now for three days, the longest single naval engagement in the history of warfare. Sailors were passing out from exertion, the sick bays were overflowing. Ammunition, shells, cartridges, missiles, was almost now gone. The Cherbourg’s huge four turret guns, as they pounded away, began to have problems. The barrels would not respond, some were taken off line, whether this was a result of exhaustion of technicality would be studied later.

So they thudded on, intent of fighting to the end. But then radar called the British fleet incoming. Although the French and Spanish wished to stay and deal with the Limes, having dismissed their allies, they could not by any means attempt to do so. So, when they had finished crossing that Herculean T, they cut back again towards the Spanish shore, and made again for Cadez, from whence they had sortied out that impossibly long three-day ago.

As with the First Fleet, air cover was poured out, not for any offensive reason, but to discourage any pursuit. And so they pulled away, and followed the carrier force well ahead to Cadiz, now and then the diminishing CIWIS systems would light up the twilight of the third day, as a Lime or Australasian missile was hurled by the utterly petulant Anglos.

The Rafale’s (no Mirages here), which had nearly wiped the skies clean, and so scored a shining victory for the French where the First Fleet force had gained only a valiant defense, roared still. Screaming above the wrecked and haphazard Australasian fleet, they would make one more huge attack on the Stormhawk as they passed, emptying what ammunition they had left on the battered vessel, and more than a few missiles impacted against her titled hull. But with the British coming they too passed back to the Grand Fleet. They left eleven of their number, far too many, at the bottom of Davy Jones Locker…but when all was said and done, the battle had been ghastly….and with that considered, Versailles and the Escorial were stunningly proud of their behavior that day, defense given to save Christendom.

Sorry about that delay mes amis, its up. Good Lord, what a battle!

Buenos Aires, South America

The Chinese carrier fleet finally arrives and docks at Buenos Aires for a brief resupply, with the fleet commander expressing "enormous disappointment" at being barred from entry into Panama canal.

It is now obvious that the fleet will arrive much too late to rescue the allied fleet, but doubtless this will still strengthen the Chinese position when it came to negotiations.

Secret negotiations continue apace with the Australasians.

Glorious 12th of June

Major Harmony Reese hung grimly on the tail of her adversary, one of the black Rafales of the ODSE. Her missiles long exhausted, she relied now on short bursts of the 35 mm cannon in the nose of her Cavalier. Hence the extreme close range at which she flew, close enough to see the Frenchman jockying with the controls of his aircraft, juddering it from side to side.

The tail of his larger fighter skittered in and out of her reticle, rolling and bouncing as he and his compatriots made a suicide run on the Stormhawk, limping away below. Tracer fire from the CIWS guns, missile tails from the RAMs and Sea Darts, as well as what small-arms fire could be brought to bear rained from the big ship's deck, observation balconies and island. One missile blew an ODSE knight away, startling the pilot in Reese's sights. He levelled out for a second, and the acting-CAG, Stormhawk put three rounds into his cockpit.

She neatly avoided the dead pilot's spinning aircraft before swinging around to hit another target. And another. Between them, the remaining thirty-one pilots of the Australasian fleet downed nine, while fending off the desultory attacks of the fleeing League fighters. But it wasn't nearly enough, as sixteen remaining airmen of the ODSE dropped bombs, missiles, whatever they had on the deck of the listing carrier.

CVAN Stormhawk

Airman Michaels was covered in soot, the blood of his childhood friend, and the remaining parts of his jumpsuit. It was getting cold out, he noted while running breathlessly to find a fire extinguisher. You't think that they'd have a bunch of them, especially around the jet fuel pumps.

And yet... they didn't. And the ship was starting to burn. Well, not the ship itself, per se. More the fuel slick that covered the flight deck. It was close to catching. Some idiot pilot had missed the deck, and left burning bits of her airplane all over the aft end. They'd be cleaning it up for weeks. Fortunately for the pilot, she'd been fished out of the water.

Not that it would do her, or Michaels any damned good if the whole ship went up. Were those jets? Why yes, they were. Lots. Some looked familiar; reassuringly grey and shaped like several oddly connected trapezoids around a fuselage. Others black, and looking like someone's idea of an enormous dart. The black ones were having a bad time of it, exploding and everything. Hm... they looked French. Well, exploding Frenchmen were good, after all.

Not, as noted before, that it would do any good if the ship went up. And then it did.

Battleship Victory

But damn, it looked cool. The deck of the Stormhawk, covered with jet fuel, people and firehoses, ceased to exist in a sheet of rolling flame. Even from a kilometre or so distant, the thing seemed to rise out of the water a bit as several shipkilling missiles encountered gallons of plane-moving gasoline derivative. There was a thumping noise, and another sort of hissing noise, and then the whole thing turned into a largeish fireball.

It was First Lieutenant Raegan's first such fireball, but no doubt not to be his last. When the flame finally faded, much of the fore end of the Stormhawk had ceased to exist. The deck was, from his vantage, a twisted mess. It was bent up forward, and the skin of the hull itself had been melted by intense heat. The big ship wallowed in the ocean, two of her guns still spitting bullets and missiles at the retreating ODSE. But her future, for that brave gesture, was clearly in doubt.

"Ready about," Damascus ordered from his station as the carrier burned and the French fleet slowly disengaged. The deck guns boomed a farewell to the Soleil Royale as it led the Franco-Spanish line in a slow, stately turn towards the distant continent.

Damascus was suppressing the urge to follow, reminding himself that seeing the wounded fleet home to the Azores was vastly more important than sniping at support ships, or engaging in a running battle with the enemy. He was exhausted, having walked his strip of the flag bridge for three days and two nights. The damaged section of the bridge was being roped off as the action slackened, and the youngest officers and men were sagging against the dented, blackened bulkheads. The oldest men stood with drawn looks on their faces, barely keeping upright as an example to the rest. As the French fleet steamed away, the tired Australasian sailors cheered their departing foe.

The admiral smiled sadly. They had kept the sea. They had fought for days and days against an enemy twice their size, fought four times as many heavy battleships and they had kept the sea. Off in the distance, as the Franco-Spanish fleet slunk away, the Royal Navy's heavy ships were silhouetted by the setting sun.

After

The pilots of the Naval Air Corps who lived through that day became known amongst the fleet as 'the Forty-Two'. Some were dragged from the water, like Colonel Amundsen. Others landed on the spacious decks of the Royal Navy's carriers, like Major Reese and the thirty-one others who still had aircraft to land. Thirty-eight were dead, and Amundsen spent the night writing letters home. He knew that they would arrive on a doorstep accompanied by a pair of lieutenants and the folded Naval Jack.

These were his first letters home from the war, and they weren't even to anyone he personally knew. Truth to tell, he didn't have anyone to write. Didn't really have a job, even, outside of pilot. Not since the Stormhawk was scuttled after they'd removed everyone and everything of value. Too badly damaged to repair, the report had said. Oh well, there'd be other carriers. Other pilots, even.

He sat in the guest quarters arranged for him by that charming captain of the Godfrey Grace-a-Dieu who'd met him on deck and called it all a 'good show, sah'. He'd said it heartily enough to make it clear that he meant a good showing, or somesuch. Although Hollywood would no doubt make a movie about it in six or so years.

Everyone was calling it 'The Glorious 12th of June'. But that was absurd. It wasn't glorious, it was a defeat. One carrier, one battlecruiser, several smaller ships, thousands dead. And the French sailed home to repair and rearm. There were rumours going around, Damascus had shot himself with his service revolver. He'd resigned. He'd been promoted. He'd shot the scouts who told him three, not eight. Amundsen had only learned the truth that morning. Damascus had sent the Knights Admiral his letter of resignation, and it had been sent back to him, unopened. So both the CAG and the Commander in Chief of the Atlantic Fleet would fight again. Just not too soon.

[OOC: *Applauds* Brilliant showing, absolutely brilliant, all of you. This is the finest naval battle AMW has ever seen, and perhaps in all of NS, if I may be so bold. So is it fair to say that neither side had a conclusive victory here, although it's clear that the Australasians suffered the worst damages?]

OOC-I think in the final wash, with this glorious battel, with reverabations effecting all corners of AMW, went something like this:

The French and Spanish Fleets began to become as one, and it almost seemed as though they had been preparing/training for this eventuality for a long time, seeing as two totally separate naval entities moved and fought as one with little or no obvious wrinkles.

The Franco-Spanish Fleet broke into two parts, and in the Northern Theatre, there was a battle of two distinct naval doctrines, which saw the well-trained, well-funded British stay far out of reach of the majority of the big gunned French attacks, turning the conflict into a proxy war of air superiority. In that, I think that the French Air Knights showed themselves to be far more than the inbred fops everyone had written them off for, and made a good show of it, though outnumbered and fighting under some technological disadvantage. But they took disastrous losses and one wonders given the small pool that they have to draw from, how they will be replaced. When fleet to fleet action took place, the French took a heavy pounding, but though the British started to show signs of wear, the French attacks faltered and broke, with the Royal Navy hitting the French hard until the French commanders broke and ran for a closer position to the shore where they could draw upon more substantial air support. The French fleet was beaten, but not destroyed, and probably could have still carried on fighting, and one wonders what the reaction of the British would have been to another day of heavy fighting.

But the French commanders definitely made the right choice, if they had kept fighting, they might have inflicted some major damage to the Brits, but they would have paid for it with much more disastrous losses. They are now sailing under heavy air support down the French coast, presumably for repair.

In the South, the Franco-Spanish Fleet had a much better show of it, as they faced an outnumbered Australasian Fleet that was operating under intelligence that showed less than half the strength in the Franco-Spanish Fleet that was actually present. This lapse caused the Australasian Fleet to be totally committed and led to a major pounding in all areas, except air superiority, where the Australiasians held out very well against the French pilots. But the losses inflicted by the French against the allied fleet will haunt them for years to come, and I wonder what effect this conflict will have on that nations policy between Buenos Aeries and the massive pounding their surface fleet took. In this case, the English tactics left something to be desired, as since they had trouble closing with the French, they could not charge to the rescue of the Australiasians. However, the French saw the writing on the wall and pulled back soon after the Northern Fleet did, getting under cover of major air support and sailing down the coast.

It is interesting to note that there were other navies involved, but not in the fighting. A Chinese Carrier Battle Group was forced to sail around the tip of South America due to restrictions placed upon them by the Quinntonians and has decided to stay their course presumably to enhance their bargaining position.

Also, the Russian Navy had deployed its Baltic Fleet into an actionable position north of Poland and its Northern Fleet to the north of the English Isle. Basically, the British rightly ignored these scare tactics though now it would seem that they need to be dealt with in some fashion.

Also, there were Quinntonian deployments from the Second Fleet, with the Carrier Battle Group: Moses being deployed into position to guard shipping in the northern African theatre and the Carrier Battle Group: Mary Mother of God deployed to the west of the two Franco-Spanish Fleets, where it was in the strange position to watch the fighting throughout and yet did nothing. It was in striking distance throughout the battle but sat back and watched, though it can be assumed that a lot of the Red Cross ships were flying from Quinntonian positions, helping parties from both sides. Also, the Sixth Fleet was ordered to test the French resolve in the closing of the Gibraltar Straight, but a quick diplomatic envoy diffused that situation.

That pretty much brings us here, there was Soviet movements, but I do not think they got anywhere near the fighting, did they?

I don’t know why I had to recap for everyone, but this is how I saw it, so maybe it is interesting in the fact that it will be pretty much how Quinntonia reacts to the conflict. See this as an internal Pentagon report leaked out.

WWJD
Amen.

The Straits of Gibraltar would be reopened to Quinntonia and humanitarian organizations only, although they had never really been closed to them.

Quinntonia saw France try and sue for peace on behalf of the Holy League, only to see other powers vote to continue war. They must try and understand they cannot allow a, say, British fleet though as it would compromise the war effort.

Needless to say, the Quinntonians have complete freedom of movement wherever they choose to go.

Good God, that was a relief! The French were withdrawing. Frazer waited until he'd managed to give all the bridge-crew some orders to be getting on with, then braced his left hand against a railing and wiped his brow with the right, gasping a little under his breath. Longworth would survive his suicide mission aboard Glorious, and come back to recover command of the Grand Fleet.

Off the Azores, the first loss of a Typhoon had come amongst the RAF's worst casualties -accidents aside- since the Second World War. Even four machines down was something strange for the modern Raf.

As the battle cooled-off, the FAA dispatched helicopters to seek Australasian seamen as well as British airmen, and they found the odd Frenchman here and there as they went.

Back in Blighty, the battle was, of course, being presented as a hard-fought and costly victory. The French, it would be said, had quit the field, so to speak.

However, just as at Jutland, the continentals would also probably claim victory, as they'd sunk more Anglophone warships.

If now, as then, the battle convinced Britain's enemies to remain in port and discouraged similar adventure in future, though, the strategic victory would indeed by Britannia's.

Longworth's last-minute charge, coming just before the French decided to retreat, would totally erase, in the public conscious, allegations of excess caution on his part. Indeed, British propaganda would maintain that Longworth held the line until the time was ripe, and then charged, alone, and scared-off the entire League fleet with but one British battleship.

The Australasians, meanwhile, were told not to lose faith. The United States was, apparently, "this close" to entering the war, and its help, along with the approach of the Chinese fleet, meant that the Atlantic war could not possibly be lost. Some had worried that the Aussies might sour to a European war, but Mainwaring insisted that it was absurd to suppose that the Australasians would quit a war started by someone else against them, ruining one of their cities, even if it did cost them a lot. It was just that kind of war.

The Royal Navy was now taking control. With Longworth back, there was no question of retreating to port. The fleet would remain out, moving to protect the Azores and the Channel islands, daring the League to try again.

The Aussies could stop-off at the Azores, and then, as required, head to Britain for repairs and rest. The French First Fleet gone, Whyte would return to the Channel Islands. If nothing else, London felt that it had made an impression in the air: the Channel Islands were closer to French airbases than to British, but, after the Glorious 12th, would Versailles dare start a fight in British-controlled skies? Super Harrier deployed to the little islands, but, tellingly, evacuation of children resumed now that French ships were gone.

Now, patroling against Franco-Spanish threats, the RN hoped that Quinntonian and, more importantly, Chinese presence approaching the theatre would blunt any Russian plans. Combined, both Russian fleets and the French battleships could seriously threaten Britain, but, for Russia to join battle in the west with the Chinese approaching, would expose the south and east to Beijing's ambition. So Whitehall assumes, anyway!

Now, the Admiralty wondered, should Courageous and the Aussie fleet try to join Quinntonian ships moving through the Gibraltar, just to see what the League would do?

Through the Empire, a minute's silence was to be observed for the dead of June's first fortnight, and, in Wendsleybury especially, it was primarily the Australasians that would be remembered.

In Buenos Aires, it appears Chinese involvement has stepped up, with the appearance of chinese military aircraft outside the city. To be precise, approximately a hundred aircraft of various types will be arriving over the next three or four days. While the carrier group steams towards Europe at a moderately slow pace, the build-up continues down south.

In Beijing, General Chang makes the announcement that the whole world had been waiting for : China officially declares war on the kingdom of France and Spain in response to the brutal and unlawful siege of Gibraltar.

OOC: A question...why now?

OOC: A question...why now?

Two reasons - Would have intervened earlier but got blocked at the canal, and for leverage.

Dammit! I finally get my forum access back (don't even ask what I had to go through to accomplish that!), and I miss an epic Naval Battle!

[Insert expletives and swearing here]

OOC: Don't worry Royce, it seems the Chinese and the Soviets are going to ensure plenty more naval battles to come.

OOC: That could be very interesting... our Dreadnought Fleet really doesn't get enough screen time these days... :D

OOC: This is a nasty paradox, the only way i have of stopping an enemy invasion fleet from a major nation is with french tactical nuclear ordanance, but that will get me and/or NG nuked to dust

OOC: Bit late now, anyway. ABM-equipped frigate screen to the fore!

Plus, you could just try fighting. The HL forces, as repeatedly stated by LRR, have a ridiculously massive quantitative advantage in theatre. And still they insist on perpetuating negative French stereotypes!

OOC: Who said they would be on ballistic missiles? Nuclear weapons can be fitted in anything, including in tripod mounted Bazookas. This would probably be more along the lines of nukes on Exocets or ASMP missiles

Two reasons - Would have intervened earlier but got blocked at the canal, and for leverage.

You're still blocked at the Canal, though... the Panama Canal opens into Roycelandian waters, and we've made it clear that we're not allowing China passage through our waters.

OOC: So he rounds the cape. Big deal. What's with all the 'Chinese carrier fleet bad' stuff going around right now, anyway?

Inverness Castle

The court kicked-out, a large part of the Whig government of the British Empire sat in semi-secret session on the banks of the River Ness, far from prying eyes and lumbering bombers, joined, perhaps by the ghost of King Duncan and all the drama of Shakespeare, if not exactly the full creativity of language.

"Tosh!" Exclaimed the PM, responding to an attempt by his Defence Minister to play devil's advocate and justify yet another declaration of war. Jones knew that the case was paper thin, and puffed out his top lip a little as he sat back down, giving up on it.

"We can't go to war with somebody for defending their citizens!"

"You could say that they started it, sir... by attacking Algeria, I mean."

"Don't be ridiculous, Wilson! You know very well that this government does not recognise the puppet Kingdom of Algeria... not that I, personally, ever thought much of the People's Democratic Republic. But, the point is, the Libyans can't attack something that doesn't exist."

"So... they didn't attack Algeria?"

"Yes... no... you're in the Cabinet, you should already understand this, Wilson!"

"Quite, sir."

Now Mainwaring puffed out his cheeks.

"Well, whatever the legal status of Libya's enterprise in Algeria, there is no way around the fact that the French were the initial aggressors, and that their raid on Tripoli was a war crime. Libya, on the other hand, or the Soviets, with Libyan consent, carried-out two nuclear detonations in or around their own airspace, violating the territory of no other nation. No educated people on earth will buy that, not for one second, as a justification for war to be conducted against Libya by a third party."

Everyone either nodded or murmered to indicate harmony, and the Prime Minister continued.

"Well then how on earth are the Quinntonians going to disguise the fact that they want to start World War IV before the rest of us are done fighting World War III?"

The Whigs didn't like the idea of a communist Africa any more than did the Quinntonians, and, even though -according to several major opinion polls- Anglo-Roycelandian relations were at their lowest on record, the likes of PM Mainwaring would prefer to see the relationship repaired before Roycelandian East Africa was completely destroyed. But going to war with Libya would be done without support of public or military, making it a challenge at best. London couldn't even understand why the Quinntonians would be prepared to engage this Soviet-backed fairweather-ally while the Holy League was still standing. Did Washington think that it would be easier to fight the Soviet bloc head-on while fending-off the Holy League than it would be to fight the Holy League head-on?

It seemed like a drastic under-estimation of an enemy that had about an armoured battalion to answer every single tank in the British army. But, perhaps there was something to be gained in it, for the Empire.

"Minister, if you would?"

Alan Thunder-ten-tronckh stood up, though you'd hardly notice the difference, for he gained only a few centimetres in doing do, and timidly cleared his throat, beginning to speak in similarly forceless style.

"Erm, yes, well, if the, ah, if the United States is determined to attack Libya, of course there isn't a question of us supporting it. Apart from the fact that the public won't go along with it, and the troops will probably tell us where to get off, the Indian National Union has forces in-country, and we can't very well shoot at our number-one source of tea and buyer of, erm, err... Landrovers?"

"I think that's Strathdonia-" interrupted the Defence Minister, only for Deputy PM Wilson to interject against him, saying, "Oh, no, don't they-" before himself being cut-off by the tapping of the PM's pocketwatch on the desktop.

"Erm, so, anyway, yes..." the speaker continued. "...however! Yes, however, for the United States to properly engage the Libyan theatre, they will have to put carrier battle groups through the Stait of Gibraltar. There is, then, the question of them sailing such a force right by a British posession under occupation only to ignore it and start a new fight against someone who is, to all intents and purposes, actually doing something to fight that occupier!

"I think that we all agree on the disparity of Washington's interest in active opposition when it comes to communist influence and feudal tyranny, but we must be practical in our planning. If the Quinntonians are going to steam through the Strait, perhaps we ought to send Longworth with them. And whatever the Australasians can spare, and the Chinese, too, if at all possible.

"No matter what Washington, or anyone else, has told Paris and Madrid up to that point, seeing such a collection of might approaching Gibraltar could not fail to make an impression, for there is no way on earth that it could be resisted should the Rock prove to be its target.

"We should consider a new round of negotiation with the leaders of the Holy League."

Thunder-ten-tronckh turned to the PM, who was again standing, cane gripped firmly in both hands.

"Thank you, Minister.

"Of course, we must begin to move forward. The dramatic victory of our forces in the face of overwhelming airpower-" Mainwaring too a much more positive view than most of his countryfolk in assessment of the Glorious 12th of June "was all well and good, but it does not, in itself, get us any closer to liberating the continental wretch.

"Strengthened by further losses to France's strategic bomber force, and the entry of the Libyan threat to the African theatre, and the continued approach of Indian and Chinese forces, we should again look at the proposals of the French king, and push him further.

"Gibraltar, of course, must be returned from the Kingdom of Spain, and reconstructed with substantial financial reparation from the coffers of the Holy League. And, perhaps, now, the African problem can be solved.

"Previously, we could not accept peace while it meant surrendering Africa to the enemy, knowing full well that it would shortly be siezed from them by the Soviets, who surely needed only time to gather forces sufficient to overwhelm the League. We knew that we should not be able to help the League to defend its gains, and that it would then be too late to dislodge the Soviets. With the United States involved, however, Africa becomes much less certain.

"In some ways just as important is Portugal, this nation's eldest ally, and a European democracy. The original peace deal, as forwarded by the French, made no allowance for Portugal. With the massing of Quinntonian and Chinese forces along side our own, and the continued reduction of French strategic forces, plus the fact that Roycelandia can not dream of intervening against the United States, we have the very real possibility that Portugal could be forcibly removed from Spanish domination.

"I do not suggest that we attempt this, it should be enough merely to imply that it is possible. After all, Portuguese resistance, encouraged by the government in exile upon the Azores, could help to pave the way before the liberating armies of perhaps four great nations, each one larger and mightier than Spain. We must demand significant concessions for Portugal!"

Mainwaring slapped his cane on part of a wall map, indicating Iberia, as if anyone in the room might be confused about exactly where to find Portugal.

"I propose that we offer a face-saving compromise to the Spanish, and push it with the French... perhaps they will exert the necessary diplomatic pressure to see it through. Though Spain could not win against the assembling forces of the free world, she no doubt knows that the task of liberating the Portuguese Republic could be a very difficult one indeed. As such, I hope to put foward the idea that the Spanish King be internationally recognised as the chief of state in Portugal as well as in Spain, while, effectively, the government of the Republic be reinstated, along with Portugal's internal autonomy. The Prime Minister must continue to be elected by the people of Portugal, unhindered by Spainish influence, and though the duty of making appointments to the Council of Ministers would pass to the King, he would in practice and in law lack the power to decline the recommendations of the elected head of government.

"Spanish forces would withdraw from Portugal, or else we shall continue with our war effort until they are destroyed completely. Given this, nothing would remain to prevent Lisbon's restoration of its President and rejection of the Spanish king, and so I shall also be suggesting an internationally agreed standard of demilitarisation in Portugal, providing only for some basic fashion of civil defence force. Concessions to Spain and the League, then, would be the token ceremonial recognition of the Spanish King in Portugal and the removal of the Republic's President -effectively giving more power to the Prime Minister, making sure that he is likely to play along-, and the legal demilitarisation of Portugal... and of course the freedom of Spain from invasion by multi-national forces. An end to hostilities in Europe would be indicated, but the proposal does not address Africa. We would be agreeing never to launch an invasion of Iberia or elsewhere on the continent, or to attack targets there, including in national waters.

"I shall be forwarding these proposals to involved governments once we conclude, here. With Gibraltar liberated and Portugal autonomous, commerce may begin again through the Strait of Gibraltar, and we can at least begin to worry about Africa. In fact, let somebody else come forward on that matter... the French must realise that they can't fight there for long if the US and others get access through the Strait.

London would soon be sending its proposals to Washington, Paris, Madrid, Ponta Delgada, Raleigh, and Beijing.

In communiqués to the Australasians, Chinese, and Quinntonians, Mainwaring urged a continued strong line against the League, saying that it is vital to continental democracy that Portugal's self-determination be returned to it: Spain must fear that the free powers are seriously prepared to liberate the Portuguese Republic entirely, and perhaps use it as a launch pad for invasion of Spain and perhaps even France.

"I can only hope" said the Prime Minister to his Deputy, before leaving the castle, "that enough has happened to the French military since Gibraltar that we can trust any European peace to hold."

OOC: Any peace proposal relating to the straits of Gibraltar should really be sent to Morocco aswell, being as i have enough firepower assembled to do significant damage to any units attempting to pass through it

((*Waves hand dismissively* Yeah, we might contact Rabat once all the important decisions have been made ;) ))

Open Spanish Communiqué Dealing With Peace Proposal
Spain out of hand refuses said proposal. The British have made no serious effort to date to 'liberate' anything on that list, and as far as Spain is concerned, the upper hand is still ours on land. Spain is ready to begin talks dealing with the return of the Gibraltar to the United Kingdom, although of course this would come hand in hand with discussions on British deployments to the Gibraltar, and sovereignty of the Straits of Gibraltar. However, Spain is not ready to liberate Portugal. Spain 'fears' not one of the 'powers' that have declared war on it - neither the United Kingdom, nor Australasia, nor the distant Chinese. The Holy League is the fortress on the continent, and Madrid pledges that any troops landed on Spanish or French or Moroccan territory will be killed and ripped to shreds by Holy League personnel.

The British proposal is not a negotiation, it is an ultimatum. That is an insult to Spain, and Spain is prepared to stand up against British bullying - especially when the British have no right to bully, given their loss on the continent. Spain is ready to bring new allies into the war to totally devastate the United Kingdom in the Mediterranean and in the North Sea. Spain is ready to defend what it has gained insofar.

Madrid will not recognize any British attempts at negotiation if they continue to leave Spain's opinion out of them. Spain has not lost any wars - it does not feel compelled to sue for peace, as the British intend to make it look like. The Spanish Army is still at full strength, and growing, and it has had nothing less than victories to date. We suggest to London that they come to us with a different attitude if they want to see the Gibraltar handed back to the sovereignty of the United Kingdom.

OOC_NG, you better reign in your boy, he’s gonna screw all of this up for you.

IC-During a break of the summit that was going on in Washington D.C., Prime Minister Vanessa Moerike gets the news, “A Soviet unit has deployed nuclear ordnance in defence of a Libyan invasion force heading into French-backed Algeria. Apparently, there was an incoming French air attack that was rumoured to contain nerve toxins that was aimed at crushing the Libyan attack in one fell blow.” She almost swore as the Pentagon official brought her up to speed.

Apparently France had been using gas attacks for a while, whenever they ran into trouble that they couldn’t handle in Africa, but this was going to be the largest WMD attack since the end of WW2. France was in this thing up to its eyeballs, and these were obvious desperation moves. But then the Soviets launched two nuclear missiles and took out the entire incoming attack in one attack.

“This has gotten completely out of control. We cannot allow the world to sink into total chaos while we sit here and talk of peace. The long-standing Quinntonian policy under Jesse Obed had always been to get involved wherever there was use of nuclear weapons, I think that this is a valid time to do so.”

Soon, the White House Press Secretary was facing a barrage of questions from the press:

“What is the Prime Minister’s position on this?”

“Does this signal a Soviet intention to make good on all of the threats that they have been making against Quinntonia all o these years?”

“Does the government believe that this was a legitimate defence in regards to the incoming criminal attack by France?”

“Why does our government not leap to defend the attacked peoples in Gibraltar and Portugal?”

“What is ….” At this point, the Prime Minister walked briskly in, flanked by Secret Service.

AS she takes the podium, she pauses and crosses herself, “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, my administration thus far has been about peace and not getting involved in others’ affairs. However, while I have taken this course, our brothers and sister in Christ the world over have been attacked and lost their way. The King of France, Louis August, and his Spanish allies have proven that they cannot be trusted to handle this issue on their own without falling to the level of the most dangerous of us. So it is time once again for a Quinntonian presense to be felt in the world.

First, to France and Spain; you steadfast refusal to listen to reason has led us to this. You have spurned the brotherhood of your Christian friends across the sea, so I must give you an ultimatum. You must answer in the affirmative to every part of the British peace proposal within 2 days, or Quinntonia will enter the war on the side of the anti-Holy League Coalition. Spain must especially give up both Gibraltar and Portugal, and do so in the same amount of time. France must also pay the war reparations in earnest, along with reparations to be made to Portugal by Spain. Morroco will be forgiven their part in this conflict, but refusal to ask HL soldiers to leave its borders will result in their government being considered criminal and part of the problem.

Also, with the use of nuclear weapons, Libya must immediately surrender to Quinntonian forces and be disarmed. I am now ordering both the Fifth and Sixth Fleets to immediately move to engage Libya if they do not agree to do so within 72 hours. And be warned, we will consider any nuclear deployment against Coalition forces an attack against Quinntonia, and a nuclear response will be issued immediately.

I have just left a conference with Royce I, who is in Washington at the League of Nations conference, and he has agreed to form an alliance with Quinntonia to disarm the government of Libya. They have also agreed without reservation that they will carry the fight to any who attempt to defend the criminal Colonel, the Terror of Tripoli. This Coalition will also be joined without reservation by Japan, as I have just been in conference with my good friend the Prime Minister of Japan. They have also agreed to join in the defence of freedom and to make the world safe from warmongers who would use WMDs and nuclear weapons.

Ladies and gentlemen of the press, and my fellow Quinntonians, I order that every church in the entire nation and in all of the land of Mexico be rung for the next two days as we wait the answer from the Libyans, Spain and France. I ask that tomorrow be declared a day of prayer and fasting and that all non-essential personnel stay at home to pray in support of our nation as we take up the burden of our cross once more, for in two days, we may be at war.”

She immediately walks out of the room as the Press Gallery explodes.

She walks directly into her war council. She orders the entirety of the armed forces to go to Full Alert, and orders the mobilisation of the entirety of Tier 1-All active reserves. They are ordered to report to their stations within 5 days time. The next Tier (a call up of all able bodied retired combat officers) is put on alert. They need to be available within 7 days of the order to call them up.

The entire Second Fleet is ordered to move back away from their positions, and ordered to rendezvous with a Roycelandian Fleet that may be coming to their position.


Second Fleet: Atlantic Ocean from the North to the South Poles
Assets:
2 Carrier Battle Groups, including:
Mary Mother of God, Moses (based in Norfolk, Virginia- 2 Nimitz)
5 Tarawa Class Amphibious Assault Ships
5 Austin Class Amphibious Assault Docks
4 Whidbey Island Class Dock Landing Class Ships
4 Harper’s Ferry Class Dock Landing Class Ships
2 Arliegh Burke Class Guided Missile Destroyers
2 Seawolf Class Attack Submarines
2 Virginia Class Attack Submarines
1 Kraken Class Super Dreadnaught (Roycelandian Purchase)


The next order was to the Fifth and Sixth Fleets, since they had already been moving to rendezvous before going to Gibraltar, they moved from their position in the Aegean Sea south and towards the North African Coast, making for Libya. They were taking every precaution from submarine warfare, with constant patrol and the latest in detection technology being implemented, along with bringing the world’s most extensive satellite network to bear on the situation.

Fifth Fleet: Middle East, Indian Ocean:
Assets:
1 Carrier Battle Group, including:
Paul (based in Manama, Bahrain- 2 Nimitz)
2 Austin Class Amphibious Assault Docks
2 Ticonderoga Class AEGIS Cruisers
3 Oliver Hazard Perry Class Frigates

Sixth Fleet: Mediterranean Sea
Assets:
1 Carrier Battle Group, including:
Mark (Based in Geata, Italy- John F. Kennedy and Kitty Hawk)
2 Ticonderoga Class AEGIS Cruisers
2 Arliegh Burke Class Guided Missile Destroyers

OOC-These numbers are all pre posted here:
http://z9.invisionfree.com/NS_Modern_World/index.php?showtopic=5&st=45


She also orders a full half of the complement of aircraft that were based in Rammstien, Germany, to Geata, Italy.


The Soviet ambassador from BG is asked if he would like to be escorted out of the nation, or would like to continue the talks, under even heavier guard?

WWJD
Amen.

She also orders a full half of the complement of aircraft that were based in Rammstien, Germany, to Geata, Italy.


Quick interjection - Italy is a member of the Holy League.

IC:

China to cease military-related trade with Portmeirion (Xinhua)

Beijing has announced that military-related trade with the Soviets will be temporarily ceased following the nuclear detonation over Libya. This is an apparent about-face by Emperor Zhang, who made a speech asking that the world powers not be too hasty about going to war. Zhang also announced the government would be looking into extending the embargo into raw materials, potentially threatening the lucrative and rapidly expanding trade in artworks and traditional medicine.

The move is risky for Zhang. Sino-American relations are almost as low as during the Filipino crisis, and recent polls suggest only 50% of Chinese have a favourable view of Quintonnia, down from 85% two years ago.

Atlantic

The Chinese fleet continues northwards, running a full CAP and ASW patrols. The fleet approximately 1000km to the SW of the Azores.

OOC: I kinda added a bunch, including a list of unreasonable demands. Whee!

Raliegh, Australasia

"Hmmm... have a look at this." Deputy Foreign Minister Spader and Deputy Prime Minister Jangala were enjoying an unusual opportunity to play power politics from Raliegh, rather than forward reccomendations to their respective chiefs, who were busy doing God knew what in Washington.

"What is it-- something from Mainwaring? Bloody man never responds to our communiques anyway, what does he expect from us now?" Jangala wasn't so much a fan of the Motherland as Strathairn. He read through the telegram with growing irritation, not to mention unease.

"It's a peace deal, sir," Spader said, nursing a snifter of whiskey and idly puffing on a cigar. "Seems to be about Gibraltar and Portugal-- only thing the Walmingtonians care about, really." Jangala fixed the Deputy Minister with an unpleasant look.

"I can read." An uncomfortable silence ensued, as Jangala lit a cigar of his own.

"And..." Spader prompted. He was honestly curious. Jangala gave him a superior look.

"Of course not. I wouldn't put Australasia's seal on it if they payed me. France offered us better terms than that, and we rejected them. Since then, nothing's really changed. Strathairn want's Louis-Auguste's head on a pike, and while peace with Spain might be nice, I hardly expect Phillip to abandon his own brother-in-law to the evil, progressive hordes. I'm going to forward it to Strathairn, but I don't expect anything besides him telling Mainwaring where to stuff it." Spader grimaced.

"That might be bad. Can I suggest a change of tone?"

First Forward Command, Cyprus

Well, that was the last of them. A squadron of Cavaliers touched down, landing gear thrumming on the newly paved runway. C-130s were still landing on dirt airstrips as the logistics groups struggled to pave the airfield in time for combat operations to start.

Brigadier Jameson had picked one of the larger quonset huts-- one of the few attached to the power grid. They were bringing in his office stuff now, a pair of aircraftsmen and a staff sergeant wrestled a desk, a few filing cabinets, several maps, some computer readouts and a few odds and ends into the back room.

So Jameson was watching life go by at the newly built airbase, soon to be renamed something suitably heroic, but for now known simply as FFC Base. Ground crews hurried to fit AMRAAMs, BVRAAMs and ASRAAMs to the patrol going up in a few minutes. Largely uneccessary due to similar RAF patrols, perhaps, but standart proceedure nonetheless.

He reviewed his orders, relayed to him by Vice Admiral Denning via telegram. The Island Fleet was moving out, intent on making a series of cruises westward of Crete, while negotiations were underway with the local government. The First Forward was to support the fleet against League airpower deployed from Itay, while the Naval Air Corps made strikes against nearby targets.

To that end, three squadrons of Cavaliers and one of AF/A-18Es were to accompany the fleet on its cruise, and land on the carriers for refuelling after their own fighter screens take off. Something of a logistical nightmare, but doable with a good ground crew.

FCS Royal Sovereign, the next day

Denning was still asleep, which was a welcome change from the norm. The vice admiral was known for his all-seeing, all-criticizing eye, and Rear Admiral Thaddeus Wilberforce was glad to be rid of it. The younger man rather enjoyed the view from the flag-bridge of one of the fleet's battleships, the grey decks painted a reddish by the rising sun. The long shadows of the guns, striking sailors as they swabbed the deck and went about the usual exercises of life at sea.

Wilberforce had a tendency to wax lyrical before his morning coffee and tour of the ship, a habit that he had held onto since he was made captain of his first ship. He liked seeing what his men were doing, how they did it and with what cast they looked on him. If they were industrious, cheerful and welcoming, he was glad. If slothful, irate and insubordinate, Wilberforce was concerned. It wasn't only out of curiosity as to the men's wellbeing that he took his tour. In his opinion, morale was as important as the quality of the ships, the size of the guns or the number of the missiles.

Early morning, underway. It was a wonderful life. Their patrol would take them near Crete, to Lybia and back. A few air forays into League controlled territory, a few strikes. If they were lucky, they'd cut the League's airpower a bit, perhaps poke a nose in at Malta and see how the weather was.

FCS Tonnant, temporary flagship, Atlantic Fleet

Vice Admiral Damascus missed his ship. The Victory was laid up and awaiting repairs for damage to X turret sustained during the battle, as well as a repainting and the repair of minor puncture damage. So he was obliged to transfer his flag to the last remaining heavy of the Atlantic fleet-- much depleted and numbering only four cruisers, five destroyers, two submarines and a battlecruiser undamaged-- and take his smaller force to join Admiral Longworth for a somewhat silly propaganda cruise through the Strait of Gibraltar.

But Longworth, in a not-so-surprising move by the Knights Admiral, had been granted the temporary rank of Admiral of the Ocean Sea, the highest rank in the Australasian sea service, making him the commander-in-chief of naval operations for the course of the war. Heavy responsibility, to be sure, and Damascus carried the insignia pin in his pocket, to present to his new commander.

Strangely enough, Damascus didn't entirely resent the appointment of the younger Admiral in his place. His best days were over, and he'd likely be remembered as the man who lost the Glorious 12th of June. As a grand strategist, he was mediocre at best-- he was a tactician, able to win battles, but not wars.

And he was looking to retire soon. Another spin or two around the ocean, perhaps another fight with the French-- on his terms this time, and he'd be done.

Washington D.C

And she thought that she'd just be killing time for the next few days.

Christina was up to the brim of her fedora in work. She'd set up shop in her hotel room, with several laptops open, the TV tuned to BBCWorld, and the coffee maker on all the time. Her cellphone chirped every few minutes, mostly people calling from Raliegh and wondering when the hell she'd get home to do their jobs for them.

One press release done-- wasn't there a press secretary to do that? One speech written--Strathairn was a good speaker, but he couldn't write. So he had a staff. A staff, dammit. One global nuclear threat analysis parsed-- at least that was part of her job description, and... oh. Whoops. She'd forgotten to do that.

She fired off an email to Royce I, urgently requesting some kind of conference, or meeting, or late night sojourn on the White House lawn. She promised to bring the tequila, if he got the chips and dip. And then she sent word to the Prime Minister's office for similar talks, but signed it with Strathairn's name. He'd want to talk to the woman with the multiple-thousands of nuclear warheads, no doubt, rather than leave that to one of his cabinet ministers.

Quite simply, she didn't know how to react to the sudden change in the situation-- it was something quite literally without precedent in Australasian history. Two close allies going after another, for supporting a neutral state in its use of tacnukes against a sworn enemy. What a tangled--

"Hello?" Curse her cellphone, anyway.

"Christina, It's me. Do you have that speech?" Oh, Strathairn. Yes, she was supposed to call him.

"Yeah, I have it here. Look, don't you have secretaries for this sort of thing? I mean, come on. I'm trained to make the world's problems go away, not write your--" The prime minister cut her off.

"Excellent. I'll come by in a bit to pick it up. I owe you." Damn right he did.

The Park Across the Street

Well, it was a nice backdrop, anyway. The Marines had cleared out the park across from the White House, firmly requesting that everyone sod off and let the cameras in. They waved their guns--unloaded-- for effect, and with the help of the Metropolitan Police, they managed to see off even the anti-smoking rally that had taken up permanent residence there. Nothing like the thin red line to clear an area. That barmy lady who was protesting... something... was still there. She actually lived in a small, multi-tent complex there. Didn't shower much, probably didn't eat enough either. But hey. Keep the cameras from getting her in the shot and they'd be fine.

Strathairn was standing at the foot of Andrew Jackson's statue, looking well groomed and well dressed. Of course he did. She'd picked his outfit.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Some hours ago, the French ODSE launched a massive attack on the city of Tripoli, armed with VX nerve agent. Projected casualties could have been over a million people, such was the size of the French attack. However, the local Lybian commander ordered two nuclear equipped surface-to-air missiles to intercept the French attack, largely destroying it. There were no civilian casualties as a result of the nuclear missile attack, although some twenty or thirty may have died when one French bomber got through the defense screen.

"The Free Colony of Australasia takes no stance on the issue, but requests that both the United States and the Empire of Roycelandia keep in mind that the aggressors were the French, their target was clearly nonmilitary and they were armed with a weapon of mass destruction, prohibited under the Geneva Protocol of 1925, to which France was a signatory.*

"Neither I, nor my government, supports the use of nuclear weapons in any way. However, we do not wholly condemn the local commander for acting to protect the lives of the people of Tripoli, an act in which we can find no moral fault. I further request that the Third Commonweath does not involve itself in the affairs of Lybia, and allows the disarmament to take place peacefully. It is imperative that the democracies of the world recognize that the Holy League must be held fully accountable for its crimes against humanity, including the firebombing of Accra, and the ICBM attack that claimed over seven thousand Australasian citizens. This war is not just about Portugal and Gibraltar, it is about standing against tyranny. And if I may, I would like to envoke an old Quinntonian saying here: United we stand, divided we fall.

"The Holy League would like to see us fall, that is beyond doubt. Australasia is unprepared to sue for peace after the gross atrocities committed against the human race by the League powers of France and Spain. However, peace may be achieved if France and Spain submit fully to the following demands.

"Firstly, France must withdraw all armed forces from Africa, the Pacific Islands including New Caledonia, French Guyana and any nation or territory outside of the Holy League. The aircraft carriers and battleships of France must be delivered, disarmed, to Australasian or British forces. The army of France must be disbanded, and never again to exceed one-hundred thousand men under arms. The ODSE must be disbanded, and never again to exceed two hundred fighter aircraft. It may not posess strategic bomber wings. The nuclear, chemical and biological arsenal of France must be eliminated. This includes the napalm derivative UGC. Further, the ICBM arsenal of France must be destroyed. Louis-Auguste, King of France, must stand trial for crimes against humanity.

Spain must accede to all demands made of it by the United Kingdom of Great Britain. Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen."



*I, um, really hope that exists in AMW.

OOC-I realise that at one time there was a player, Doomingsland, who played Italy as member of the HL. However, he has long since disappeared, and now Italy can be seen only maybe as a tacit supporter of the League.
And, under Doomingsland, I made sure that he agreed that the Quinntonian military base in Geata would still be there, just as I did when Germany was recently taken over.

WWJD
Amen.

[OOC: Pissed that Morocco doesn't want you? And, I'm not NG's 'boy', but good try though. :) ]

There was only one simple answer, "Spain refuses."

Preperations along the Atlantic Coastline
The Spanish Army prepared for full war on its homeland. Never in the history of the modern state of Spain had a nation defeated it and conquered it - not even Napoleon. She was, again, prepared to fight for her survival. Spain was strong, and she had no reason to accept the bullying of nations who thought themselves superior but were no better than termites. For those very reasons the Spanish army was deploying from the strategic reserve inside Spain to the coastlines, preparing for a fight for her life. The Portuguese legions, well armed with Spanish and French technologies, deployed along the central plains of Portugal - almost 60,000 men and at least 150 tanks. Northern Portugal, Galicia and the entire strip to Bilbao was occupied by the Spanish 1st Mechanized Army, or around 250,000 men. The crux of this was well armed, but not necessarilly as well trained as the beginning core of the Spanish army - given the short months Spain was able to fully mobalise when war was declared, although a large deployment had been made before hand during the build up. The 2nd Mechanized Army had been deployed along the Eastern coastline of Spain, and had a similar number, while the south was occupied by El Tercio and the 2nd Legion, totalling around thirty thousand men. Soon enough SPADEC would turn into the 3rd Legion and be sent to the same area, increasing numbers to around 45,000 men. All in all, the front was occupied by around 545,000 men and somewhere around 700 tanks, with various artillery guns and a very large number of surface to air missiles.

The strategic reserve was formed up by the remaining 300,000 or so recruits, who would undergo training until the invasion began and then deployed where there were the most threats. The majority of the industry along the coastlines and Portugal were beginning to move inland, much like the Soviet industry in Leningrad had been moved to the Urals. During the Spanish Civil War both sides could muster armies greater than one million men a piece, and the current Spain was ready to unify and build an army of two million men, if necessary. It was obvious that after the first hundred thousand Spanish troops would begin to lose training, but the type of warfare in Spain did not favour highly trained and mechanized armies, and Spain was no push over, either. Spain had a history of improvisation during combat, and it was fully ready to take advantage of what it had done in the past to defeat armies that attempted to land on her soil - like it had done in the past.

It was obvious that Spain could not stand up to the strength of the American, or allied, fleets, but Spain was not looking for any projection power. Most of her current survivability trade as of now came from Russia, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Italy, Algeria and Morocco, which were all easily accessible, even if under blockade. So, the idea in the sea would be purely hit and run tactics, slowly wearing down the allied fleets to the point where the expense was far too costly to put up with. It was also obvious that the Spanish airforce, despite recent expansion [over 250 air attack aircraft], was nothing compared to what the British and American could put through their aircraft carriers, and so Spain would take a valuable lesson from history and make it impossibly for enemy aircraft to operate over her skies, period. Spain was even going as far as copying Pac 2 missiles that had been sold to her by the United States decades before, installing better Spanish electronics to match it with her Aster 30s, and give the United States some of its own medicine. Hundreds of batteries were going up all over the coastline, and all over the central part of the country. To combat close air support operations towed and self-propelled anti-aircraft artillery was already been put up to the front, ready to blast any aircraft out of the air, and MANPADs were integrated at platoon level.

Factories were ordered to go to full time war time production [originally they were between 60% and 90% production], producing Leopard 2Es, Spain's new Aster 30/Pac-2 hybrids, H&K G36Es, Milan anti-tank missiles, imitations of Russian RPG-29 rocket propelled grenades, et cetera. The peninsula was turning into a fortress. If the allies were to take back the land they had lost it would cost them thousands of lives in blood, and every inch would be made so that it would not be worth the conquest. At some point factories would be told to stop worrying about the heavy mechanization and start worrying about infantry weapons, but that point had not come yet - that would be when the situation on the ground was desperate. Truth be told there was a good chance the invasion forces would be slaughtered on their beachheads, but there were always other chances as well.

Nevertheless, Spain was prepared for total war under the slogan, "The American legions will be buried in the sands of His Most Catholic Majesty's realm."

The Roycelandian Government has publicly condemned Spain's "Unco-operative" attitude, with His Majesty further confirming Roycelandia's intentions of operating with the Quinntonians. Already, a fleet of Dreadnaughts and the Aircraft Carrier IRNACS Harpoon are meeting up with the Quinntonian Second Fleet with a view to taking action against Libya.

Reinforcements are also being sent to RSAlg and REA, with positive statements also being made about China's "very reasonable and commendable" decision to cut off arms sales to the Soviet Bloc...

Frankly, Spain is only willing to cooperate if it's accepted that Spain offer it's own point of view to the final peace agreement. At the current date there is no peace, just an ultimatum, and Spain doesn't feel that it needs to bend under the pressure of an ultimatum at this point. Spain has already said multiple times that it is willing to cooperate - the only uncooperative attitudes are those of the United States and the United Kingdom.

((Jesus Christ, cant you people have the decency to wait for a response? God almighty. Imp not nuking England right now because I’m waiting for BG to remit using nukes, but that will happen as soon as he denies such.))

Versailles, standing firm with Spain, is forced to spit upon the disgusting Anglo peace offer. Limes are rotten, and so are their pale fat ministers.

The Escorial and Versailles will fight to the end, and the ‘allies’ be damned. They can try, but will swim to Europe in pools of their own blood.

Protestants are rounded up in France and Spain. By the thousands. It does not take a fool to see the writing on the wall. ICBM’s are pointed upon England with glee, fully armed. Of course, they are pointed to many more places than the Angle pigsty.

If the west wants total war, bathed in blood till Armageddon, then the Holy League shall be happy to supply them with such.

Moroccan Preperations
Several trainloads of ordanance were assembled in Milan and at the Franco-German border city of Strasbourg, these trains were destined for the port of Malaga, and then from there to Morocco, these would supply a new force of Defence Volunteers, a cocept not unlike the Home Guard deployed formed by Britian in 1940, however these units would be far better armed and equipped. Several shipments of the weapons were destined also for the regular army, who were still short of weapons in several key areas.
SIC:-
Shipment Contents from Strasbourg:-
G3A3 Battle Rifles
H&K Grenade Machine Guns
MG3 Machine Guns
Mistral MANPADs systems
MILAN Anti Tank Missile Systems
Euromissile HOT-3 Anti Tank Missile Systems
81mm Mortars
PzH 2000 Artillery Systems (100)
Rheinemetall 105 mm Rh 105-20 Guns on towed artillery mountings [modified to allow 0 degree elevation] (120)
Rheinemetall 155mm L52 Towed Artillery Guns (250)
MG151-20 Derivatives (350)
General Ordanance

Shipment Contents from Milan:-
Twin Breda Fast Forty SPAAG with PAR (200)
Twin Breda Fast Forty Towed Gun (250)
OTO Melara Mod 56 105mm Light Guns (80)
Puma 6x6 AFV (150)

EDIT:
The cargo Ship Maghreb and its three companions, Rabat, Sidi Fidi and Casablanca cruised in the Sicilian straits, it had a simple mission, to deploy all the mines that had been stored in its holds. This was an important part of the Holy League War Effort, it would prevent the Australasian units from entering the vital shipping lanes between Morocco and Spain. The mines being deployed are mixed CAPTOR and Magnetic triggered types, purchased from the Spanish Navy for this purpose. The humungous cargo ship and its three companions deployed hundreds and then thousands of mines, as they began to run low, another squadron of four cargo ships came out and replaced them while they returned to harbour to reload. It was a constant process and as they worked the last easy way into the secure areas of the western mediterranean was closed

OOC: Strathairn's actually rather unhealthily thin. But pretty pale. Also, Mac: What are the defenses (ground and AA) in the Madeira islands? Something that ~30,000 troops could take with air support, do you think?

IC:

Fort George Missile Silo, classified location, Australasia

The Free Colony operates exactly five ICBMs. They are Minuteman III-like knockoffs, not particularly large or powerful by comparison to some that exist in the world. Four are armed with non-nuclear payloads, similar to the one which devastated Buenos Aires several weeks ago, albeit much smaller. One, though, contains three nuclear weapons, and it is designated ANM-01.

ANM-01 is guarded at all times by a regiment of Royal Marines, and the codes to launch it exist nowhere on paper. They are memorized by three people, Prime Minister Strathairn, Defense Minister Creighton and General Herbert Penn.

General Penn, under direct orders from the Minister, walked into the Silo control room, unlocked the targetting controls, and inputted the latitude and longitude of Paris, France.

He then locked the controls, walked out of the room, locked it behind him, and drove back to Raleigh.

France, in a secret communique, was informed that it was advised against launching its nuclear weapons. It was also advised against committing any other humanitarian crimes, or similar, with regards to the Protestants that it had rounded up. London was informed, most publically, that any nuclear attack on the British Isles, its forces or colonies would be treated as one against the Free Colony.

Hansen Air Corps Base, outside Villa del Porto, Azores

With the addition of a new fighter squadron to the command, it had been designated the Second Forward Command, and reports said that two reserve squadrons of AS-6 Air Superiority Fighters were being temporarily reactivated for service. They were decidely fourth generation, but had served the Colony well enough for over two decades. They would fill out the Second Forward's numbers until either more AF/A-18 Super Hornets could be purchased from the United States, or the second AS-12 factory began producing in earnest.

In the meantime, another strike was authorized, this time against the Spanish posessions in the Madeira Islands. Three squadrons of Cavaliers and one of Templars would accompany the 89th, whereupon they would target all anti-air emplacements on the islands. The Vulcans carried only a single cruise missile this time, leaving the remainder of the space for the weapon of choice for Monarchist France, UGC. The Templar strike fighters were slated to carry ALARMs, backed up by wingtip ASRAAMs and the standard 35mm cannon.

The pilots climbed, somewhat laboriously, into their small cockpits. They were intimately familiar with them, now that the Second Forward was running 24 hour a day CAP, and would be for the forseeable future. They launched by squadron, forming up before the main event.

The Code Room, Raleigh, Australasia


Quinntonian and Roycelandian vessels are to be permitted to dock, repair and rearm at any Colonial Navy base without prior, specific approval in the event of armed conflict with the Third Commonwealth. Quinntonian and Roycelandian shipping may fly the flag of Australasia for protection for the duration of such a conflict, and be afforded the full available protection of the Australasian Navy to the extent that we are able.

Please understand, we are unable to offer military support due to the complex political situation and the urgent need for all military forces to fight the current declared war.

OOC-

Gurg, please stop. It is inane for you to continue while every move you make may be challenged OOCly in the near future.

I am standing by to nuke the world, including you. All posturing is moot after Australasia is gone. Granted, France will be gone too, but I wish to be very very clear, so will, in order of volume: Britain, you, all major African cities, Yugoslavia, Hindustan, Spyr, Germany, Denmark and of course Beth Gellert. Very probably I will lob the rest off at Quinntonia and China. I have done the math. France, IRL, has a very sizeable nuclear arsenal, and the Restoration only saw massive stockpiling of very heavy duty nukes. Without Spain, I have the capability to do this, with Spain, it is a beyond done deal.

No matter how well you prepare, this is endgame. I.e. AMW is over in all shapes and forms, save a few nations and a radioactive world.

I dont mind being picked on by nearly all AMW ICly, even OOCly. At the same time I have no problem, as Spain and I are unrealistically attacked by the entire, I say again, entire world, sending everyone who thought they would take a piece of France or Spain into nuclear oblivion.

So dont just trot on smiling, we are almost done with AMW.

Codename Operation Fuerza
The IDS Tornado flew at high altitude over the middle of Moroccan occupied western sahara, it was deserted, there were no human beings within a hundred kilometres, just as well for there was no ordinary weapons aboard this aircraft, it carried a single weapon, the most powerful weapon in the Moroccan Inventory, the Type One Alarm Clock Nuclear Weapon, although its small primary charge was Spanish built and significant amounts of the fissile material in the bomb came from Spain, the secondary stage of the weapon was entirely Moroccan designed and built, and that was what was important.
The tornado dropped the snub nosed device and lit its reheat, speeding away as the bomb fell towards its optimum airburst height.....
As the bomb hit the correct altitude, the weapon detonated with the force of nearly one hundred and twenty kilotonnes of TNT, it was official, Morocco was a nuclear power. Although it only had enough fissile material and spare primaries to build five or six more weapons, additional shipments of both had been promised by the Spanish, indeed they wanted there weaker allies to have as many weapons as possible, just incase the peace conference went awry.

EDIT:-
NATIONS OF THE WORLD
At approximately 1350 hours this afternoon the Sultanic Kingdom of Morocco detonated its first indigenous nuclear device, as you are well aware, Quintonnia is afraid of the increase of Nuclear proliferation in recent years, thus we hereby declare a no first use policy on our nuclear weapons with a yield over 50 thousand tonnes of TNT equivalent.
:- Official Statement -:

[OOC: I'm assuming that your aircraft are getting closer without you having to actually write it out; or else, I can't respond to that post.]

F-74 Asturias, Eastern Atlantic
The small, older frigate was alone in the water, some 70 nautical miles from Lisbon. The ship had been commisioned in 1975, which was old enough to consider it ancient. Indeed, it had been comissioned the year Franco had died. However, it had recently seen an upgrade which had installed it with a powerful radar, albeit at the cost of reducing armament. Unfortunately, Madrid had not been very inclined at the idea of reinforcing it with the recently built six new Álvaro de Bazán frigates, which were the newest class in Spain's naval arsenal. Nevertheless, the Asturias was not really deployed to fight; in fact, it had orders to retreat if it found anything coming close to it, although it was armed with enough surface to air missiles to stop a raid, and a small number of Harpoon II anti-shipping missiles just in case. Regardless, it was now commiting itself to the principle job - detection air raids coming from the Azores into Spain, or in a southwards direction towards Morocco and Spanish islands off the coast of Morocco. Inside the ship operators worked hard, around the clock, to protect their comrades on the ground.

A sudden chirp rose some suspicion, but after an inquiry one of the operators said, "I don't hear anything, sir. Must have been something weird. Maybe they're heading into France?"

The head radar operator shook his head, "I don't think so. Keep lookin'."

They were there for at least another ten minutes before the first serious high signal strength radar waves were returning to the various antennae on the ship. The same operator suddenly had his eyes flare wide open and he began to exchange yells with the head operator, "Sir, we have 30+ incoming bogies. Seems like they're headed in a southwardly direction. May I venture to guess the Canary Islands, Madeira or Morocco?"

"I see that, José. Let's warn the boys on the coast."

The Australasian had been caught, and now they were going to face their first major setback against Spain.


GX.1 Foward Airbase, Outside of Lisbon, Portugal
Lieutenant Alberto de la Reina, piloting a Spanish Eurofighter, hurd a gurggled, "This is the tower. You are clear for take-off on runway 3." He nodded, almost to himself, and pushed the throttle up a bit to allow his aircraft to taxi onto the runway. de la Reina was somewhat nervous. This would be the first time he had a chance to really pick fights with enemy aircraft. It appeared as if the Australasians were launching a raid south, and the Spanish planned to launch a complicated attempt to not only halt it, but annihalate it! The four squadron of Spanish aircraft leaving Lisbon, along with two Portuguese squadrons, were ordered to head a bit north for about ten minutes, before suddenly turning south once again and heading behind the incoming Australasian raid.

With his orders in his head de la Reina throttled the engine of his aircraft and the Eurofighter pounded down the runway before suddenly taking-off and heading north. Behind him, and alongside him, the other fourty-seven Eurofighters followed him, and finally the twenty-four F-16s. These seventy-two fighters carried each four MBDA European Meteor medium-range air to air missiles, and another two IRIS-T short-range air to air missiles. As soon as all six squadrons were in the air they began to fly north at an altitude under two thousand meters, and then they slowly turned south and positioned themselves behind the Australasian air raid.

GX.74, Canary Islands
The red streaks of engine output gave some color to the black asphalt of the airstrips. These streaks followed the quick moving bodies of thirty-six Eurofighter Typhoons, carrying the same missiles as their counterparts coming in from Lisbon. Besides them, from other airfields, rose older Spanish Dassault Mirage F.1s, numbering twenty-four. These sixty aircraft were ready for a head to head clash with the incoming Australasian aircraft. For this reason they had all their electronics turned on, giving the Australasians clear signals that they were coming, although by the time they were close enough to the Australasians it would be too late for the latter anyways to really deploy for a fight. The Australasians had just entered the teeth of Spanish aerial defenses that were designed to cut-off any incoming raids and annihalate them with as much ease as possible.

Of course, losses were inevitable, but they always were.

[OOC: I'm not sure if you have anything to respond to for operations up to this point. I'm going to keep on writing the plan out because I think up to now I'm in the green, as far as you not being able to respond just yet goes. But I may be wrong.]

Madeira
"Boom, boom, boom, boom." The long chord of sudden explosions woke the local populace up. They could see missile after missile rise into the dark skies of the Eastern Atlantic Ocean. The Aster-30 long-range missiles shrieked as they rapidly covered the distance between the islands and the incoming raids. Their chances of impact were decisively small, as what thought, but they would serve their purpose. The enemy would have to break-up to avoid being engaged by the Aster-30s, and that would create the perfect sequence of events in preperation of the anvil and hammer defense operation being carried out by over one hundred Spanish fighter aircraft. There were even three squadrons of Moroccan Dassault Mirage IIIs, armed to the brim with Israeli Python-5 air to air missiles, ready to engage the Australasian aircraft with a vengeance. That put total strength at 168 aircraft.

[OOC: I'll let you respond. The Aster-30s may have been launched too early to be really effective, but that's fine. I wasn't expecting to use them as a main line of defense in this case, anyways. The idea is to fire them, confuse your pilots, close in from the front with the aircraft coming from Madeira and Morocco firing their medium-range missiles first, and then quickly closing the gap to get into a pure dogfight, and finally have the 72 aircraft coming from Lisbon simply hit 'em from the rear.]

OOC: I'm even less familiar with air combat than sea combat, so if I screw up majorly, do please call me on it. Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but he Eurofighter's ferry range is 1390 km, not quite enough to get to the Azores, much less to re-enforce or defend the Canary/Madeira islands. Post pending on your response.

OOC: I'm even less familiar with air combat than sea combat, so if I screw up majorly, do please call me on it. Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but he Eurofighter's ferry range is 1390 km, not quite enough to get to the Azores, much less to re-enforce or defend the Canary/Madeira islands. Post pending on your response.

[OOC: Oh, I assumed your fighters were going to raid Madeira? The idea was that when they were around 400kms or so from Madeira to launch two 'pincers' from North Africa/Madeira/Canary Islands and from Portugal, and simply catch you in the middle of all of that. I don't have my Encarta 2005 installed, because my computer crashed while I was in Spain, but Madeira is closer to Spain than the Azores are.]

AA-36 AWACS/JSTARS aircraft, 45 km South of the Azores

"Jem! Jem! Will you look at that." Sergeant Christopher Botting was responsible for the monitoring of the Madeira Islands, principle target of the air raid, as well as nearby facilities such as the Canary Island base. His post was the AWACS board, the nerve-centre of the enormous, saucer shaped radome that sat above his head.

"Crikey," Lieutenant James Pickler said, staring at the screen. "Someone, get Major Lavisser on the horn, inform 'im of the situation." Sixty some aircraft had just left their bases on the Canary Islands, showing up as bright dots on Botting's readout.

"Jem, missile launches! SAM batteries of some kind, guessing Aster-30s from the range-to-target. No chance of a hit, they'll burn out before they get close. Still, best let 'em know before the flyboys get scared. Advise Major Lavisser that he has incoming missiles, which are zero-threat."

Atlantic Fleet, 400 km west of Portugal, ELINT room, FCS Tonnant
OOC: Guessed at location. It's acting as a defensive screen for Longworth, and is within range of his carrier protection.
IC:

The RQ-4B Global Hawk was perhaps the best investment that Australasia had made in years. The small, unmanned craft didn't come cheap, but they could ferry from Nevada to Australia without stopping, provide detailed information and analysis of enemy forces and, every now and again, tell the Navy something that would save lives.

Such as now, when the Global Hawk off of Tonnant patrolling the Portuguese coastline recorded the launch of roughly a fighting wing of aircraft from Lisbon. They launched quickly, apparently on short notice before making south, for what appeared to be a point between the Madeira and Azores Islands.

"Someone inform the Admiral," Midshipman Stephanie Greene said, her voice quavering. "There's an enemy fighter wing making a raid on the Azores. It'll pass within range of the fleet's SAM batteries in eighty minutes." The other officers and crewmen in the room, few older than twenty. The most senior--both in age and rank, was Lieutenant Tom Ricks, who was now running out the door.

Ricks made the long journey from the ELINT room to the flag-bridge in two minutes, something he accomplished by shoving the more junior officers and men out of his way as he ran from point to point. There was one awkward moment when he faced another lieutenant, whom he was obliged to skirt around on his way to brief Admiral Damascus.

When he got there, he spilled his story to the Admiral, who, rather than ordering an immediate strike, rather got on the radio with Admiral Longworth, informing him of the situation and requesting that a mixed-Fleet Air Arm and Australasian Naval Air Corps force be assembled to defeat the incoming Spaniards.

89th Bomber Wing

"...incoming Aster missiles. Projections show that they will fail to reach your current position, but be advised that Madeira posesses strong AA defences. Also incoming are sixty, repeat, six-zero fighters from the Canary Islands. ETA is two hours, ETE, twenty minutes. Flight characteristics suggest mixed Typhoon and Mirage." Lavisser sighed. Intel. The Australasian intel units were being particularly useless during the past few months, having suggested that most of the Spanish airpower was recalled to the peninsula, leaving only a token force of defenders.

"Acknowledged, we have them. Thanks for the heads-up." Lavisser switched frequencies, now addressing the forty-eight escorts that flew with him. "Incoming bogies, numbering sixty. Arm BVRAAMs and prepare for combat."

He was met by a chorus of acknowledgements, as Australasia's pilots disengaged the safeties on their Chinese made clones of the BAE Meteor. They were mass-produced in China, in enough numbers to fit-out the entire Air Corps with missiles for the duration of the war relatively cheaply when compared with the original Meteor.

Lavisser himself hauled back on the stick, leading the 89th's unarmed Vulcans to the 64,000 foot mark, their operational ceiling. After all, the Vulcans of the 89th would only get in the way of the escorts, and provide tempting targets to boot.

HMS Godfrey-Grace-a-Dieu

Colonel Amundsen jammed the throttle of the borrowed Cavalier to full as he rocketed off the Good Godfrey's flight deck, joining the remaining thirty-one aircraft of the Atlantic Fleet's Naval Air Corps, as well as a dozen Super Harriers and twelve Typhoon of the Fleet Air Arm. Each of the FAA aircraft carried only four Meteor, half of the loadout with which they had flown into battle a few days before. The current force, both smaller and less heavily armed than the Spanish, would be cut to pieces in the ensuing fight, had they been the only ones present.

Fortunately enough, the HMS King Athelstan, Britain's fourth fleet carrier, had recently joined the fleet with a small escort. Her forty-four Super Harrier and Typhoon were loaded with eight Meteor and two wingtip ASRAAMs, and joined the assembling fighter force that northeast on an intercept course with the Spanish sortie, 99 strong. Another Global Hawk UAV tracked the Spaniards on their southwestward trek, loitering at maximum altitude and at the edge of its detection range.

The Anglo-Australasian fighter force clawed its way to maximum altitude, and approached the Spanish sortie from above. The distance between the two forces scrolled down to extreme range for the Fleet Air Arm's Meteor, and the sky-scan RADAR off of a Royal Navy picket designated targets. So tasked, the sixty-eight Meteor armed aircraft, a mixed force of Super Harrier and Eurofighters, launched missiles before diving to engage.

The stealthier Australasian Cavaliers armed with shorter-ranged AIM-120 AMRAAM throttled back, thereby reducing their signature further. At reduced speed, they would come within optimum range after the FAA was engaged, hopefully surprising the suddenly outnumbered Spaniards with a volley of missiles. But even if they were detected, it would hardly matter. The Spaniards would be much too occupied by Britain's naval pilots to break off and snipe at the Australasians as well.

I branched off into my own Austrian endevour, linky (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=506744).

President Hu "neutral" on continued European war effort

In his first press statement on the war in Europe, President Hu Jin Tao has hinted that the unpopular and costly deployment of two carrier battlegroups to Europe may be moved to a pure defensive posture in the North Sea. President Hu cited a general frustration with the other nations comprising the allied anti-league effort, heaping praise on Australasian and British efforts but at the same time accusing Washington of being an obstacle to a quick allied victory.

"The decision by the United States and Roycelandia to bar Chinese access to the canal cost valuable weeks and denied the brave British and Australasian sailors reinforcements - reinforcements which could have turned the tide of the war, while Washington provided no help in that particular conflict. The only naval fleet deployed was in response to a nuclear detonation in Libya that had no bearing on the conflict itself."

"Beijing is committed to the defence of the people of Britain, but believes that the other allied nations could do more."

Scapa Flow, Scotland

"Clear that dock, damn your eyes!" Captain Pierce Murdoch scowled, watching the enlisted men and junior officers scrambling across long-unused jetties and gangways. Lorries, filled with trash and bits of concrete, drove to a nearby dump to divest themselves of their cargo before returning to be laden with the remains of yet another Churchill Wall that barred maritime access to the old port.

The Scapa Flow project was relatively new, and aimed at rehabilitating the closed base for naval traffic. While HMNB Clyde was all well and good for nuclear missile storage, Mainwaring's Whig government and the MoD had come to the conclusion that it simply pointed in the wrong direction for European and North Atlantic deployments. After all, Ireland hadn't made significant trouble in years, while Russia was beginning to twitch and mutter annoyingly to itself in its northeastern corner.

And so funding had been approved to re-open HMNB Scapa Flow after fifty-two years of closure and neglect. The Royal Army Engineers were placed in charge of the project, hence Captain Murdoch's presence. They were, however, obliged to work with the navy to suit the Senior Service's needs, hence Captain Murdoch's profanity. The Churchill Walls, the navy had informed him via memo, were to be completely removed and replaced with modern ASW equipment supplied by the Admiralty. He was to complete this job 'with all despatch', a phrase that Murdoch suspected the Admiralty enjoyed using to remind itself of years past.

So he and his stalwart engineers scraped and blasted, and then they carted the bits off. The docks came next, cleaning, repairing and extending to fit the QEIII, Adamantine, and Jesse Obed class carriers. Next would come the dredging, to clear up all the bits of Churchill's wall and a few unfortunate leftovers of the High Seas Fleet. Murdoch stared balefully at the Royal Navy ensign blowing above his head and sipped at his tea. Bloody Tars.

London, Great Britain

"Well of course we welcome them, you nit," snapped General Sir Jack Jones, First Minister for Defence over a bit of scotch. "The Chinese give us a bloody carrier group to keep order up north, we bloody well say thank you very much, sir, have a nice cup of tea at Portsmouth, sir, and can I take your coat." He paused and looked around, a touch bemused at the expressions on his colleague's faces. They ranged from agreement to outright alarm. "Yes," he said in a slightly more subdued tone. "Well, perhaps without the references to attire, then."

"Implicit in President Hu's offer of aid was a rejection of Quinntonia, though." That was Alan Thunder-ten-tronckh, Foreign Minister of small stature and unfortunate name. "Washington has been one of our closest allies since the Great War, while China's support has been... schizophrenic at best. And then there's Raleigh, which seems to have declared political war on the entire Asian continent. Right now, it might be best to simply ignore the whole thing and see how the situation falls out."

"Oh, sod Raleigh," Jones replied. "Nobody likes them anyway, and China's worth more than Raleigh twice over. They're rich, numerically superior and technologically equal. And they haven't challenged all of Europe to a duel to the death. With China, we can keep our options open."

"And Washington?" That was Deputy Prime Minister Wilson. "You recall, Jones. Owner of the thirteen supercarriers? Best fighter aircraft in the world? General do-gooder? I say we stick with those who have been our allies for half a century and tell the Chinese where to shove it. After all, they speak English-- well, nearly so-- so we can read the instructions on any hardware they give us. Lodge a request for aid in Washington, see what happens. I mean, they can hardly support France after Louis ICBMed a Christian city, right?"

"Look here, Wilson." Jones again. "Spyr, the INU, they've never been more powerful. Even if the Indians still rely on decades-old British castoffs, they've got the ISC to give them those new battleship things. And Spyr, even with their anime-inspired child propaganda, has arguably the most modern armed force in the world. Quinntonia's running on sheer momentum, and eventually the Progressives'll catch up. Who do you want to be supporting when the revolution comes, Wilson?"

"Honestly, Jack. I can't believe that you just said that."

"Well, I can't believe--"

"Oh, shut up, the lot of you!" The bickering cabinet members were cut off by Prime Minister Mainwaring as he re-entered the room carrying a cup of tea and a copy of The Influence of Seapower Upon History, popular reading in national capitals these days. "I nip off to the loo and a sip of tea, and I come back and I hear Jack ranting on about the revolution! Honestly, I don't know why I bother." He collapsed back into his seat, spilling a bit of tea on a comely stenographiatrix.

"Oh, sorry luv. Napkin? Anyway. As I was saying. This is nonsense. Here's what we do-- I'll tell you what we do. Just a moment." He took a sip of tea and inquired politely after the stenographiatrix, who smiled cheerfully enough and refused the offer of another napkin. "Anyway. Yes. Here's what we do. We offer access to Portsmouth for the Chinese in case they need anything major, we throw some pounds at the Aussies and we send someone to chat with Moerike. Sound good? Okay. Settled, then. Somebody inform Beijing."

Somewhere in Northern Spain
Specialist Rodriguez sat in his trucks passenger seat and sipped a cup of coffee that he has so recently poured out of his thermos flask, this was proving to be a long night, and he had only his co-driver and a squad of eight reservists for company, he only hoped that the order would come soon. His targetting coordinates had already been uploaded to the pair of ground launched AS-15 clones loaded onto the rails on the back of his truck, and only awaited the command to let loose his volley.
The Radio crackled and the command came, "Go, Operation Black Death, Go Operation Black Death", the crews of the hundred odd trucks scattered across northern Spain jumped into action, readying there missiles and preparing to fire, five minutes after the message game, they sounded the firing sirens and hit the buttons, sending a total of 240 AS-15 Kent Misiles into the sky, they were targetted at the eighty odd Oil and Gas Rigs in the North Sea. They would stay over france and keep out of range of British Air Defence, swinging wide over the North Sea before turning and taking the fastest route to there targets that would minimise there exposure to enemy fire. The British would not be able to stop more than a small fraction of them without opening the mainland UK to a massive missile assault from Aerial Assets and ground based launchers in Northern France. This war had just gone to the next level. The british Gas and oil supply would be crippled beneath the weight of exploding warheads rending there precious north sea oil platforms limb from limb, there would be numerous disasters on the scale of Piper Alpha tonight. The British would look at there burning oil supplies and realise this was a war they could not win.

In Raipur -indeed, across the Commonwealth- disdain for a conflict increasingly seen as non-Asian is most certainly on the increase. Yes, disdain, as summed-up by the famous comrade Graeme Igo in a recent address before spectators in the Socialist Republic of Vietnam.

The build-up of strategic missiles in little Spain was watched with -there's that word again- disdain in GSIC and People Cosmonautical Co-operative facilities, whose members shook their heads and reacted probably rather differently than their British peers would be.

The Soviet Commune attempted to track the missiles once launched, but with little effort and minimal resources in theatre, expecting that the Walmingtonians would be doing a rather better job of it and of scrambling their virtually untouched airforces to intercept the attack before you'd have time to scoff at Tulgary's potential contribution to the affair.

In India, "The Europeans", says Adiatorix, "are like Australia's snakes.

"They appear to be out in the manner of a plague, slithering into Africa, coiling about one another, hissing and biting.

"In truth, as the snakes come to the cities because they are starving in the parched countryside, so we see the peoples of Europe exploding from their nests, which are stipped bare of resources and hung with the noxious vapours of strained industry coming undone.

"I have no doubt that the Holy League will lose, crushingly, even if left to fight only the Anglophone capitalists, but, I say, I am returning home, now, to cast a medal for the victors, and I shall call it the Phyrric Cross, to be awarded for services to Asia."

ooc-It is more like 20 Fleet Carriers, and counting. And I may be running on momentum, but that is a LOT of momentum. LOL! See my invision stuff.
WWJD
Amen.

Not going to respond just yet, I have homework. But soon, perhaps tomorrow or something. Are you Spain now, Spiz?

Not going to respond just yet, I have homework. But soon, perhaps tomorrow or something. Are you Spain now, Spiz?
Mac, said i could take over, im running a war against the British Isles, but so is Nova Gaul, we appear to be sharing it in a rather weird way, and do the Brits still hold the Channel Islands? If so, what sort of stuff do they have there?

Light music sounded, and the symbol of the fleur-de-lys appeared with the caption above it “Truth over All.” They faded to a stunning young blonde, who meticulously dressed in a smart blouse and pant-suit, sitting on a sort of stool in front of news graphic screens. Their was a studio audience, this of course being royalist state television.

“Bon soir, this is Canal Royale’s evening news. I’m Leni Riefenstahl. God bless of all of you, my loyal and dear fellow subjects.”

Finishing her smiling introduction, she kept the smile, but it somehow became serious as she began the report.

“We begin with breaking news. In just moments ago…Canal Royale has learned that our beloved King, Most Christian Louis-Auguste, and our dearest Queen, Serene Jillesepone, have just given birth to their fourth child at Versailles, a boy!” she flashed those brilliant pearls of hers.

“Vive le Roi, dear brothers and sisters! His Highness le Duc d’Anjou was born at 7:35 p.m. today. There will be a special Mass at Notre Dame de Paris Saturday to bless the Prince, followed by a public fair and concert at Les Champ de Mars. Khaled will be performing.”

“Our glorious Bourbon Dynasty thrives, and God himself lends it nourishment!”

She leaned forward brimming over.

“And save your ration cards for Saturday, loyal subjects! Food and drink will be provided gratis by the King. As a matter of fact, looking at the menu,” a wink “,I’d say save your ration cards for the week.”

The audience hooted and whistled, there were loud cries of “Vive le Roi!”

She got sort of serious again. “In frightening news, the demon lord of Beth Gellert, Sopworth Igo, recently gave a speech brimming over with hate. Sopworth, seen here in our file footage…”

It faded to what was, for all intents and purposes, a goblin. Canal’s Sopworth was about four feet tall and seated on a kind of perverted throne made of human skin. He had green skin, a lower protruding jaw with yellow tusks rising from the bottom, and a forked red tongue that lashed over greasy lips as he writhed in Satanic ecstasy and chanted Communism! Communism! Totalitarianism! I will eat the Pope and Europe’s tender babies!.

“…has called for his lackeys in the Anglo lands, namely the vile English Godfreyula, to prepare to launch missions into Holy Catholic lands. The purposes of this mission, loyal subjects, is to steal away your sweet children and noble priests for dinner!”

The audience became venomous now, throwing even in some cases their shoes against the writhing graphic of Sopworth Igo. They jeered and booed.

Leni took in the crowd’s momentum, before triumphantly proclaiming:

“But, by the power of Heaven, Our Glorious and Invincible Sun King Louis-Auguste shall never let this happen! He will fight off the Anglo-Bolshevik-Islamic conspiracy, and dispatch them once again to the abyss! Le Patrie shall remain inviolate!”

The graphic of Igo was slowly replaced with the safe and secure image of King Louis-Auguste, and the audience cheered again and exhibited a real state of relief, some people clasping their hands together and praying.

After the relief and cheering subsided, Leni moved on.

“Here is an interesting story out of the Brittany region. A young and virtuous maid, loved by all for her allegiance to King and God, was playing her harp in the woods a few days past when the legendary unicorn appeared to her. They frolicked for a long while together in the sunshine before the unicorn healed her ill mother and again went into the magical realm.”

“Some unfortunate subjects, still with venomous and conspiratorial republican/communist/evil proclivities, dismiss such stories of magic and the purity of the French realm. For the real story on such events, we have invited the Chair of the University of Paris’s Biological Science Department to elaborate on such whimsical stories, which have grown exponentially since the Restoration of Right. Dr. Joral, thank you for being with us tonight.”

The cameras turned to a typical academic type, only missing a pipe and tweed blazer.

“Thank you for having me, Leni.”

“Dr. Joral, why is it that unicorns, angels and fairy’s and the like have begun to appear in Holy League nations, our precious Kingdom included, only after the Restoration?”

“Its really quite simple, ma cher. When such condensed amounts of virtue and Godliness and defense of the right are concentrated in geographic localities, magic tends to spontaneously happen.” He sat back, content and awaiting more questions.

“If I understand correctly, Monsieur Joral, you are saying that because Almighty God has blessed us with a mighty and righteous King, and because Our Glorious Sun King has again restored the primeval values of our Catholic land, the Kingdom of France with God’s consent has become a sort of ‘magical paradise’?”

“Exactly, Mademoiselle Riefenstahl! This virtuous maid is a case in point. Condensation of all the qualities God finds dear in one body results, in a proper and virtuous land, in a spontaneous emission of magical power! Whether it be a unicorn, bright fairy, or dancing sylph; or bright, warm, tangible rainbows, obedience to our divine hierarchy, as established by the Most Christian Kings and His Brethren, the Lieutenants of God and Christ, exults us above the normal, and puts us in touch with the divine and fantastic.” His point made, he was flushed with victory.

“God bless you, Dr. Joral, and may the heavenly host assist in your future research.”

“Thank you Leni. And who knows? Maybe one day, you will be the virtuous maid who finds the unicorn!” to which Leni blushed, muttered and waved something about ‘oh, you’, and allowed the audience to begin its applause.

Collecting herself, she continued, straightening her pant-suit with a still bright smile.

“Onto on main story, our main story every evening, dear loyal brothers and sisters: The War Report.” She took on an air of militancy and authority, but was still delightful in her ensemble.

“We have much to report to you, loyal Frenchmen. And to report it, it is my pleasure to introduce to you our new Chief Investigative Correspondent, who left his work in Quinntonia to come and join our staff at Canal Royale, Michel Wallace.”

And there he was, opposite her in another stool. Mike Wallace. It seems that during an interview he did on Sixty Minutes with Louis-Auguste at the beginning of the war Versailles made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. And so, after an intense immersion course in the French language and propaganda, now would be the second loudest voice behind the stunning Riefenstahl in the Kingdom’s news media.

He grinned and nodded to Leni after which the cameras focused in solely on his visage.

“Bon soir indeed. Tonight, brave and nobly loyal subjects, I am honored to present to you the first of a two part series: African Liberation. I went into the zone of conflict to get you the real story behind rumors. I went to answer the question, is our Holy Catholic state winning? More importantly I went to answer the rumors of abuse and neglect. What I found will both startle and hearten you.”

The scene then changed to Mike Wallace riding in a Gazelle helicopter as it swooped in to a pad in Arx, formerly Lome. In the background Douce France played on the helicopters speakers.

“I began my research, appropriately enough, by meeting with Le Merechal de Gueret, His Most Christian Majesty’s Supreme Commander in the region.” The shots showed Wallace leaving the helicopter and taken by a jeep convoy to the Headquarters. In no time at all he was sitting opposite de Gueret. They had obviously finished a good meal when the discussion began.

“Monsieur le Merechal, there are a number of questions about the Kingdom of France’s success in the West African theatre thus far. What is the situation?”

“Michel, we are winning. As you can see by these maps and charts, we have liberated Cote d’Or from the rebel clutches of evil. We have taken losses, yes, true. Yet these few losses in men and material are completely overshadowed by the gains we have made thus far. I predict that within the month our righteous cause shall have freed the majority of West Africa.”

“That sounds pretty optimistic sir. What proof can you offer to back it up?” Mike played his part to the T.

“Why, the people of West Africa are with of course. Go and speak to them, and you shall see why our humanitarian mission is assured.”

The scene then flashed the Wallace walking a work camp outside Arx as he narrated.

“That is just what I did, noble Frenchmen. I took my questions to the Africans His Most Christian Majesty liberated.”

A older woman was shown, cradling a baby.

“Mam,” said Monsieur Wallace “, are you happy or sad that the Most Christian King and the Kingdom and France has saved and liberated you?”

“Why, happy, of course,” beamed the woman. “Before God’s men came, our children were taken away as slaves and food for the evil totalitarians.”

“You mean the Progressive powers?” asked Wallace.

“Don’t be absurd, they are not progressive, they are evil! My little baby here was orphaned after the Igovian’s, working with their British mercenaries, arrested her parents for praying in public to Our Lord Jesus Christ. They tore them limb from limb, and gave their land to vicious monsters, our land, in the name of wicked communism!”

She grew hot then joyful. “But all that is over now, now that God’s Lieutenants have come to save us and our souls!”

Michel Wallace kissed her on her head before moving on, only to be greeted by a hundred or so well fed and dancing natives, in bright dress. Again he narrated:

“No sooner had I left Madame Lumbabma, the happy grandmother, than I beheld a joyful dance and demonstration in honor of the liberator of benighted Africa, King Louis-Auguste.”

The dancing people bellowed out the tune in heavy bass. “Oh, days of evil and slavery are past, says good King Louis-Auguste! Days of plenty and happiness are here! Death to the Anglo lackeys of the Progressive monsters, and may the monsters burn in hell! Oh, God save our Good King Louis-Auguste and his bountiful assistant in mercy, Prince Leopold!” And so on.

That scene then faded, and Mike Wallace was back in Canal Royale’s studio. Leni was astounded.

“Michel, that was incredible. Can we see the second half now instead of tomorrow?” Mlle. Riefenstahl was very eager.

Wallace just grinned. “Sorry Leni, you will have to wait. But don’t worry, it will be worth it, I went behind ECOWAS lines, and again what I found will both startle and hearten you!”

“Well, God bless you Michel!” The cameras were again focused in on her.

“That is it for tonight’s broadcast, loyal subjects! Remember to stay tuned for Charles Martel: The Hammer following us.”

“As always: Courage, we shall have them yet!”

“Vive le Roi!”

The Roycelandian Broadcasting Corporation- long renowned for their independence and relative impartiality- were also running a series of programmes on the current war, along with interviews from the war zones with the troops on both sides, and small item showing Roycelandian troops securing the Suez Canal, and Roycelandian Dreadnoughts at each end of the Canal, along with some Australian and Quinntonian ships as well.

The popular hunting and travel programme On Safari devoted the entire hour to how one might about tracking and hunting the Unicorn, if indeed such a creature did exist.

The general consenus was that a Unicorn would be very much like one of the many species of Deer found throughout the Empire, and could be taken in a humane, ethical, and sportsman-like manner with a medium or fullbore calibre round, such as 6.5x55 Swedish Mauser, .303 British, .30-06, or 7.62x54R.
Of course, it would also be posssible- for Purists- to take one with a muzzleloading firearm, or even a bow and arrow or crossbow, provided one could be sure of making a clean shot.

It was also conceded that fairies should not be shot at, and anyone attempting to shoot an angel would face criminal charges as if they'd tried to shoot a human.

Finally, His Majesty appeared on the news to assure the Empire that there would be no rationing, and no taxes as a result of the war. "It is vital that the Roycelandian Empire provide a stabilising influence during this difficult time, and we can't do that if we are hungry or if more of your paycheques are being siphoned off to finance a war we aren't involved in at this time."

To be honest, I really have no idea how a Kent behaves, and I'm going off of a line from Wikipedia saying that they could be tracked on Doppler-- like low flying aircraft-- and destroyed in a similar manner. I figure that they weren't particularly agile or unpredictable, and they're kind of old so their stealth doesn't really compare to a Storm Shadow. But yeah, I kinda fudged it. I hope it still works out fairly.

As for the Channel Islands, I have no idea. Probably some missile defences, maybe a few sandbagged fortifications and a small number of troops. They've never been particularly useful or important to Britain, and will be immediately ceded if necessary. Women and children have been largely evacuated, men are joining home guard troops.

Are you going to respond to the air combat, then? I'm looking forward to giving you a bit of a thrashing. :P Lastly, since it's been so long, could you both give me an idea of the locations of your naval forces and air forces, as well as fixed air defences?

The North Sea

"Not much out here, eh?" Flight Officer Ickes yawned, hands resting lightly on the controls of His Majesty's E-3 Sentry aircraft as it patrolled the North Sea oil platforms. Nothing but slate-grey water for miles and miles, and a charming Scottish girl waiting at home with coffee and a hug. Would that he was there, rather than in this high-tech aluminum tube 30,000 feet from the ocean surface with a few companions who played whist companionably over a table.

"I have something on scope," Technician Daniels broke in, bending over the Doppler radar. "Reading ten, twenty, fifty, eighty, one hundred contacts and climbing!" Suddenly, the aircraft was a hub of activity. Men upset their card table as they ran back to their places, strapping in and observing their instruments carefully.

"They're missiles-- AS-15 Kent, sir."
"Two hundred ten. Two hundred thirty. Two hundred forty. Telemetry data indicates that they are targeting various North Sea oil platforms." Daniels paused before continuing. "Two hundred forty confirmed." The words hung in silence for a moment.

"Radio command, inform them of the attack and append all radar data via databurst."

Britain

Two squadrons of Typhoons screamed down the tarmac, joining their fellows en echelon as they cruised northwest. They joined another two squadrons from northern Scotland before breaking the sound barrier and rocketing towards the incoming missile flight. Bourbon Spain's outmoded cruise missiles showed up brightly on the doppler data fed to each aircraft via a pair of E-3s that had taken up station nearby, tracking their steady flight meticulously.

On the ground, a small portion of the nation's air defences came online, tracking the Kents on Quinntonian made radar of Cold War vintage, designed to defend against a nuclear attack on Northern Britain itself. Patriot missiles fired a few volleys against the first real targets with which they had ever been faced. Some twenty Patriots targeted their opposite number in Kents, cruising low and fast.

As the Patriots passed below the Royal Air Force's four squadrons, the pilots themselves lined up targets from amongst the incoming missiles. Target locks were instantaneous, fed to them by the E-3s. They fired once, twice, three times at the incoming missile cloud. Their own missiles, medium-ranged interceptors, quickly outdistanced the larger Patriots, destroying the leading edge of the attack. The Kents, alike in most fashions to small, terrain hugging aircraft, were decimated. Even so, eleven missiles got through. Britain's pilots attempted to engage them with cannons, scoring another kill at extreme gun-range.

And then, the first oil platform was hit. Two of the Bourbon cruise missiles impacted the deck, instantly causing an explosion that painted the world red. Black smoke billowed from the listing wreck as it slid into the ocean with a groan of tangled metal. Another unlucky missile was caught by a falling support beam and exploded uselessly, but the remaining seven continued on. British pilots, hoping to score easy kills, fell in behind the Kents. ASRAAMs trailed fire as they leapt from Typhoon wings, scoring yet another kill. A rookie pilot allowed himself to drift too close to the sea as he marked his kill, and a wave caught his wing. The aircraft spun suddenly along its long axis and plunged into the frigid North Atlantic with an explosion of jet fuel.

The remaining Kents impacted, one after the other. Six platforms were hit, and five columns of smoke marked five 'kills'. The last was lucky-- the missile had failed to explode, no doubt a victim of shoddy Spanish engineering. When the populace was uneducated enough to believe codswallop about goblins and unicorns, it could hardly be expected to clone and manufacture complex weapons of war. In the end, Britain's casualties amounted to one pilot, fifty four platform workers and seven oil platforms. Monetarily, the damage was severe, but Bourbon Spain's hopes to cripple Great Britain in one attack were absurd to begin with.

London

The Canal Royale broadcast, pirated by British intelligence services and recorded, proved to be amongst the funniest things that the people of Great Britain had seen in some time. The BBC ran it as a special one evening, and ran up the highest ratings of the season. Quickly posted to YouTube with a dry British voice making the occasional wisecrack overlayed upon the broadcast, it became popular viewing in Australasia as well. Most Britons looked with a mixture of derision and pity upon their southern foes, finding it difficult to hate people so ineffably stupid as the French. If anyone actually believed Canal Royale's merde, most thought, this would be a very short war indeed.

Popular response to the Spanish attack, however, was rather more serious. The Spanish flag was burned in Trafalgar Square, along with an effigy of King Phillip VII. A wreath was laid at Nelson's feet, which was soon joined by hundreds of others, as if an injunction for the admiral to return to life and dash the hopes of France and Spain once again. If the French were objects of scorn, the Spanish were objects of hate.

Cadiz
The Avalon was almost ready to complete her mission, the Spanish fleet was getting ready to sail, her Rafale-S fighters were gone, replaced by Helicopters and a full complement of 904 Soldiers, all four of the fleets ampibious landing ships were fully loaded with the rest of the third tercio, the entire unit was being commited to this mission, the mission that would be the first of many such combats against the anglophone enemy, and the first blow was not to be the most devestating, it was mearly a warmup, and another attack on enemy morale. The target was the channel islands, they would be the first peice of british soil to fall, but by no means the last. The Legion were just serving in a shock formation role, they would soon be replaced with spanish regulars, the better to ensure that excessing raping and looting did not take place. The Principe de Asturias was fully loaded with Rafales, ready to provide cover for the fleet, even though its entire voyage would be within range of land based air cover, but one could never be too sure.
The fleet left on the evening tide, heading north and staying as close to the shore as possible, a quartet of S-80s taken from regular patrol duties guarding there seaward flank from small stealthy surface vessels and submarines alike, they would be made to pay for declaring war on the borboun kingdoms, and the price would be high.
OOC: Since time is fluid, id rather finish off this story line before going back to one of Macs ones, so we dont have too many loose ends to tie up afterwards.

Defence re-organisation in Britain (Xinhua)

China's assets in Britain will be returning to China for a resupply break. The 2nd and 3rd carrier fleets have been out to sea for the better part of 6 months and sailor morale is running low.

Beijing has informed Spain and Egypt that the fleet intends to return via the straits of gibraltar and the Suez canal.

(Secret IC : This coincides with a Sino-Russia peace agreement)

That's rather awkward for a few reasons, but mainly because a fair bit of Britain's naval airpower, about 100 fighters of the FAA, were committed to attacking about 72 fighters of the Spanish air force. I rather assume victory with those odds, but it might well be a costly one as Eurofighter fights Eurofighter and Mirage fights Super Harrier. But, ah, what's the naval composition of your attack?

Off the coast of Spain, HMS Queen Elizabeth

Admiral Eric Longworth-- Admiral of the Ocean Sea to the Australasians, watched with interest as the Spanish battlegroup departed from Cadiz. In the weeks since the battle of Cape Roca, the Royal Navy had re-armed via supply ship and received the first wave of returning Australasian vessels, fresh from minor repairs in the Azores. Heavily damaged ships, mostly Free Colonial destroyers and frigates, were being rebuilt in Portsmouth.

The Royal Navy had escaped largely unscathed from the Battle of Cape Roca, and Longworth found himself rather amused by the Franco-Spanish claims of victory. Certainly, they had caused His Majesty's government to expend a fair few pounds, but that paled in comparison to the losses suffered by the French and Spanish. Of course, the Australasians had fared the worst, losing two capital ships to faulty intelligence and scoring inexplicably few hits with their own superheavy guns. The Spanish and French were forced back to port with varying degrees of damage and a few losses of their own, most especially in the way of France's ODSE.

But Spain was chancing the waters again, this time alone. Her heavy cruisers, heavily armoured by comparison to Britain's thin-hulled missile destroyers, would be hard-pressed indeed to manage two battleships and a battlecruiser. Their small carriers were barely superior to the old Through Deck Command Cruisers of the 1980s, and when faced with a fleet carrier would likely be forced to retire or be destroyed. Much like the days of wooden sail, Britain's fleet had flung out scouts to both the north and south, while keeping the main fleet some distance from the Straight of Gibraltar and slightly to the north-west. In whichever direction the Spanish sailed, the English fleet would follow. The strategy was basic, but it had served the Island kingdom for roughly four hundred years and the Admiralty was ill-inclined to change doctrine now.

OOC: The Majority of the Surface Fleet of the Spanish Navy
IC:
Just off the Portugese Coastline
The Fleet hugged the coast, staying almost within site of it, no more than eight miles from safety, this should prevent the Brits getting wild ideas about trying to engage them with aircraft or with surface units, they would have to come within range of ground based firepower, where they would be slaughtered. But there not much the surface force could do about the British Navy out there, sitting pretty as they watched the Armada like hawks, atleast there was nothing the surface navy could do about it, but the submarine service was another matter

Cadiz
Eight S-80 submarines sailed out the harbour, since Phillipe had come to the throne, the Spanish Navy had hexoupled its fleet of S-80 class submarines, and several more were at various stages of completion at the fleet yards in the mediterranean, the Spanish Navy was a growing submarine force, and now the theories of submersible warfare against surface assets would be practiced for real, there mission was to penetrate and engage the priamry formation of the Progressive Fleet north west of Gibraltar, if they could sink the capital vessels that made it up, they would have a good chance of doing a great deal of damage to the myth of Australasian and British Naval Dominance, and tip the balance of power in favour of the Spanish Fleet, and its two cousins, the mighty French Navy and the tiny Morrocan Fleet, that was limited to a handful of frigates patrolling the Gibraltar area and critical shipping lines in the Mediteranean.
The Submarines were amongst the most advanced in the world, and crept out towards the targetted fleet at a fraction of full speed, in the darkness of the depths they became silent and as good as invisilbe, unlike there quarries, the hunt was on.

Holding a copy of the French proposal for peace, the same ones delivered and rejected months ago by Zhang, President Hu Jin Tao called for a ceasefire and the beginning of peace talks to assist the situation.

"It is blindingly clear to all sides involved that the cost of further escalation will be terrible." Hu says, referring to threats of nuclear deployments in Libya and rumours of French deployment of VX.

"I appeal to the leaders of the world to consider the very reasonable plan for peace proposed by Versailles. British interests are taken into account. Quintonnian interests are taken into account. And with slight amendments to the proposal, I believe that objections raised by Africa can be nullified."

"Beijing will no longer fight in Europe and will not be replacing naval assets withdrawn from theatre."

Holding a copy of the French proposal for peace, the same ones delivered and rejected months ago by Zhang, President Hu Jin Tao called for a ceasefire and the beginning of peace talks to assist the situation.

"It is blindingly clear to all sides involved that the cost of further escalation will be terrible." Hu says, referring to threats of nuclear deployments in Libya and rumours of French deployment of VX.

"I appeal to the leaders of the world to consider the very reasonable plan for peace proposed by Versailles. British interests are taken into account. Quintonnian interests are taken into account. And with slight amendments to the proposal, I believe that objections raised by Africa can be nullified."

"Beijing will no longer fight in Europe and will not be replacing naval assets withdrawn from theatre."

What, specifically, is the 'entire surface fleet'? I can't find much of a force list. Also, if we do engage in naval combat, let's wank our CIWS a bit less than 12th June, shall we? And, um, you realize that the Grand Fleet is some fifty ships strong after the Australasians joined up, about twenty-thirty of which are destroyers and frigates optimized for ASW missions and fleet defence?

ASW Picquet

Type 22 Frigates were something of an oddity in the Royal Navy, a throwback to the Cold War during which the fleet had been dedicated to North Fleet ASW defence. They were fitted with some of the best sonar of their time, slightly outmoded now but still perfectly capable of detecting enemy craft. The four Type 22s, accompanied by HM Ships Ark Royal and Illustrious, as well as the three remaining Rapier class submarines of Australasia formed the ASW picket of the Grand Fleet. Helicopters of various types, mostly Merlins, Lynxes and Sea Kings, rested on their launch pads in the case of an attack.

The submarines and frigates trailed towed arrays, essentially long trains of hydrophones designed to detect the quietest of enemies. The Australasian submarines floated between convergence zones, engines stopped as they drifted with the ocean. Aboard the FCS Epee, the sonar room was silent save the breathing of the operators. It was hot and slightly stuffy as the crews breathed the bottled and scrubbed air. Sweat dripped down their foreheads. A Chief Technician suddenly became the centre of attention as he raised his right hand, the signal that he had heard something slightly irregular amidst the white noise of the sonar.

A message was sent to the conn-- 'possible submarine contact,' followed by an approximate bearing. The commander wasted little time, immediately ordering that the hydrophones be spooled up and simultaneously-- not bothering to warn the fleet's sonarmen to protect their ears-- firing off the Quinntonian-made active sonar array.

To the sonarmen aboard the frigates and submarines, the noise was loud indeed as their hydrophones magnified it tenfold back into their ears. But within moments, the rest of the picket was pinging away as well, attempting to locate the intruders. Lynx helicopters lifted off from the Ark Royal, reconfigured as a VTOL anti-submarine carrier, dropping sonobuoys and readying their torpedo launchers. The Grand Fleet, some eight kilometres distant from the picquet, began a series of choreographed maneuvers in which the fleet carriers and battleships, largest and most vulnerable targets, were swiftly surrounded by rings of frigates, destroyers and cruisers. The fleet zigzagged, smaller ships throwing up titanic roostertails while the larger battleships and carriers roiled the sea behind them into a foamy, choppy mess. Escort vessels dropped noisemakers like confetti, filling the nearby sea with cavitation effects and making the job of a submarine's fire-control officer a waking nightmare.

Perhaps the confusion aided the Spanish submarines, for it took a few minutes before the first was detected by the frigate HMS Cumberland. Its position was relayed to the dozens of Lynx helicopters, and five of them diverted from their slightly frantic patrol to destroy it. They closed range rapidly, the sound of their rotors audible from the decks of the picquet ships as a thwock-thwock-thwock noise. The position of their target fixed, the Lynxes each fired a torpedo, which dropped like a slate-grey fish into the water. Trails of bubbles followed them as the weapons made a beeline for the Spanish submarine, unspooling metre after metre of wire behind them.

The sonobuoys, dropped in huge numbers as the first warning of a contact came through, began to yield results. Another four contacts were made, and Lynx helicopters off of Ark Royal and Illustrious deployed to hunt the prey that they had been built to kill, the submarine.

Grand Fleet

Admiral Longworth smoked his pipe on the weather deck of the HMS Queen Elizabeth, one of Great Britain's older battle carriers that survived the 1966 fleet review only by the skin of their metaphorical teeth. Updated faithfully since then, the ships were slated for retirement in 2009, to be replaced by the new Godfrey class, one example of which sped along to the portside stern, easily keeping pace with its older relatives.

Longworth, his sandy hair blowing in the ersatz wind created by the ship's high speed, read a message just received from one of the scout aircraft deployed to the north. Spanish warships had passed the Straights of Gibraltar and were now sailing under the increasingly extensive Portuguese missile defences that dotted the newest part of Spain's rather pitiful empire. Crafty, the Spaniards. Not particularly unexpected, but crafty. He momentarily longed for the days in which British warships could approach just outside of cannon-shot from an enemy coast, flying the Union Jack defiantly and crushing enemy fleets within sight of friendly land.

But, as with much of the British Empire, those days were over. Even so... Longworth clasped his hands behind his back, report tucked beneath the right elbow and strode jauntily inside the slightly listing flag bridge.

"Signal the Australasian cruisers and destroyers to commence fire on the enemy fleet. Feed them the target co-ordinates and data." The fleet ops officer, a lieutenant commander, acknowledged the orders and began sending the target data. Longworth crossed the listing deck and strapped himself into the admiral's chair, a beige affair with a small, airliner style seatbelt. The deck swung crazily as the ship made another sharp turn.

"Australasian vessels acknowledge the order," the ops officer said. "Awaiting orders." Longworth paused for a moment, envisioning the Spanish 'Armada' as it made its way northward, apparently intent upon some form of attack against the British Isles themselves. The admiral smiled ironically. Landings on Newry might have once been a viable tactic, but after the elimination of the Newrian Republican Army and the creation of a Newry Parliament, there was little in the way of armed resistance or revolt. Perhaps they intended to attack the Channel Islands, then? Oh well, they weren't important.

"Please inform the Australasians that they may shoot when ready." Moments later, the Mk. 41 VLS systems of the Colonial ships fired, sending three or four Tomahawk anti-ship missiles on their way per launcher per second. A cloud of smoke followed the Grand Fleet on its chaotic course as it sliced the water into overlapping sawtooths, and the Air Search Radar was suddenly lit by nearly one hundred and fifty missiles.

The missiles, Tomahawk Anti Ship Munitions (TASM), cruised along the ocean surface at top speed. They gulped down their fuel, enough for one-way travel from point A, the Grand Fleet, to point B, the targets. They were spread semi-evenly amongst the Spanish ships, with certain preferences made to larger vessels like the Bourbon Heavy Cruisers or Spanish carriers. The missiles were programmed to pop up shortly before impacting, fly to a randomized altitude between twenty and a hundred feet, and then descend once again upon the Spanish warships. It was a slight modification of a Granit missile attack pattern, shown to be effective in simulations against western navies--specifically that of the United States--despite their familiarity with the tactic.

OOC: Gurg, ASW doesnt work like that, you fire off your active array, it migtht tell you approximately where i am, but itl tell me exactly where you are, and youl have torps and missiles flying at you in a few seconds.

IC:
"Conn Sonar, Multiple Transients, i show twin surface screws ahead, quite distant, the analysis computer recognises it as the HMS ArK Royal, the god old Invincible, i read 4 Type 22s in the area aswell, seem to be no birds in the air at the moment"
"Very Well....."
At that moment the hull of the S-91 shook at a powerful ping rang through the hull, the sound that no submariner ever wants to here.
"SHIT, I have two passive reflection contacts from submarines, from the signature id say Rapier-class, and the sonar was a Quintonnian type, the computer is giving me a printout of the classes its fitted on, and top of the list is Rapier, i think we have three confirmed subs"
"Weapons, Conn, report"
"Tubes 1-4 loaded with twenty one inchers, five and six are loaded with Harpoons"
"Sonar, Conn, feed targetting data for the closest Rapier suspect to the Weapons station, and estimated range and bearing for the closest Type-22"
"Conn, Sonar, i have multiple birds of various types in the air, bearing on our last known posistion"
"Sonar, Conn, did the enemy get good enough data to shoot at us yet?"
"I dont think so, sir, they hit the whole area with a ping, they probably just got a wide area bearing on us, not good enough for a shot"
The plan was for each target to be engaged with a predetermined target package, subs with torps, surface vessels with Harpoons. The original plan had been to try and sneak past the sub picket, but since they had most likely picked up a transient of some kind, so the picket had to be eliminated.
The plan had gone to backup-Alpha, which would commence in ten more seconds, five, four. "TORPEDOES IN THE WATER, reading ASW types, one is tracking on us, four others on S-92 and S-93" two one, "ENGAGE PLAN ALPHA-BLACK!" yelled the captain at the top of his voice.
The Torpedo and Countermeasures officers didnt acknoledge, they had already hit the appropriate buttons on the control boards to complete there part in the operation, all they could do now was pray.
The two seconds after the torpedoes entered the water, the first pair of tubes fired, sending two 21" torpedoes against an enemy sub, the one that had pinged, half a second later, the next two tubes fired, sending two more at the same Rapier submarine, then finally the last two tubes fired, a second after the first pair, sending a pair of Harpoon launch canisters into the water, they broke the surface and deployed, a pair of missiles heading for a Type 22 only a few kilometres away, there would be no escape from the missiles. Meanwhile the other subs followed similar attack profiles.
But this left the torpedoes still tracking on three subs, two each on S-92 and S-93, and one on S-91. Every submarine launched two countermeasures and cut there engines, while simulataneously filling there ballast tanks and coming to full right rudder, throwing them into a silent spiral shielded by a massive cloud of noisemakers that would as good as blind the lightweight ASW Torpedoes, two of them started circling the noisemakers, trying to hit a target that wasnt there, while one of the remaining three tracked onto a noisemaker managed to blow it apart, adding more noise to the area and filling the sonar of the ausstralasian and british navies with more indecipherable noise, one of the others was decoyed back towards the Rapiers by the captain of S-93, in a wierd double twist maneuvre, but his sub was caught by the remaining torpedo, which popped the shaft seals and killed the entire crew within seconds as it began its death dive to the seabed, but the damage was done, thanks to sloppy ASW work, and some Sonarman too eager to switch to Yankee search, the Progressive Sub Picket was as good as gone.
4 Torpedoes were now after each Rapier submarine, and that one suspected Rapier that had never been confirmed by the analysis computer, four Harpoons were after each Type 22, and 16 missiles were after Ark Royale, coming from wildly disparate angles, the ship was as good as gone, but that left 4 21" torpedoes unaccounted for, they were bearing on Ark Royale as well, after the U89 had found it without a target to which to commit its torpedoes.

Off Portugese Coast

The Missiles were picked up by a flight of four Rafale-S aircraft flying CAP off of the only carrier carrying fixed wing aircraft, they dove towards the titanic wave of missiles, loosing wave after wave of MBDA Mica missiles at the oncoming horde of subsonic missiles, but they only managed to kill 49 weapons with there entire stock of MICAs, so they accelerated and got in behind them, firing cannon rounds into the back of the wave, killing another eighteen by suffering two losses from fracticide, two more Tomahawks fell form these same explosions. Which left 91 missiles, the Rafales broke off, as the weapons got within 40km of the fleet, leaving about 3 minutes till impact, at one minute out, the next flight of Rafales left the deck of the carrier, spingin around using there Thrust Vectoring to bring there own stock of missiles to bear, as the support ships started firing SM-2 and Aster SAMs, targetting the low flying missiles, together they wiped out all but 8 of the inbound missiles, two bearing on the Aragon and the other six on various F100 Frigates, then the CIWS opened up, killing both missiles headed for the Aragon and stopping many of the other missiles, but two F100s wer hit, both were lost, the Mendez Nunez and Blas de Lezo had fallen, but they would be avenged by the submarines.
The Fleet continued north, leaving the rescue missions to Ground Based Helos, while two squads of Eurofighters were scrambled and used to provide an additional CAP over the fleet, which would be maintained all the way to the targets.

Quinntonian ambassadors to Versailles and Madrid make rushed communiqués to the governments to whom they are representing, explaining that Quinntonia would not take an attack on the British Isles lightly.

This coincides with a flurry of communication between the Quinntonian and British government about the nature of their arrangement. Are they in, or out of NATO, what was their final position?

Of course, the commander of the Carrier Battle Group Mary Mother of God, ironically the one that was tasked with keeping an eye on the Catholic powers, gave the order to move his fleet ahead of the incoming Spanish one, and putting a CAP of F/A-22 Raptors into the air and having their choppers and escorts ready for anti-submarine warfare. They were already ahead of the Spanish Fleet, closer to the Isles, but they were going to put themselves between the Spaniards and the Isles.

They register their routes with the Holy League and British governments broadcasting their position at all times, showing that they do not wish any aggressive stance.

OOC-Where are the numbers on the incoming Spanish Fleet?

The numbers for the Mary Mother of God are:

2 Nimitz Class Aircraft Carriers (85 aircraft each)
4 Ticonderoga AEGIS Cruisers
6 Arliegh Burke Class-guided missile destroyers
4 Oliver Hazard Perry Class Frigates
8 Las Angeles Class Attack Submarines
3 Sacramento Class Supply Ships (1 Outfitted as Hospital)

And they are currently paired with:
1 Kraken Class Super Dreadnaught (Roycelandian Purchase)

WWJD
Amen.

Well, evidently. But Goddamn. I was waaay drunk, and I plead Posting Under the Influence in my own defence. Oh well, time to take my lumps, I suppose. But the party was fun, so you win some and lose some. My carriers seem to be having a rough time of it, though.

I must say, though, I count twenty four harpoons and sixteen torpedoes launched in the space of less than a very short time. It'll give me an excellent idea of where you are, will it not? Excuse my somewhat spotty knowledge of ASW warfare, if that's not true, well, ah. Lastly, I've entered into negotiations with NG for peace on rather favourable terms, I think he's spoken to you about it. Anyway, check TGs.

ASW Picquet, HMS Ark Royal

Captain Alan Massey blanched as sixteen harpoon missiles burst from the ocean's surface some two kilometres distant. He swallowed as the Phalanx guns chattered their response, watched two missiles explode and another shudder with multiple hits while the remaining thirteen raced onward, black specks against their blue-grey trails. The damaged missile lagged slightly behind before being hit again moments later, this time falling into the sea with a splash.

"Sea Darts!" Massey's voice was frantic. "Fire Sea Darts!" The weapons officer, a young lieutenant, stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"No Sea Darts, sir." Massey could have cried. Of all the things to cut from a carrier to improve deckspace, you take its missile defences? A Type 22, no idea which, fired its own CIWS guns at the oncoming missiles, taking a further two. The Ark Royal's Phalanx systems fired again, killing two more missiles and catching a third with shrapnel. They were clearly visible now, small black arrowheads that trailed fire from their tails. Massey had the presence of mind to scream "Get down!"

When the missiles hit, there was only a gentle shudder, and time seemed to slow. Massey imagined his wife and children, met by uniformed officers of the Royal Navy in their finest dress. They would come to the door, identical brown moustaches and blue coats. Possibly Wavy Navy rather than regular, solemn men who saluted and presented the King's apologies. When the explosion came to the Ark's captain, shattering windows and filling the bridge with hot air and flame, he was imagining his wife on their wedding day, beautiful in white, holding his hand as they shyly kissed in front of friends in tuxedos, Sunday best and Naval Dress. He smiled--

A harpoon had impacted the bridge, destroying everything inside instantly. The others, enough to sink the ship individually, reduced the vessel to nothing more than a keel, a bow and some deck plating. Jet fuel ignited and the ship sank almost immediately, leaving a burning oil slick on the surface to mark the grave of one thousand men and women.

It would not be the only casualty of the fleet that day. The commander of the Epee would take the secret behind his bungle to the grave as the Australasian submarine was struck by three torpedoes, the last having been hopelessly confused by the bubbles and the noise that surrounded the Spanish submarines. The three torpedoes tracking Ark Royal found themselves tracking its sinking wreck instead, impacting it only minutes after the harpoons had sent yet another Anglo-Australasian carrier to the bottom.

The other two submarines were luckier. FCS Scimitar dove, trailing countermeasures and seeking a thermal layer in which to lurk. The torpedoes tracking it had not yet gone active, and when they did they tracked said countermeasures rather than the submarine itself. The Flamberge, an absurdly lucky submarine in this short war, fired off its own noisemakers and made a break for it to the northwest at best stealth speed before coming around again four minutes later, listening for the sounds of Spanish S-80s.

The eight harpoons that tracked the Type-22s were, in light of recent events, not particularly unexpected. Goalkeeper guns fired automatically, followed only a short time later by the short-ranged Sea Wolf missiles. The proven defense systems worked as well as ever, destroying all eight of the missiles. The frigates began to zigzag, launching countermeasures and, as the sonobuoys reported contacts, heavy ASW torpedoes from their triple deck launchers.

Meanwhile, the Lynx helicopters were supplemented by half a dozen Sea Kings from HMS Illustrious, dipping their AN/AQS-13 sonar into the deceptively calm seas, listening for the various sounds made by combat submarines in danger. They were, of course, rather frustrated by the multitude of countermeasures and underwater explosions, but as the engagement wore on, they would more than likely achieve at least a certain amount of success. In addition, MAD arrays, gliding behind the Sea Kings on wires, were deployed as well. They scanned the ocean for the minute anomalies caused uniquely by submarines, operating in a grid-search pattern that slowly shrank, trapping the Spaniards in a tightening noose.

Meanwhile, three Trafalgar class submarines, the somewhat older brothers of the Rapier class, drifted roughly a kilometre and a half west, deep in a convergence zone that partially deadened the Australasian ping. Perhaps they had appeared on Spanish sonar, but more than likely they did so as echoes or ghosts. They waited patiently for the bubbles and the confusion to clear, sonarmen listening intently to the sounds of their peculiar war. Intermittent contacts were raised and tracked momentarily, but they were never really clear enough for the sub's commanders to risk exposing themselves by firing Spearfish torpedoes. So they waited, torpedo doors flooded, ready to pounce upon the slightest mistake.

The Grand Fleet

"Scout aircraft reporting in. They observe two kills, F-100 type frigates." Longworth nodded, fuming as he watched the ASW Picquet flailing about to the east. The Ark Royal, one of his two LPH vessels, had been lost only minutes into the engagement, all signs suggesting another Australasian bungling. This time, it had cost not only the Free Colony, but also the United Kingdom as well. The admiral sometimes questioned whether or not the Brits would have been largely better off without their allies, who had thus far cost the war effort two carriers, several submarines, a battlecruiser and a number of destroyers and patrol boats. On the other side, they had destroyed exactly two enemy vessels, both frigates, and another two by his direct order.

Useless, useless. But even so, their warships were arguably superior to those of the United Kingdom, and under capable command seemed as skilled as any other force, albiet a somewhat poorly trained one. But then, this was the Royal Navy against which they were being compared. It was harder to find a more professional navy on the planet. And if the Spanish felt the need to try its skill, he would happily oblige them. The admiral leaned back in his chair, watching glumly as the picquet attempted to salvage the situation. The Royal Navy wasn't making a terribly poor show of it, although the helicopters would probably require space on one of the already crowded fleet carriers.

Longworth was momentarily tempted to fire another volley of TASMs, but rather expected that the Spanish had diverted aircraft from land to the role of fleet defence, just as the RAF had thwarted a missile attack on the North Sea platforms. He sighed, watching the confusion outside as SAR helicopters lifted off from the decks of the Queen Elizabeth and the Good Godfrey, preparing to scour the ocean for survivors off of the Through Deck Command Cruiser Ark Royal. The Spanish fleet was in the eminently capable-- although slightly grubby and not particularly trustworthy-- hands of the RAF. Godspeed to the flyboys, he thought ironically.

(OOC: I'm sure that the British had replaced their crappy Quinntonian Phalanx with Evolved Goalkeeper, presumably acquired in friendlier days with Tulgary when the Duchy still remembered Britain's harbouring of the royal family during the anti-fascist war, hadn't they? And where's the helicopter-borne missile decoys? And surely Type 45/D Class destroyers are on hand to protect the frigates from air attack with point-defence missiles? And can Harpoon even acquire targets within two kilometres? Hm!)

OOC:
Well, evidently. But Goddamn. I was waaay drunk, and I plead Posting Under the Influence in my own defence. Oh well, time to take my lumps, I suppose. But the party was fun, so you win some and lose some. My carriers seem to be having a rough time of it, though.

I must say, though, I count twenty four harpoons and sixteen torpedoes launched in the space of less than a very short time. It'll give me an excellent idea of where you are, will it not? Excuse my somewhat spotty knowledge of ASW warfare, if that's not true, well, ah. Lastly, I've entered into negotiations with NG for peace on rather favourable terms, I think he's spoken to you about it. Anyway, check TGs.


Itl tell you where they were fired from, but not where the subs are now, as they manuevred and dove, probably taking them below the layer, and BG, You dont put air defence destroyers in the ASW Picquet, since i would have attacked them with torpedoes first, they would be best used defending the main fleet.

IC:
S-91
The submarine had completed its dive manuevre a few seconds earlier, and they observed the somewhat distorted noises of there attack from beneath the thermocline, the noises from the engines on Ark Royals bearing had stopped, and they were recieving massive breakup noises on that bearing and the bearing of the submarine that had made the first fatal mistake on the Australasians part. Now the first part of the battle had been completed, and the seven remaining submarines were going in seperate directions, hunting the enemy in the way they had been trained to, except the enemy wasnt the Alfa and Charlie class subs of the soviet navy, but the ships with which many of the captains had trained all those years ago, it was a difficult transistion for the captains, but they had a job to do, and the Spanish Armada was a professional enough service to do there jobs without question.
"Conn, weapons, all six tubes reloaded with 21" torpedoes, tubes flooded, doors are open"
"Very Well"
The operation had been completed below the layer, where surface and near surface sonars would have found it hard to hear at the best of times, nevermind with all the countermeasures and explosions still going on above them.
"Helm, take us above the layer slowly, no engine power, use the ballast, and try to do it quietly, sonar, stay alert"
The submarine rose silently, its sound absorbing tiles preventing the confused Sonar signals from having much effect on them, or more importantly, preventing them from being reflected back to there enemies.
"Conn, Sonar, we have multiple engine plant noises coming through the noise, i have a big twin screw on bearing 275, probably another light carrier, according to Sat Intel, shes most likely Illustrious, im reading four more engine plants of approximately frigate size on various vectors, i cant get any ranges, just bearings, and those are a bit shakey, they appear to be dropping countermeasures"
"Very Well, pass bearings to the twin screw to weapons, and stand by to fire tubes one through four. Countermeasures, prepare a full spread, conn stand by to take us down, crash dive on my command"
"Tubes ready, firing solutions locked in, thousand yard silent run followed by cone trajectory pinging solution, aye"
"Countermeasures ready on your command"
"Fire tubes one through four! Conn Take us down, all ahead full for ten seconds, then hard left rudder and kill the engines, Countermeasures, fire the spread NOW"
All four discharging tubes fired at once, sending torpedoes towards the designated targets, as the countermeasures formed a full sheat of foam above the sub as it dived again, the other Spanish Subs were pulling similar maneuvres, all the subs could shoot at were the far noisier Surface Vessels, rather than the suddenly absent Australasian subs, some of which were known to have survived the initial exchange, the S-80s had about 90 seconds before the countermeasures and noise effects from the multitude of explosions reduced enough for them to be vulnerable to passive sets outside the immediate area, subs are far quieter than surface ships. But the active sonars were more troublesome, they must have picked up some of the S-80s for a few seconds, cause a trio dropped there torpedoes, which began tracking the S-88 and S-87, countermeasures went off like crazy as the subs continued to try and get beneath the layer, S-87 made it, escaping the torpedoes which switched to tracking on the countermeasuires, but S-88 wasnt so lucky, it got hit by two weapons and was on its way to the seabed within seconds, its crew already crushed by the enormous presures.

This is absurd. You have dozens and dozens of sonobuoys firing off their active pings together, reporting back to the helicopters above which are hunting you with MAD arrays. Despite the fact that I can't detect your submarines as they fire, dive and generally do all sorts of complex, noisy things you can detect three Trafalgar SSNs on silent running, kilometres away? You can do this while in the midst of your own bubbles, engine noises and firing noises? I may not know as much about ASW warfare as you do, sure, but that doesn't give you license to ignore what are essentially real, established tactics and countermeasures that have served real navies well in the past.

BG: Goalkeeper or Phalanx, at this range it really comes down to reaction time rather than bullet size. The two are essentially the same in that department, and I'll point out that I actually claimed near-100% kills per target in the above post, so again, it doesn't matter. Also, the RL Royal Navy didn't replace their Phalanx systems, I saw no real reason to change that. As it is, Aussie ships tend to be better built and more poorly crewed, RN ships less effective and better crewed. Random insight, but there you go.

OOC:
This is absurd. You have dozens and dozens of sonobuoys firing off their active pings together, reporting back to the helicopters above which are hunting you with MAD arrays. Despite the fact that I can't detect your submarines as they fire, dive and generally do all sorts of complex, noisy things you can detect three Trafalgar SSNs on silent running, kilometres away? You can do this while in the midst of your own bubbles, engine noises and firing noises? I may not know as much about ASW warfare as you do, sure, but that doesn't give you license to ignore what are essentially real, established tactics and countermeasures that have served real navies well in the past.
Uh, i said intermittent, all they can hear are occasional steam noises, hence the big weakness of nuclear powered submarines when facing diesel electric advisaries, i just know they are out there somewhere, not where they are or in what direction, but if you want to contest that, i remove that part of the passage. And we have numeronus subs from both sides in a close packed area, are your crews going to fire torpedeos into that mess when all they have are MAD readings telling theres a sub there, not whose side it is on. There is too much noise to get proper acoustic readings on whose subs they are, so you are just shooting and hoping that its an enemy vessel, which is considered to be an unexceptable risk from every navy in the world that trains for this scenario, which is why most western navies try to have there subs hunt alone, rather than in packs or in combination with surface forces.
Oh and BTW, i sent 4 Harpoons after each Type 22, not two

Did you not read the passage in which the Australasian submarines left the immediate area in an attempt to evade the torpedoes and make the surface ships' job easier? It was kind of folded in with the rest of the first post, so it's conceivable that you missed it.

Here's the situation breakdown from my side, just so we're clear:

The FCS Flamberge left the immediate area, and is searching for targets. It will probably be the most easily detectable of the Anglo-Australasian submarines, closer than the Trafalgars but still out of the immediate engagement zone.

The FCS Scimitar, meanwhile, is below and somewhat to the east of the major combat, also searching for targets. It is drifting, being as quiet as it can.

The surface ships, meanwhile, are doing their level best to evade torpedoes. HMS Illustrious is protected by its helicopter screen, dropping noisemakers and generally trying not to go the way of its younger sister. The Type 22s are helping that, similarly firing off countermeasures and, as stated, firing torpedoes as contacts are made. Helicopters are buzzing all around, nearly two LPH's worth plus four off of the frigates.

From the main fleet, several SAR helicopters are arriving to search for survivors, but they're not armed in any significant fashion and won't play a role in combat.

OOC: Modified my post again, we have about 90 seconds of IC time left before your surface ships passive sets come into play again, i put something about S-88 getting killed by a pair of helos, but id like you to modify your thing about the T22s, since i sent four harpoons after each one, not two. And Illustrious and the surviving surface vessels of the ASW screen are still vulnerable to torpedoes, noisemakers arent terribly useful when used by something as noisy as a surface warship, but itl too a significant amount of good to there survival chances.

Alrighty, IC post coming someday in the future. I'm-a be gone from the 17th to the 27th for a family vacation, and until then I'm trying to keep my head above the heap of schoolwork. End of the term, you know.

I'll have a Type 22 take a hit, possibly fatal and certainly enough to put it out of action-- which is probably fatal when surrounded by submarines. Yay for OOC compromise! Anyway, as I was saying. I won't be able to respond to this for some time, so I suggest that you bookmark this page and return on the 29th or so. Sorry for the huge delay, I have no time!

*runs off to do his Humanities portfolio*

ASW Picquet

Despite its brave attempts to see off the quartet of incoming harpoons, the HMS Campbeltown found itself in dire straits indeed. Firing its Seawolfs in defence of the carrier, while proper doctrine, had also cost the smaller vessel its most effective anti-missile system. The Goalkeeper guns had done away with two of the offending targets, while diligent escort on the part of HMS Cornwall's commander accounted for a third. The fourth missile, however, impacted the main hull just forward of the bridge, killing the command crew. The gaping whole-- for that was all that had been left by the missile's impact-- was not quite enough to sink the frigate immediately. It shipped water rather alarmingly in the disturbed seas, though, and Lieutenant Perry, the highest ranked officer aboard, gave the order to abandon ship.

He was an engineer officer, not actually qualified to command the crew, but nobody was really going to argue the point. The Campbeltown's hull drew water swiftly, settling into the grey sea as the Royal Navy's men clambered into their boats and motored away. SAR helicopters retrieved them swiftly enough, and of the two hundred and fifty men aboard, two hundred and thirty six escaped the sinking hull. One of them carried the Royal Navy's white ensign, which he carried stuffed in his shirt as he climbed aboard the chopper.

To the sonarmen of the HMS Illustrious, the sound of a quartet of torpedoes was immediately recognizable above the rest. It was a sharp, whining hiss that set off all sorts of alarms, both automated and human, aboard the big carrier.

"Bridge, sonar. Hydrophone effect! Incoming torpedoes, three thousand metres!" The message was relayed to the local ASW helicopters, some six, which fired off clusters of countermeasures as the torpedoes came inbound. The carrier itself launched somewhat larger noisemakers into the surrounding ocean, and began a long, gentle turn towards the main fleet. Its engine noise was masked by a passive noise reduction system, and while hardly enough to prevent detection, the dozens of noisemakers happily drowned it out by sheer quantity. The quartet of incoming torpedoes chased the small canisters, exploding spectacularly around the carrier. One explosion, the nearest, jarred the ship severely and left a noticeable dent in its steel skin, the only mark of the attack thus far. An able seaman's cot was rather damp, but the ship was not much the worse for wear. It was, however, both slower and somewhat louder, although hopefully not enough to outweigh the collective weight of countermeasures that surrounded it.

Roughly two minutes had passed since the launching of the torpedoes, and the passive sonar aboard the HMS Cumberland began to register contacts. They were perhaps not the clearest, given that the frigate and its two remaining companions were making their way slowly towards the retreating Lusty, their own wake guarded by the two dozen helicopters swarming the area. The contact, confirmed to be an S-80 type submarine, was fed to the choppers as well as the triple mounted torpedo tubes on the frigate's deck. Six torpedoes, three from the deck mounts and three from a group of nearby choppers, hit the ocean running.

Grand Fleet

The ASW picquet seemed to be comporting itself much more capably, Longworth noticed. The surface ships seemed to be fending off their attackers, although it was anyone's guess as to how long they would continue to do so. The picquet was on its own for the moment, however, as the Spanish fleet continued operations to the north. Sat Intel suggested that the French were in port, and would continue to linger there for some time. They seemed to be taking on stores and patching their hulls, and leaked information indicated that their destination was southern Africa, not the Channel. If so, Longworth was happy enough to let the Soviet fleet do what the Australasians had prevented him from doing, and happy enough to see both fleets annihilate themselves.

"Signal the fleet; all ships prepare to bear North Northwest. Deploy frigates on secondary ASW picquet and inform Captain Fraser that he is operational commander, Task Force Green. Detail three Trafalgar class submarines to him." It was not Longworth's habit to make such sudden changes to his fleet's general makeup, but he saw an opportunity. The picquet, newly minted Task Force Green, would remain on station to deal with the submarine threat, while the rest of the fleet tailed the Spaniards northwards. The maneuver would take place in roughly twenty minutes, even if the Spanish submarines had not been destroyed by then. Victory at sea, after all, does not come to those who wait.

Channel Islands

The Channel Islands were not particularly well fortified, nor were they equipped to defeat much of an attack. A few Standard missile launchers and their ammunition were the main weapons systems present, and were swiftly dismantled and placed on the last flight out of town. Women and children were long gone, shortly followed by the men and lastly by the soldiers. The Channel Islands were largely empty of people, and nothing of military value remained. If anyone were particularly interested in them, be they Spaniards, French or even enterprising pirates, they would find little to oppose them.

The truth was, nobody really wanted the Channel Islands. They were prone to attack, generally useless and not much besides. Taken to prevent French privateers from using them as bases, they were retained largely because the inhabitants identified themselves as British. In an age of quiet seas and little piracy outside of Southeast Asia, they were holdovers. The Franco-Spaniards were welcome to them. Longworth's manouevers, therefore, were intended to trap the Spanish within easy striking distance of the RAF, although the somewhat depleted ODSE would likely appear as well. In the few weeks that had passed since the battle, replacements would either still be in training or barely competent, neither a problem to the unbloodied and veteran RAF. It was a new Battle of Britain, and the enemy appeared to be little different than they had been in 1940, psychotic dictatorship and all.

An Imperial Airways Sunderland Flying Boat touched down in the abandoned harbour at St. Helier, the crew having experienced engine trouble on a cargo flight from Dover to Paris.

Finding no-one around the crew got on the radio, trying to find out how they should proceed...

OOC: Roycelandian Channel Islands, anyone? :)