NationStates Jolt Archive

Colony House, New Hoarsby

Polished boots clattered down marble floors. Servants skittered hastily out of the way. Sentires stood to attention, bayonets fixed, resplendant in scarlet uniforms and bleached-white pith helmets. The boots belonged to the Theatre Commander General Sir Douglas Longstaff and his command staff. The emaculate marble floor belonged to Colony House, the nerve centre of the recently expanded Praetonian military presence in the small, unremarked colony just off the Spizanian border.

"Gentlemen," Sir Douglas began, unrolling a map covered in lines and arrows, little symbols representing battalions of light infantry, mechanised infantry, heavy armour and artillery formations, "Our Questerian allies are fighting on the plains of Juumanistra for the memory of their beloved Monarch. Elsewhere, our other Haven Pact allies fight similar fights. Our armed forces have been left unengaged for too long. The time has come to strike. Orders have been distributed to divisional commanders, and detailed orders shall be waiting for each of you when you return to your command posts."

He snapped his stick against a co-ordinate on the map, "Our heavy armour shall advance through these vallies here. Ordinarily I would like to advance through this rough terrain with infantry and scour it clear of defenders, but it is sparsely populated, bad terrain and time is of the essense. I hope to have us reach here," he snapped his stick against another point on the map, indicating the first real city, and the start of civilisation away from the rought terrain, "before their military has a chance to respond. This will see us in a powerful position defensively, and best disposed to use our advantage of mobility on the offensive."

"Here," he snapped his stick against yet another point on the map, this time well inside the rough terrain, "and here. Our mechanised infantry shall advance down these roads. They will have minimal tank coverage due to the poor state of the roads but once we have them under our control I intend to have them repaved with thick concrete to facilitate the rapid advance of reinforcements and supplies. That makes a total of 3,200 Phalanx MBTs, 15,000 IFVs and more than 95,000 infantry, supported by a further 6,200 other vehicles."

"The advance shall be supported by a small force of 15,000 light infantry who will advance through the hills proper, confiscating weapons from the local civilians and scouting out, destroying or marking for bombing missions any Spizanian regular military presence in the rough ground. They shall catch up with the main attack when they can - it is not important.

"Once we have seized the city," he snapped the stick onto it once more, "we shall await reinforcements by sea and air, which are already on their way. Gentlemen, I do not need to remind you how important this offensive is. If successful, it shall draw pressure away from our allies, and net the Commonwealth substantial territorial gain. Are there any questions?"

The General, who had been standing, sat down. He sniffed, rumpling his bushy moustache. The other men in the room looked at each other, shook their heads and, dispensing with the usual formalities, were promptly dismissed by their General.

Praeto-Spizanian Border, Two Days Later

"This is a great day for each and every one of us, lads. You and I both," Major-General Sir Russel Tumbridge said, softly, from the saddle of his horse, "Yesterday you were but guards for a border know one cared about and no one knew about. What was I but a commander of irrelevent border-guards?" he chuckled to himself, and his voice began harsher and louder, "but today, my friends, we are all each of us soldiers!" THe last word he shouted, shaking the carefully aligned plumage extending from his brass helmet. "We shall all remember this day, and well we might, for this day is but the beginning of our march to victory!" He had shouted the last sentence and, caught in the moment, drew his sabre and thrust it forwards in one fast, violent motion, his horse breaking into gallop across the border and into Spizania. The first tank followed.

"Good to go?" Inquired the commander of the lead Phalanx, a tank that had been named Sovereign by its crew. The crew did not even pass comment on their eccentric General's absurd behaviour - they were used to it by now.

"Yep," replied the driver.

"Go on then, Rob. Lead the way," the Commander replied, as the tank revved up and shuddered forwards. Two weeks ago the tank had been in a magnificent parade through the centre of Colony Town, but the bright colours and adornments had been hastily painted over and removed, its functional but ungly tank roof affixed and slat armour bodged onto every surface such that it looked like a giant metal bird cage rather than a tank rolling into Spizania. It wasn't pretty, but it was a true battle tank.

"That's it - there's our place in the history books," remarked the jolly Commander as the tank crossed over the border, splintering a wooden gate under its treads in the process.

"If we even live to see it," commented the gunner, glumly.

Elsewhere, away from the main tank column, IFVs with their minimal tank escort had begun their advance down the poor roads that would be quickly ripped to pieces by hundreds of tread-borne 80-tonne tanks. Light infantry - the poor old dismounted dragoons - had begun their long march into some of the roughest territory any soldier could be expected to face, completely without armoured support.

Anti-air vehicles were interspersed throughout both columns of vehicles, and the odd IFV completed the tank column. Minesweepers were near the front of each column, but they hadn't the time to search for mines rigorously over terrain they assumed was not mined anyway. SP artillery was ready to fire at a moments notice. UAVs soared overhead, scouting out the terrain ahead, and occassionally a Hussar strike fighter would soar over up above, but the advance had begun, and all so far was quiet.

[OOC: This RP is part of A Passion Play and was arranged with Spizania.]

Armour Spearhead Assault Area
Sergeant Mark Simmons, 2nd Platoon, C Company, 2120 Battalion, 356th Light Infantry Brigade he top of the customs building, his Hali-42 Assault Rifle leaning against the low wall beside him, his hands full of a large mug of steaming hot tea as he looked out over the border into the little known Praetonian Colony, he was looking forward to returning to his bunk for a few hours sleep followed by a day either in the recreation room downstairs or a day in the down of Dale about five miles further up the valley inwhich the border post stood.
Then he noticed something that made him think someone had slipped some Dope into his tea for a joke, opposite the border post in the Praetonian colony a massive column of tanks and other armoured vehicles had appeared and was driving straight at the wooden gate about a hundred yards away down the road, led by what appeared to be a general riding on horseback wearing extravagent clothing that would not appear out of place on the battlefields of the Napoleonic Wars.
Mark reached down, picked up the PA headset for the border posts external speakers and yelled at them to stop, when they did not Mark hit the alarm button and grabbed his rifle, he looked back up just ini time to see the lead Phalanx II drive straight over the gate and into Spizanian Territory.
He yelled into his headset "Theres thousands of Praetonians crossing the border in armoured vehicles, sound the alarm, this is no drill".
He raised his rifle, set the underslung grenade launcher on the edge of the battlements, sighted on the extravegantly dressed officer charging at a gallop towards the passport office in a small annex on the side of the building. He tracked him and loosed a thirty milimetre grenade into his path, followed by a burst of gunfire, before turning and dropping down the stairs and joining the line of men rushing out of the back of the building, trying to keep its bulk between them and the attackers, all of them carrying extra ammunition boxes, some even had .50 calibre belts draped over there shoulders.
Then the whining roar of a jet engine sounded in the distance as a Hussar strike aircraft approached, probably already arming weapons. The Anti Air Specialist of the platoon spun around towards the source of the sounds, knelt and fired of his Starstreak Surface to Air missile before resuming running. They headed towards a path that curved out of sight away from the roads which would allow them to retreat without being butchered by the Praetonian Armour.

Left Flank Armoured Infantry Assault Spearhead, Village of Brackensdale
The Praetonian armour had crossed the border about a mile outside a small village that happened to contain the barracks for a company of the 365th light infantry, this time from 2119 Battalion, they were taken completely by suprise due to suddeness and shear audacity of the assault.
As the armoured vehicles reached the outskirts of the village, just before they would probably deploy a tide of infantry to flush any defenders out of the village, the company, having been warned a few minutes before of the impending assualt, which had been sufficiently slowed by the fords and winding road alongwhich they were forced to advance, struck, 110mm Recoiless Rifles and Heavy Machine Gun fire spraying from the buildings and hedgerows along the edge of the village, aimed at the lead few vehicles. The men concealed in the hedgerow quickly finished assembling a pair of 35mm Pack Autocannons and opened up on the flanks of the enemy column.

The conflict on the right flank was proceeding rather worse for the dazed confederate defenders, mildly harrying the invaders the platoon guarding the small village near the border was quickly overrun and driven into posistions around the town square where the highest surviving rank struck the Confederate Flag hanging above the town hall and replaced it with a white flag manufactured from a tablecloth requisitioned from a squareside restaurant.

Meanwhile the first reports were just beginning to filter back to the defense headquarters of the region in the city of Haltwhistle, about a hundred and ninety kilometres south east from Brackensdale.

OOC: Hope i didnt take too many liberties with the Praetonian forces

[OOC: No, that's fine, but I'd rather not kill old Sir Russel just yet - I have some other stuff planned for him later. You can get a few aides though.]

21st Royal Colonial Armoured Division

"Bloody hell, Reynolds!" fumed Sir Russel. He had been thrown from his horse, and the force of hitting the ground had quite effectively winded him. "You told me it was empty, by God!" The charred pile of man and horse did not reply.

Four of his five aides had been killed in the grenade explosion which, due to the firer's unfamiliarity with the speed of horses, had fallen short of Sir Russel. His remaining aide was lying, retching, on the ground, having caught a piece of shrapnel in the side and a stray bullet in the chest. Sir Russel's horse had been shot from under him by the same damned Spizanian who had wiped out his staff. He looked at the poor creature, pawing the ground in pain, drew his pistol and put a bullet through its brain. The poor thing.

"S... sir? Is that you?" The aide asked, faintly.

"Don't worry, lad. Everything will be alright," the General cooed. He couldn't see any Spizanians - they must have fled - they certainly hadn't the firepower to oppose his armoured column. The aide let out one more desperate cry, and then slumped, lifeless, onto the ground.

Sir Russel couldn't see the plane any more, but nor could he see blazing wreckage and so he assumed it had simply activated its afterburners and fled the area. It would be back, he reassured himself, and many others too.

"What the bloody hell are you waiting for! Fire, damn you!" Shouted Sir Russel into his radio, and the next second a 120mm HE-FRAG round smashed into the wall, splintering building materials in its path, and exploded within. This was followed almost immediately afterwards by two more shells, another HE-FRAG and one HESH round, and a hundred rounds of 30mm autocannon fire from various vehicles.

"Straight for 'em!" Shouted Sovereign's tank commander, assessing the strength of the recently shelled building to be minimal at best. Rob, the driver, spun the vehicle around, smashing through the building blazing machinegun and autocannon fire.

8th Imperial Mechanised Infantry Division

A 110mm recoiless rifle round slamming into the side of an IFV, smashing through the armour and roasting 2 infantrymen within. Hatches were unwound hastily and infantrymen and tankcrew alike rushed out of and away from the vehicle that was now billowing a worrying amount of smoke. Another 110mm round slammed into the side of another vehicle but when the smoke cleared only mangled slat armour. Heavy machinegun bullets pinged off the armour of the Praetonian vehicles.

Radio chatter rocketted from a few jokes and banter to a cacophony of shouts, "Return fire!" among the most common. The turrets of the Dragoon (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=404797) IFVs traversed to show their 120mm short-barrelled mortars, belching fire upon the positions that had exposed themselves by firing. All the while, the IFVs and tanks kept moving, stopping only to shunt an abandonned vehicle out of the way of the advancing column. The forces dispatched to mop up resistance on the left were to join the back of the column

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The twelve-plane squadron of Hussars shot across the Spizanian sky, instructed to probe deep into enemy territory until they cam within range of SAM batteries at the city, if any existed. Passing over the combat zones, the pilots resisted the temptation to swoop down to help. Far more planes were being held in reserve in that was necessary.

Meanwhile, the two Brigades of light infantry were advancing covertly into the roughlands unopposed, scouting elements sent ahead of the main body of men and generally proceeding with far more caution than the two spearheads were able to.

Brackensdale
The mortars slammed into buildings and exploded, sending chips of concrete and dust into the sky and throwing them across the field infront of the village. The Captain incharge of the company, a tall swarthy man by the name of Ericcson, hit his comm button and began to yell for artillery support.
"We need artillery, were getting hammered, if you dont get something down on them right now, were done for"
"Captain, we need two star autherisation to open fire, and thats not counting the fact that the target area is right next to a heavy concentration of civilians"
"Bombadier, if we dont get some guns down on them RIGHT NOW, the enemy will break through and advance forty miles in a couple of hours, bring it down on us RIGHT NOW or we are all dead"
"Roger that, Captain, request ammunition specification"
"DPICM with secondary fire as SADARM, fire when ready and keep hitting"
"Confirmed DPICM with SADARM secondary, get small, its going to be coming right down on you, firing in 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Good Luck"
"Roger that, Good Luck, O.....", the last word trailed off as a 120mm High Explosive round slammed into the hedgerow behind which Captain Erricson was prone, it exploded and killed him instantly.

Artillery Battery 1254, 9th Regiment the Confederate Artillery [75km behind the lines]
The Captains last words rang out of the speakers and dissolved in static as he died, the Bombardier incharge of the gun battery (the only battery in range of the enemy columns) returned the field telephone to his ear and yelled "FIRE AT WILL!" in a screaming bombastic voice.
Almost immediately the 4 Cordubo SPHs opened up, there 155mm Rapid Firing Guns roaring in unison as they sent ordanance racing towards the enemy mechanised infantry Column, 3 Guns fired DPICM cluster munitions while the fourth fired SADARMs, each gun fired ten rounds per minute, it was a small artillery barrage by most standards, but it might just make the Praetonians pay for the casualties they had inflicted.
Each DPICM (Dual Purpose Individual Combat Munition) shell split into 64 Dual Purpose Grenades which scattered the target area, they would not penetrate the side or even the rear armour of almost all modern (read NS) armoured vehicles but the top armour should start to quail under the bombardment as a total of 1920 such submunitions were falling on the armoured column every minute.
The SADARM (Search And Destroy ARmour Munition) shells split into two self guiding munitions that would search out and destroy armoured vehicles in the targetted area, since only one gun was firing this meant that only 20 such submunitions were falling every minute, but with a 90% kill rate and armour penetration values more suited to taking out heavy armour, every hit on an IFV was an almost certain kill.

CTAAF Brackenhead, 70 miles from Brackendale
"My friends, i will not lie to you, the enemy is superior in numbers and most likely equipment, but we do have one advantage, they are not sure of our strength or our definate location, your mission is to engage the enemies local air assets, drive them off sufficiently long enough to cause some chaos with the main armoured column advancing down the Meering valley, and then head for CAF Bridgestone a hundred miles down valley. Good Luck People, go nail them bastards"

The Pilots filed out, they were members of what served the CAF as a reserve, the Confederate Territorial Army Air Force. The uniform they wore was a variation of that of the Air Cavalry corps and they were in effect under army command and they used Army Ranks, however they all regarded themselves as members of the Confederate Air Force and were known for there contempt towards the other ground pounder members of the army. Now half of the 48 aircrew probably wished they were just another ground pounder, not the only available air asset in range for a suprise attack on the Praetonian Invaders.

The base was small, and built into a seventy degree hilside approximately half way between the valley floor and the peaks of the hills, it was built inside a massive series of natural limestone caverns with access through a widened and improved cave entrance which allowed the maintainance and operation of 24 Lu-25 Black Mariah VTOL aircraft, the base also possesed a battery of eight eight tube P.746 Launchers with automatic reloading and a standard set of Air Traffic Control and Air Defence RADARs. For this sortie the Lu-25s were armed with 6 Medium Range AMRAAMs, 2 500lb General Purpose Bombs and 4 Clusters of 3 Quicksilver Anti Tank Guided Missiles.

At the signal of the Base Controller, all twenty four Lu-25s shot out of the cave entrance in under ten seconds, working the throttles to convert to horizontal flight without stalling or crashing into the opposite wall of the valley, within seconds the well trained pilots had a lock on the 12 Hussars flying high above them, but they wouldnt be firing on them, through a telemetry link with the base Air Defence System, the fighters were targetted for the SAM systems without the base triggering its own RADAR, allowing its exact location to remain a secret. All 64 launch tubes emptied in one collosal barrage as the missiles targetted the Hussars with there own radar and locked onto the enemy. The fighters dropped behind the cloud of propellant trials that had shot past them and waited.