NationStates Jolt Archive

((OOC: Split from Iron West, Page 11 (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=484776&page=11). If it's okay, I'd like to re-do the attack I made on Rabat, Australasian spy-satellites are such that I would know if you had fighters available. So, post number 153 of Iron West will look a little different. I'll add IC based on Spizania's approval of the idea.))

taggage

OOC: Im sorry but i dont see why we should redo the bomber strike, Morocco has these aircraft in Real Life and you should have done your research on my air defence capabilities before launching this ill advised raid. You can always abort the raid (you havent entered my airspace yet and i havent actually fired) and come back later in more force

Taggage!

tag

Tag and OOC:

It really dosent make sense that you get to do re-dos. Noone else gets to, and as Spiz said, you should've done your research, and if that reasearch wasent there, then asked. If this gets allowed, then people are going to start wanting more tries.

((OOC:*raises eyebrows* Fair enough, I kinda figured that'd be the answer. Ask anyway, that ye may be given a break and all that. I suppose we can use the Iron West OOC for more discussions such as this, I don't think we especially need a new one. But while we're on the topic, what are your AA (coastal and inland) and fighter support, what does your navy look like, and to what extent do you have troops stationed in and around your cities?))

IC:
89th Bomber Wing, Vulcan One, on approach to Rabat

"Shit, someone has a missile lock on us!" Guillermo Masada was the radarman aboard Vulcan One. The young man's voice was laced with panic, a Vulcan bomber had no defenses to its name. He turned to the area sweep radar, checking for contacts. "Four bogies inbound, behaviour consistent with Fighter-Intercepter aircraft!"

Major Lavisser, commander of the 89th, glared daggers at the radar board. Intel had suggested that the Moroccan fighter force had been relocated southwest, obviously someone in AOIA had dropped the ball spectacularly.

"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." The Moroccan-accented voice crackled over the speakers, filling the small cabin. Lavisser keyed his headset, thinking quickly. A national embarrassment, which this little stunt was rapidly turning into, would be bad PR. On the other hand, continuing the attack would be suicide. He needed a cover story.

"Moroccan fighters, be advised. The 89th squadron is making a ferry run to..." he checked the hastily provided map, calculating ranges and fuel concerns "... Mauritania for strikes against the French. Your government should have been informed of the flyover. Over." He cut the channel and flicked the encryption switch, broadcasting back to the Azores.

"Tower, this is the 89th. Relay the following message to Raleigh immediately. This is eyes only for the Prime Minister. Message as follows:
Our cover has been blown, we are continuing to Mauritania. Do not send ultimatum message to Rabat. Substitute request for a flyover by my wing, list final destination as Mauritania. Clear final destination in Mauritania. Message ends. Over and out." Lavisser swallowed. Maybe something could be salvaged from this. If Mauritania allowed the landings, they'd have a quick-strike platform from which to launch attacks. They'd have to move the rest of the 89th, plus escort fighters, but that could be done. Now, would the Moroccans buy it?

Raleigh, Australasia

The government operated a large room in which messages were faxed, emailed or telegrammed to the other nations of the world. It was full of people, clicking noises and the shuffling of paper. Nothing much ever happened, and what did could never be discussed. Everything that went through the room was some level of 'secret' until such time as both governments agreed to disclose it. So when a harried Air Corps captain came running into the room yelling something about Morocco, there was a great deal of excitement.

"Stop, everyone!" He was breathing hard, his jaunty little Air Corps cap was askew and his cheeks were red from running. "Who-haah- is transmitting a-wheeze- message to- haargh- Rabat?" A young woman with coke-bottle glasses raised her hand timidly.

"Me, sir." She looked at the captain doubtfully. "Can I get you some... water?" The captain waved her off.

"No. Don't send that-gasp message. I don't care what priority it is, don't. Send this one-haah instead." He produced a slip of paper and handed it to her.

EDIT: OOC2: Feel free to not believe Major Lavisser, he sounds like someone is...well... pointing missiles at him while he lies through his teeth.

OOC: I belive his navy and airforce havent changed much, (his aiforce is the same but for 16 new attack helis), so you can look those up. And all these bomber strikes better not hit the factory that a Confederate company opened up in Rabat

OOC:
Actually Vulcans histroically did have very good defences electronics wise but no air to air weaponry.
Personally for this kind of thing i would have sent a couple of Vulcans (or some sort of electonic signals intelligence/surveilance aircraft) to fly up and down just out side of his airspace, just like the US and Russia/USSR did/still do with thier bears and P-3s.

It should go almost without saying that reference to the Dark Continent by any party in the myriad current global conflicts finds its way quickly on to hardcopy and in to storage facilities within Tanzania, Zambia, and Zimbabwe, filed for potential propaganda use in the future. Extra-African powers never change, says Igomo, often when questioned about the regressive element to his policy of Ujamaa and African Socialism.

While Republican troops head for West Africa with the Indian fleet, Papa Africa leaves the Union to visit Yaounde, Bangui, and Ndjamena, hoping to encourage defence mobilisation and confirm unity of spirit with the anti-League powers.


(/Tag)

Lusaka: I don't suppose the ANP are taking too kindly to the airborne assault idea and the fact that it would run roughshod over soem of the "neutral" nations and allow a rahter large Strathdonian contingent into UAR/AC territory.

The Austrian government warns Morroco that even though it likes the idea of an independent oil producing nation, its attacks near Mauritania and killing of potential workers/consumers is stretching the patience of Federacy's diplomats.

Several high profile diplomats and generals extend the idea that defending Mauritanian airspace will help the government join Austria's new neutrality agreement, allow corporate investment, protect those corporations, and show that when Austria defends her allies. Especially when competing against a significantly lesser country.

Operations are made to send 30 new Eurofighters over to Mauritania with new missle defense systems to defend any un-warrented Morrocoian attacks. Any attacks made on Austrian people, known and un-known, will result in army deployments.

"Vulcan Bombers, by the order of central Moroccan Miltiary Command, your aircraft are to be impounded and you are to be taken prisoner pending immediate repatriation, come to heading zero nine five and descend to angel five, do not attempt to open your bomb bays. You are to proceed to airstrip at map reference nine-five-zero three-two-eight, over"
The flight leuitenant looked at his RADAR screen and saw the double flight (8) of Mirages coming up to join the bombers to make sure they complied with the orders, however, if they did not, they would go down in flames as enemies of the state. He checked his cannons were locked and ready to fire and settled down to wait for the response.

OOC: It be a desert airstrip

89th Bomber Wing, Vulcan One, Circling 80 km off Rabat

Major Lavisser was sweating a bit more than the cool air inside the Vulcan would call for. Surrenduring would not be an option, his bomb bays were full of high-explosive, not extra fuel. His targetting computers contained information on Rabat. His flight plan was for a bombing raid on the city, not a landing maneuver in neutral airspace.

"Start wiping the computers. Destroy the flight plans and secure all bombs," he snapped over his shoulder. Then he turned to the radio.

"Moroccan aircraft, be advised. Impounding an Australasian warplane, armoured vehicle or warship can be construed as an act of war. While I am not in a position to speak for my government, I assure you that neither Raleigh nor the citizens of my nation are impressed with Moroccan aggression, and that any hostile action, including impounding of my squadron, will be so construed. Alternatively, if we are allowed to return to the Azores, there will be no need for such measures. 89-niner, over." He flipped the encryption switches and tuned to the general military channel.

"Tower, this is 89-niner. We need a bail-out, request that the 114th, 20th and 4th squadrons be prepped and ready to go if needed. Over." Tower crackled an acknowledgment back, and Major Lavisser sighed. The proverbial shit was about to hit the fan, he could feel it in his bones.

Hanson Air Corps Base, Azores

Hanson was a new base, quonset huts were still being assembled and the hangars were temporary. Construction teams paid in the Australasian Colonial Pound were steadily erecting more permanent structures, but for the time-being only the tower showed any sign of not blowing away in the next gale. Under camo-netting rested the AS-12s of the 114th Suicide Kings, the AS-17s from the 20th Skymasters, and the older AF-18E Super Hornet attack fighters purchased from Quinntonia in the '90s. Their pilots spent most of their time off-base, partying in nearby cities and enjoying the feminine fruits of the Azore islands.

But today, each one of them was on base, being briefed on the situation over Morocco. Brigadier Cox, commander of the base, outlined their possible mission. The 4th was to approach and engage the enemy fighters, while the 114th would fly in at ceiling with drop pods, then attack from above. The 20th was to guard the refuelling aircraft- converted RA-600s- which would wait at range to refuel the bombers as they retreated. If any more squadrons sortied from the mainland, the 114th and the 20th squadrons would rotate defense duty while the 4th, which was unable to refuel mid-air, would return to the Azores once phase one was accomplished.

If the Moroccans decided to let the bombers return unharmed, there would be no need. But if there was, the Australasian pilots would be the first to strike.

(OOC: I'm leaving tonight, won't be back for 11 days. I might be able to pop in once or twice, but I wouldn't bet on it.)

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.

Moroccan Wall

Amidst the rocky outcrops and shell-torn landscape east of the Berm, forward elements of the Polisario defenders prepare to recieve incoming Moroccan troops. Whereas the attackers were doubtless uncertain, forced to deal with recently acquired equipment, training and organisation that had shifted in past months from defence of the wall to Elian downsizing and divisional focus to the latest offensive measures, Polisario forces had spent decades perfecting the execution of ghazzi tactics and defence of the hammada... morale was steady and confidence high, with a prevalent attitude that there could be no retreat lest the Saharawi people be surrounded and destroyed. While Moroccan artillery expends its ammunition against an array of landmines kilometres deep, Saharawi mortars engage in counterbattery fire before shifting position and opening up again. Small arms fire also stands ready, rifles and machine guns sweeping those Moroccan units which leave the shelter of the berm to brave the open lands beyond their earthworks, and opening up against aircraft which seek to penetrate SADR airspace to reach refugee columns beyond. In the area Zoug, where SADR forces still have access to stockpiles of landmines, heavier artillery pieces await the passage of Moroccan bombardments before unleashing artillery shells along the berm to fill gaps cleared by the enemy.

Mauritanian Border

Here too, Polisario small arms rattle as Moroccan F-5s push towards refugee columns, seeking to bring town the low-flying enemy craft. The columns themselves push on as fast as they are able, vehicles moving over the Mauritanian border before disgorging their contents and turning back to take up another load.

Where the Moroccan aircraft open up upon the columns, death is immediate... the refugees fall to bomblets and strafing cannon, those who can scattering in all directions while those who cannot fall to the bombs and shells unleashed by Rabat's soldiers. The screams of the dying rise up into the sky, the columns rarely able to mount a proper escape or defence, and forcecd to leave the dying behind as they speed on towards safety.

Moroccan-Occupied Western Sahara

In El-Aaiún, in ad-Dakhla, in Smara, the Saharawi watched. It had been decades since open war had swept the Western Sahara, since Morocco had raised its wall and refused to take the field... decades of peace, if not prosperity. Decades of occupation, of seeing Saharan phosphates enrich Moroccan corporations, of seeing Moroccan military fortifications sever ancient Saharawi trade routes, of seeing Moroccan settlers displacing Saharawi natives upon the most productive lands. There was much bitterness amongst the Saharawi, but they were a patient people, and determined... half had lived through decades of occupation and oppression under a hostile invader, half had lived those decades in a harsh exile surrounded by featurless desert. They knew that their day would come, so long as a single Saharawi still stood tall against the desert wind. And stand they would.

As news filtered out across the Western Sahara, of Moroccan strikes across the berm, crowds of Saharawi began to gather in town squares and around watering holes, growing larger by the hour. A few held placards bearing Polisario slogans, a few wore the colours of the SADR flag, and all stood with fists clenched in anger. "Stop the genocide, cease the agression!" came the shouts, "End the occupation of the Western Sahara!"

London was normally silent over Morocco out of respect for the interests of United Elias, which the Whigs especially could not afford to alienate any further. The SADR remained unrecognised by the British almost entirely because of the relationship between UE and the Moroccans.

Rabat's turn away from Baghdad caused a raising of eyebrows, and some concern after rumour of association with the Holy League, especially once Gibraltar had been burned by the Franco-Spanish alliance.

On the one hand, arming a Morocco that was close to the Holy League would not stand, and, frankly, in this time of total war, Mainwaring would be willing to flatten Tel Aviv and annex Cyprus rather than see the Israelis help to create the total ruin of the Mediterranean theatre -HMS Courageous- was noted to test her guns in waters south of the island, putting more than ten tonnes of steel and explosive into the sea in a single volley, which of course was identified ahead of time as in preparation for potential action against League forces to the west.

But, on the other, the approach to West Africa of Soviet forces presented its own worry. Communism could quite easily dislodge not only the Holy League in West Africa, but also the Roycelandians, and then take on Morocco, forcing the world to recognise the SADR and leaving the strait divided between socialists and feudalists. The Indian National Union's involvement may perhaps see a restoration of some access for the socially-minded British capitalists, but it would be a likely lasting condition that was only tollerable at best, and never ideal.

Britain was either going to have to finish the Franco-Spanish fleet in the Atlantic and then engage Morocco in order to restore the agreeable pro-Baghdad condition and save the Strait of Gibraltar, or was going to have to make Rabat realise the wisdom of aligning itself on the proper side and disengaging from Western Sahara before it became to late to prevent a socialist take-over. Perhaps Rabat didn't appreciate the level of probability associated with Soviet-lead victory in West Africa, or the fact that the Indian revolutionaries had, for example, more tanks than Africa and Western Europe combined... without considering that most of Africa was on their side, anyway.

The Moroccan ambassador was summoned to Downing Street.

-Isolated beach near Cabo Bojador, Western Sahara-

The moon hung silently in the night sky, watching upon the workings of man with an eye that was allegedly impartial, but awfully specific about whose dealings it chose to reveal and whose it cast no light upon...

It damn well better be the only one watching, noted a woman whose skin was as pale as the moon she was glaring at. She lowered her gaze to defend the blue sheen of her eyes from the ravages of the Saharan wind's barrages of sand, and quickly slid on a pair of dark sunglasses, figuring that a darkened view was better than no view at all. She gestured furiously at the clandestine vessel to hurry up and unload its cargo, and ordered a band of mask clad Sahawaris to gather it as soon as it did. Her legs, hardened by years spent living and struggling amongst the Sahawari people, sauntered over to inspect one of the crates, as her hands pulled out the rusty blade that had once spilled the blood of the Mafiya's foes. The blade cut through the crate's bindings, and the grizzled veteran who had never expected to be surprised again was...well, surprised.

"Harvester Rifles? Armandian gear?"

She looked once again at the men on the smuggling vessel. She had dismissed them as meaningless, just another bunch of nondescript faces in a long line of gun smugglers. But upon closer inspection, these Asian men appeared to be too fit, too disciplined, too coordinated to be mere thugs in the arms trade.

"Who are you?"
"We have come to serve the Revolution."
"This is the Polisario, the pet cause of every leftist, wannabe leftist, and their grandmother. Which Revolution?"

She picked up one of the rifles.

"Armand?"
"Indeed, we hail from the land of the black flag. But we can speak more later; now we must hurry as to avoid being captured."

The woman pointed the rifle directly at the Armandian's head.

"Sure, but you're coming with me. I need insurance to make sure this isn't some Moroccan scheme."

The man simply nodded calmly, and, once the weapons were loaded onto battered Polisario trucks, stepped inside the woman's car. They drove off under the cover of the night, as the moon sustained its watchful gaze...
______________________________________________________________

"We are merely the first of many; the Combine is attempting to shovel through as many arms and advisors as it can through every route it can find. A fleet is being readied in Dreshfield, but time is of the essence, so less open, but more immediately available routes are being pursued. Many of our men might very well be intercepted; it was only due to sheer luck and our vessel's small size that we were able to get past the Moroccan Navy. However, we hope that we can get some aid to the proud socialist brothers we have long ignored in our self imposed isolation, and perhaps stem the Moroccan tide long enough for an invasion fleet to arrive."

"Wait...an invasion fleet? I thought this was all strictly off the books."

"No...the smuggling is indeed something we shall never publicly admit to, but we have publicly issued a demand that Morocco halt its invasion, withdraw fully, pay indemnities to the Sahawari people, and, most importantly, recognize the Polisario's independance. If they don't comply, which we believe is quite likely, then they shall be at war with the Combine, and have Combine Marines storming their beaches to look forward to."

"Hmm...perhaps this whole thing might very well turn out to be in our favor..."

"We must speak to the Polisario leadership as soon as possible. Can you take us to them, Ms...?"

"Srebrenitska. Ilona Srebrenitska. And I'll see what I can do."

OOC:
She's Alive! woot!

Now if only i could actaully figure out what Morgan is upto these days. After his return home i had planned to get him involved in Zimbabwe but that pettered out, so i have been thinking of him perhaps finally settling old scores with McGhinty who was supposed to be stirring up trouble in Lusaka/former Al-Khals but whose stroy i never got finished but with the increasingly warm relations between Strathdonian and the ANP i think a joint operation to get McGhinty might be nice and with him out of the way Morgan can go adventuring again, although he is now more formerly attached to the SDF/SIS.

OOC: Not entirely sure where this should go but since it is an african side lien stroy might as well put it here, oh yeah and if the geography is a bit vague please forgive me.

IC:
Former Al-Khali Town some where near Lake Nyasa

He Wasn’t sure what it was that tweaked his attention and got him moving, just as the hail of 7.62mm slugs ripped and roared through the light wood and glass of the window and surrounding wall, was it a brief reflection of the helicopter’s spot light? The subtle change in the pitch of the roar whine that signalled a turn to present the door gun? In the end it didn’t matter, you didn’t survive over a decade of very black and dodgy operations by stopping to ask your subconscious, why it was yelling at you to move, you simply moved when it told you to.

Grabbing his laptop and rolling along the floor Patrick McGhinty swore as the hungry bullets continued to rip through the small house desperately seeking some soft flesh to rip asunder. Coming up into a crouch he had made it into the kitchen and sheltered behind the relative safety of the small refrigerator. Safe for the moment it was time for options.
Options? What options? Escape, survive, gather what you can and go. Gather what? Your backpack, over there beside the door. Right good, backpack has your pistol, food and few “tools”, will hold the laptop, must take that, not enough time to properly destroy contents. Ok now what, destroy everything else. But how? Gas bottle under the cooker and explosives under the floor, open the gas pipe, bullet strike should set it off and resultant explosions should hopefully burn or detonate the explosives.

As his mind raced through his objectives and plans Patrick listened as the machine gun fire cut off and the sound of the helicopter changed, good, the bugger came in too fast and over shot and is now trying desperately to come about. The door was a no go, they would be expecting that so after grabbing his back pack and stuffing the laptop inside Patrick hurled himself out of the already shattered window, landing in the scrubby bushes that made up the small rented bungalow’s garden. Keeping low and in the bushes he attempted to put some distance between him and the house. He could hear voices, obviously local security troops but wither they were local police, militia or Lusakan regulars he couldn’t tell. Eventually he emerged from the bushes and flattened himself against a building as the helicopter swooped back over head, it’s door mounted PKM hammering a few more bursts in to shell of the bungalow. Finally one of the tracer rounds found the gently increasing gas cloud in the kitchen and the bungalow erupted in a pillar of flame. The helicopter , a well used Mi-2 now he got a good look at it, reeled to the side as the pilot momentarily lost control but soon righted itself.
As the fire storm burst into life, McGhinty was moving, sprinting round the building and out into the street he ran straight into a solid body. As his main mind sought to make sense of the situation, his reflexes kicked in identifying the person as a threat and causing McGhinty to wrap his arm around the threat’s neck and use the force of the collision to snap it. Finally his brain caught up as he lowered the now lifeless body to the ground, judging by the uniform he had been a member of the local police and as luck would have it he was armed. Surprisingly well armed, McGhinty realised as he picked up the gun the Police Officer had dropped. In his hands McGhinty held a relatively well maintained Heckler and Koch MP5SD6 silenced submachine gun, this guy must have done some serious looting to pick up this baby. A quick search of the officer’s pockets turned up a couple of extra magazines which McGhinty quickly pocketed before turning back into the shadows and creeping along the street approached the corner of the local market. From the direction of his former home, McGhinty could hear a lot of shouting, obviously someone had discovered a serious lack of bodies in the destroyed house and was now organising a more involved search. The local curfew made it impossible to blend with any crowds and the town had a severe shortage of places to hide from a determined search. So he had to get out of town and hope that those searching for him hadn’t spread the word on him, but that was forlorn hope, if the security forces had a helicopter to spare just to add some firepower to dealing with him then obviously one of the national level forces knew who he was and as such all the other towns would have forces looking for him. That only left one option, get out of the country again not a easy option, the Mozambique border was crawling with troops as was the Strathdonian administered Nyassa frontier, also both borders were too far away as was the sea coast, that left only the shores of lake Nyassa, not far to the west of the small town, if he could get a boat then he could possibly get out into Strathdonian waters and play the “reporter fleeing Lusakan Crack downs” card to gain asylum. But how to get to the coast? There was a small marina about 4 miles down the road that had originally been part of a tourist development that included this town, normally 4miles wouldn’t be a problem on foot, but with a helicopter and an obviously determined ground force it wouldn’t be fast enough, motor vehicles were in short supply in the town most of the tourist vehicles in the town had been destroyed in the Islamic uprising or commandeered by the Lusakans, what little remained was kept very firmly locked up in garages, just then a nasty thought entered McGhinty’s mind. The other day he had noticed the local militia post just on the other side of the market square, nothing much more than an old ZSU-23 AA emplacement a few tents. sandbags, a drill square and some targets, it did act as home for a couple of decently maintained UAZs and with the manpower involved in searching for him it would only be sparsely populated, if he could just get through the inevitable perimeter of patrols he might have a chance…

Moroccan Wall Assault Points, Western Sahara
The lead armoured vehicles that were advancing behind the creeping mortar and artillery barrage ground to a halt and began to reverse back towards the defensive posistions from which they had advanced, since many of the units had only advanced less than a mile into SADR territory, the withdrawl would be completed in only a few minutes. The mortars and artillery shifted there fire into counterbattery actions against the now revealed SADR guns. The Polisario fighters would probably be shocked by this maneuvre and most likely commit significant resources in an attempt to ascertain the reason for the retreat. Had something happened in Rabat to prompt the sudden reversal of the plan? Or was this simply a preperation for a massive air assualt? Nevertheless the tanks were withdrawing behind the embrasures and fortifications they had occupied until about an hour earlier. They left behind a handful of burning vehicles, the bodies of the crew and passengers had been removed for fear that the enemy would violate the dead in retribution for the cruelty of the air assault.

Refugee Column Engagement Zone
The flights of F-5 Freedom Fighters suddenly broke off there attack and veered off towards the north east, following the same set of orders which had been recently issued to the armoured columns that had been assigned to the operation. The reason for the retreat was unclear to the Saharwi on the ground and indeed to the crews of the aircraft themselves

Moroccan National News Service
Earlier today several high level members of the Air Forces Central Command were arrested on charges of commiting war crimes by elements of the Royal Guard Mechanised Brigade in central Rabat, the crimes are in the words of a palace spokesmen, "Related to the autherisation of war crimes connected with the operations to overrun the remainder of polisario controlled Western Sahara, specifically the brutal assault on refugee columns attempting to escape the slaughter. Until these investigations are completed the attack forces have been withdrawn behind the previous defensive posistions behind the berm and artillery bombardment has been restricted to counterbattery fire, following SADR artillery bombardments that killed eighteen Moroccan servicemen and knocked out several Self Propelled Artillery Peices. More information as we get it

[Tagnations! Full IC thread for African Commonwealth tomorrow or the day after at the latest.]

tag

tag

[OOC: Oh come on, I re-introduce Ilona and now you back off? No fun. Hmmph. It'd be more interesting to have the McGhinty chase happen in the backdrop of a war...]

OOC:
Well the McGhinty thing was supposed to happen during the Zimbabwe tensions/conflict, so maybe he might actually make it out of Lusaka, some how avoid the Strathdonian security services and end up helping the ECOWAS resistance and of course Morgan would likely be there helping them aswell making for an interesting situation with both on the same side but hating each other.

OOC: Is this a thread started for this specific battle/RP, or is it open to all matters happening on the African continent?

OOC: Is this a thread started for this specific battle/RP, or is it open to all matters happening on the African continent?

Technically it's for any military movements, deployments, battles, and dispositions for the African continent.

If you want to post your Factbook link here that's cool to, if you are you might as well do it on AMW proper to.

Francoise Aburi looked up from his note taking, trying to understand exactly what it was her President was saying.

"So, you don't want to close the border, but you want to tighten security on it?"

President Paul Biya put down the newspaper, a slightly annoyed look on his face. She was a lovely girl, but she was new. She'd learn in due time; for now, he had to be patient. He gave out a little sigh, and lifted his head.

"Francoise, Nigeria is...well, was, responsible for nearly 10% of our export. Who knows where it's at these days with all this commotion coming from the West, but you know how Africa works. One day, militants are fighting in one country, the next, they've set up base in another. We can't afford that, and we're in a particularly vulnerable situation now that we're trying to intergrate Equatorial Guinea in the country without incident. However, we can't give up the trade that happens across our border, so we have to...how do I put this...we have to put up a front."

Francoise stared back at President Biya, trying to follow what he said. It sort of made sense to her, but she spoke what she understood to confirm.

"So basically, we secure our border, tighten up security, and only let specific people in?"

"Exactly. And I want this done discreetly, I dont want to upset no one. With all this war, I dont think the primary focus is on the border activity going on between Nigeria and Cameroon. I dont want to lose the money we make from export, but I dont want any, I repeat, ANY problems coming from that place."

"Alright, understood. But sooner or later, the rumblings will be heard back in Abuja."

"I know, I'll handle it when it gets there. But for now, check every car coming in, background checks when possible, the works...if there is anything remotely suspicious, you send it right back where it came from. No questions asked, no reason need be given."

OOC: Will affect Cameroon trade obviously, but the border has to be protected!

Devoted to improving capitalist countries and making new markets Austria feel inclined to invest in Cameroon, being a beacon of Capitalism in a relativly hectic, colonial, and communist Africa. To execute the investment there will be large amounts of direct aid and indirect corporate investment.

This will all be done by the ever benevolent Austria with the hopes that Cameroon will continue to be capitalist, if not democratic, and devoted to the spread of it through Africa. Also, if by chance Austria feels that to many markets are being closed I hope to have some kind of friendly country to stage "re-openings" of those markets.

Of course we will respect your borders and whatnot. What is important however is that you remain a staunch Capitalist and maybe a little pro-Austrian.

The amount of money to be a "direct investment" will probably include 10,000 Silvarian Marks a month. Each Mark can be reimbursed for about 1/10 of an ounce of silver, a fixed currency, and with the high prices that is worth a lot more than the same amount in USD, actually I think the worth is a few thousand above 25,000 USD$ per-month.

Corporate investment is granted to The Gizatte Company and a new start up raw material company Rearden Materials, based in the Mauritius, it could become a new high market capitalizer but who knows? Their investment would be hard to totally put a price tag on as the Austrian government is mostly concerned with stocks, foriegn investment, and abroad policy than the dealings of corporations (laissez-faire attitude) so there is no definite measure of how much they will pour into Cameroon beyond that it will be a lot. Even if we did know there is other less physical benifits, now the fathers can now get a job, the sons can move out on their own, providing pride and a little thing we call "consumer confidence".

I could go on and on the ripple effects of that, more private buisnesses that sell more to your own people than tourists, more moving out sons provide construction companies with more work and the material companies they get their supplies from whose sons will also move out and need new houses. A snowball effect, but you get the idea.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM PRESIDENT BIYA VIA PRESIDENTIAL OFFICE:

I personally thank Austria for their interest and willingness to help our humble country, and I personally invite an any level delegation that Austria wishes to send to Cameroon. I shall meet with them myself, and discuss any investment or economic proposals with them.

Our main priority is the Cameroonian people, and although I have stated that the government will be more involved in our industries and economy, we remain, if one wishes to label us, a democratic capitalist country. Labels, however, are not our concern, as I have mentioned. The people of Cameroon are.

Our border with Nigeria has recently undergone a tightening of security, if you may. We still encourage trade, ofcourse, and those who are legally coming into the country with no ill intentions have nothing to worry about. Wars in Africa have a way of spilling across borders, and that is something we would like to avoid.

Again, I hope an Austrian delegation will make its way to Yaounde for some more detailed talks. It is my hope we can develop warm relations and benefit each other.

OOC: All these new people! And to Strath/Armand, I'd be plenty happy to have McGhinty and Srebrenitska helping out in the ECOWAS, Brigadier Morrell needs all the help he can get. Plus, seeing an ageing general working with a pair of revolutionaries/terrorists would be amusing.

IC:

Outside Accra, Ghana

The phone buzzed and crackled in Morrell's ear, leaving little doubt in his mind as to the lack of a central command remaining in Accra. He was hardly surprised, the smell of UGC was strong even some sixty kilometres out. He popped the hatch of his Leopard I and looked around, watching the steady stream of refugees leaving the city. Some carried guns, some only the clothes on their backs.

It was hot out, he thought. But of course, this was Africa. It was always hot. He keyed the radio with his thumb, drawing the handset up to his face.

"All units, now hear this." Morrell chewed his lip for an instant, thinking swiftly. "Attempts to contact central authority in Accra have failed. I am hereby assuming command of this group in the absence of superior officers. We will be diverting armed refugees north to the Akwapim Mountains, where we will attempt to make a stand. Over and out."

Morrell hunkered back down into the drivers' seat of the tank and goosed its engine. The big machine roared to life, and he steered it expertly towards the main road where the head of the refugee column was starting to draw level with his tanks. He stopped the tank dead centre in the road and popped the hatch once again, flipping his radio from transmitting to public address.

"People of Accra," he said. His words were bounced out of a pair of exterior speakers on the side of the turret. "The French have just won another battle. But they cannot, and will not win the war. And the reason that they won't is you. You people are too strong to lose to the French. You have survived worse. But we won't win by running forever. We'll only win by fighting them.

"And that's what we're going to do. I'm asking for volunteers. I don't have enough men to staff these tanks, I don't have enough to use all the guns that we've brought. But if you join me, we can make the French regret ever coming back to Africa.

"Now, I need volunteers to come with me. The tanks can carry six or so on the outside, another four inside. The rest will have to follow in trucks or on foot. We're going to the Akwapim Mountains to hide and to train. And then we'll be coming back to kill the French. So, who's going to join me?"

Nobody said anything for a moment. Nobody even moved. Then, some of the families started to walk around his tank, on their way up the road. He sighed, and was about to close the hatch and admit defeat when eight young men came up to him. One had a kalashnikov rifle of some kind, another a few grenades. The man with the rifle stepped up and climbed wordlessly onto the back of the tank, grabbing tight to a handrail. The others followed suit.

And then more men came forward. Some women, too. Some carried guns, most didn't. By a rough head count, Morrell guessed that roughly a hundred and fifty had come forward, maybe as many as two hundred. Not nearly as many as he'd hoped, but enough to man all of his tanks and staff a platoon of guerillas as well.

And so when the column started north again, it formed the core of what Morrell hoped would soon be a real fighting force. Because after living in Accra for the weeks leading up to the attack, he hated the French as much as any man of the ECOWAS nations. And when he came back, he hoped to do it leading an army.

OOC2: Sorry to sort of bail on you LRR, but I sort of wanted to get things set up for NG's return in a week or so.

[OOC: Oy...It'd be too schizophrenic for my tastes, considering I'm RPing the Nigerian military...]

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM PRESIDENT BIYA VIA PRESIDENTIAL OFFICE:

I personally thank Austria for their interest and willingness to help our humble country, and I personally invite an any level delegation that Austria wishes to send to Cameroon. I shall meet with them myself, and discuss any investment or economic proposals with them.

Austrian officials are pleased by this turn of events and are sending a commission with Maxen von Bismarck at the head, so as to eliminate the irritant most people call the "middle-man".

*A day or two later*

As Maxen's jet touched down on some tarmac or another, Maxen wasn't so concerned with little things like that, he was swiftly escorted to the capital of Cameroon, Yaoundé, by several nicely made Gizatte luxury/utilitarian sedans. With German being the main heritage Maxen of course was drawn if not to to any one building but the idea that the old Prussians, hard as nails, were here at one point.

Cheerfully Maxen bounded up the steps, just to see his bodyguards sweat, and calmly walked through the front palace door.

The plan was clear, amazingly so, Austria was willing to give several companies unique advantages in putting capital in Cameroon by promising security, tax breaks, and rights of investment for 50 years, really just implying if they could do something in Cameroon they needn't worry about competitors. The other Ace was direct investment, some sociologists theorized that the paper currency of other countries don't quite hold the same appeal as the idea of hard silver in exchange for Austrian paper monies.

Regardless, the direct investment was bound to be a good card, in exchange for Cameroon being relativly independent, capitalist, and democratic if possible.

Anything else was in the future and not really all that important.......

'Liberated Zone', SADR
With Moroccan withdrawal and counter-battery fire, Polisario defenders slide back into their camps and concealed positions, aware that their artillery is no match for that of their adversaries. Refugees, too, begin a return to their homes, and an accounting is taken of casualties. The eventual number is released as '80 civilians murdered by the Moroccan aggressor', though Quinntonian and Hindustani aid workers on the ground know that the Saharawi may be overstating the number, including several individuals who died from complications of a desert journey rather than bullets or napalm. Those foreigners 'on the ground' also begin to sense tensions within the leadership of Polisario, as various elements seek to chart a new course that might see more success for the Saharawi than has been found up until now.

Combine aid is welcomed, and it is hoped that it will continue to grow despite the latest 'Moroccan trickery' (referring to the withdrawal). More than small arms, Polisario agents are searching for means to either breach the berm, or to deliver military supplies to those Saharawi trapped on the Moroccan side.

'Occupied Territories', Western Sahara

West of the berm, the Saharawi continue rallies and protest marches against occupation. At first, these are relatively peaceful, with violence restricted to the occasional smashed window of a Moroccan-owned business, but Moroccan dispersal efforts and passing military columns are greeted with a barrage of stones and rotting garbage.

Austrian officials are pleased by this turn of events and are sending a commission with Maxen von Bismarck at the head, so as to eliminate the irritant most people call the "middle-man".

*A day or two later*

As Maxen's jet touched down on some tarmac or another, Maxen wasn't so concerned with little things like that, he was swiftly escorted to the capital of Cameroon, Yaoundé, by several nicely made Gizatte luxury/utilitarian sedans. With German being the main heritage Maxen of course was drawn if not to to any one building but the idea that the old Prussians, hard as nails, were here at one point.

Cheerfully Maxen bounded up the steps, just to see his bodyguards sweat, and calmly walked through the front palace door.

The plan was clear, amazingly so, Austria was willing to give several companies unique advantages in putting capital in Cameroon by promising security, tax breaks, and rights of investment for 50 years, really just implying if they could do something in Cameroon they needn't worry about competitors. The other Ace was direct investment, some sociologists theorized that the paper currency of other countries don't quite hold the same appeal as the idea of hard silver in exchange for Austrian paper monies.

Regardless, the direct investment was bound to be a good card, in exchange for Cameroon being relativly independent, capitalist, and democratic if possible.

Anything else was in the future and not really all that important.......

As the Austrian delegate stepped out of the car, it was President Paul Biya's Chief of Staff, Mr. Quebeh Danquah, who was there to extend his hand and greet him.

Danquah was by no means a small man; in fact, when he walked next to the President, he resembled one of his bodyguards. He stood just under 6'3'' and looked like he lifted weights everyday. His heart, however, could not be any purer. Known as a gentle giant, he was the perfect greeting man.

"Welcome, Mr. von Bismark, we are most glad you have made it. Please, allow me to direct you. I shall take you straight to the President."

The Presidential Palace in Yaounde not spectacular by global standards, but it did feature enough luxury to turn some heads. President Paul Biya was situated in his office at the east end of the Palace, awaiting the arrival of the Austrian delegation.

Danquah opened the door, and ushered the delegate in, who was met with the warm smile of President Biya.

"Welcome, my brother. Please have a seat."

As the Austrian delegate stepped out of the car, it was President Paul Biya's Chief of Staff, Mr. Quebeh Danquah, who was there to extend his hand and greet him.

Danquah was by no means a small man; in fact, when he walked next to the President, he resembled one of his bodyguards. He stood just under 6'3'' and looked like he lifted weights everyday. His heart, however, could not be any purer. Known as a gentle giant, he was the perfect greeting man.

"Welcome, Mr. von Bismark, we are most glad you have made it. Please, allow me to direct you. I shall take you straight to the President."

The Presidential Palace in Yaounde not spectacular by global standards, but it did feature enough luxury to turn some heads. President Paul Biya was situated in his office at the east end of the Palace, awaiting the arrival of the Austrian delegation.

Danquah opened the door, and ushered the delegate in, who was met with the warm smile of President Biya.

"Welcome, my brother. Please have a seat."

OOC: So what language are we speaking, just wondering, Maxen obviously can speak German, a little Italian, can stumble along quite well in Russian and is competent in English.

"This really isn't that important, but me being only about 6' 2'' he is the only person who I actually feel "short" around, quite a change of pace, and no, I don't want you to lay him off, and no, please don't ask me why I now know to make laying a person off not a easy joke anymore.

Regardless, here is a few folders of varying little importance revolving around statements from several charities, corporations, and whatnot looking forward to having a good investment in your beatiful country, really they're just looing to get and edge, yes, even the "non-profit" charities.

What is more important is an item on my desk, which needs my signature to let several breaks and bonuses to anyone about to invest in Cameroon and giving several pre-ourdained companies several legislative powers. All we need is for you to say to me that you will capitalist, democratic, but I wouldn't stress that part, and pro-Austrian if we ever get thrown to some side or another.

Written contracts are needed, maybe just a charter of some kind?"

President Biya raised an eyebrow.

"By legislative powers, I do hope you mean in Austria, Mr. von Bismark. You ask that we remain democratic, capitalist, and pro-Austrian. Well, Cameroon stresses democracy and capitalism as the backbone of our country, and I can assure you Mr. von Bismark, that if Austria takes no stand against the interest of my humble country, then we should never look each other face to face, but instead stand side by side.

The companies opening here will be accomodated as much as possible. Foreign investment has been hard to come by, and I won't pretend it won't be a welcome addition to our economy. However, and I must stress, nothing is above the law here in Cameroon, Mr. von Bismark. We are trying to stamp out corruption once and for all."

OOC: We're talking in English. Little worried by what you meant by legislative power. If you can explain further. Also, I would love to know a bit about the specific companies (name, what type of businesses are opening, investment capital), I want to really take hold of my economy and RP it properly :)

President Biya raised an eyebrow.

"By legislative powers, I do hope you mean in Austria, Mr. von Bismark. You ask that we remain democratic, capitalist, and pro-Austrian. Well, Cameroon stresses democracy and capitalism as the backbone of our country, and I can assure you Mr. von Bismark, that if Austria takes no stand against the interest of my humble country, then we should never look each other face to face, but instead stand side by side.

The companies opening here will be accomodated as much as possible. Foreign investment has been hard to come by, and I won't pretend it won't be a welcome addition to our economy. However, and I must stress, nothing is above the law here in Cameroon, Mr. von Bismark. We are trying to stamp out corruption once and for all."

OOC: We're talking in English. Little worried by what you meant by legislative power. If you can explain further. Also, I would love to know a bit about the specific companies (name, what type of businesses are opening, investment capital), I want to really take hold of my economy and RP it properly :)
OOC: Of course I mean Austrian, Austria is giving lucrative government contracts to those certain corporation, the two corporations are The Gizatte Company who is like a Toyota who makes the Ulan and helps in the Dpkz I and II. Started out as a back door garage shop it has spread all across he globe with branches in Germany, Britain, Yugoslavia, Italy, and Russia. Devoted to Austria is also seeks to make itself and Austria along side into a "Uberpower". Reardan Materials, a new corporation which I havn't done much with is about raw materials and based in the Mauritius with branches in Yugoslavia and Austria.

IC:

"Well then my work is done here, have a good day and I plan to enjoy some of the comforts, brother."

OOC: Responding to NG's post made in Iron West.

IC:

The declaration of war against the Sultinate of Morocco wasn't particularly showy, just a telegram sent to the government offices in Rabat. It read:

"In light of Morocco's decision to aid the government of Spain during wartime, the declaration of war against Spain has been extended to the Sultinate of Morocco. All appliccable laws of war apply. The Free Colony hereby reserves the right to attack all Moroccan warships, such as they may be, capture all Moroccan shipping and destroy all Moroccan military assets."

And when the news came to Hanson Air Corps base, the pilots were ready. While shipments of Lancaster II bombers were on the way, the 89th Bomber Wing still flew the Vulcan. They were the same unit that had been of late embarrassed over the skies of Morocco, and they were this time going back.

Brigadier Cox, who had commanded the operation against Morocco, had been reassigned. His replacement was a younger man, a pilot himself. Colonel Dan Mitchell had been drawing up his own attack plans for some time, ones which would hopefully achieve similar results as the one planned by Cox, but without the risks.

The 89th was to be armed with cruise missiles, and flanked by the 4th Squadron of A/F-18Es and the elite 114th Suicide Kings squadron of AS-12s. The AS-17s of the 20th Skymasters would fly CAP over the Azores to prevent missile attacks, and they were armed accordingly with variants of the Aster-15 which had been adapted for fighter use. An AWACS aircraft would be tasked with monitoring the situation from a standoff point out to sea.

The 89th and the 4th would no doubt show up on long-range RADAR, the bombers especially. The Moroccans and the Ordu Du Saint-Esprit would no doubt sortie against them, only to meet twice the number of expected fighters as the 114th's stealthy fighters proved their worth. There was no need to get close to the target, either. The 89th would launch from long range, firing their cruise missiles before turning away. Hopefully, they would face no resistance.

The first of the Vulcans lifted off the runway and began their relatively slow trip to the engagement zone. In the cockpit of the lead bomber of the 89th, Major Lavisser flew his aircraft back to the site of the squadron's embarassment. This time, there would be no mistake. Morocco would be greeted with dozens of cruise missiles falling on military bases, on ports where the Spanish were offloading, and on Rabat's government centre. And this was only the first wave. They'd be back, next time with another squadron of fighters at their back and eventually, higher-capacity Lancaster II bombers.

Air Corps base, Australasian South America

Two newly-minted squadrons piloted their newly minted fighters from the runway. They were the 115th and the 116th, as yet unnamed. They were equipped for a ferry run, and they were to be met by the three fuel tanker aircraft midflight. So cared for, the fighters would continue their trip to the Azores, where they would be incorporated into the island's air defenses. They would raise the number of squadrons there to five, three of which would fly the newest of the Australasian fighters.

Austria is getting more and more displeased with the belligerent attitude of Australasia when it comes to free trade. Since as it stands it seems nothing from Europe can actually reach anywhere.

France- Seized, impounded

Spain- Seized, impounded

Russia- Seized, probabaly impounded

Italy- Seized, probably impounded

Morroco- Seized, impounded

Southern Confederacy- Seized, impounded

That is a long list! Especially considering vital ethanol from The Southern Confederacy is not reaching Austrian shores! Gasoline is now spiking up after a relative calm period. So Austria must ask that all state's ships destined for Austria must be allowed in. We cannot have a functioning economy with you runnung around like a swashbuckling pirate.

OOC: Southern Confederacy's trade is closely watched, and weapons sales are discouraged. I don't sieze or impound anything with regards to them, I just make ships destined for La Plata pass very close to irritated looking corvettes. The Chinese aircraft shipments are going fine, (They're landing in Chile, I think), and I honestly don't care what he imports or exports, excluding weapons systems which my government watches. I'm assuming that it was an IC communication, so...

IC:


During a time of war, it is necessary to use whatever means available to cause harm, hardship or discomfort to one's enemy. While the Free Colony harbours no particular ill-will towards Austria, the current policy of guerre de course will stand insofar as the nations of the Holy League and their allies are concerned.

This is not without historical precedent. Since the beginning of sea trade, nations have attempted to cut, capture or destroy the waterborne supply chains of the enemy. Even before, the supply train of a land army was and still is a legitimate target for attack. If taken to the next logical level, this extends to the civilian shipping which is the lifeblood of the nation.

If Austria finds itself uncomfortable with its current trading partners, it is advised to seek new ones.

Moorington: Europe is in the grips of a war of almsot ww2 intensity, you can hardly expect that to be conducive to trade and it is not as if air travel has been at all easy in europe for the last 10-15years.

OOC: Gurg, I declared war and dispatched a navy to Morocco right after they launched their renewed offensive upon the Sahawari, so just a heads up there. And Spizania, I need to know how manys days it has been since that assault? From everyone else, how long would it take to get an invasion fleet to Western Sahara?

Uh, we seem to have two timescales going, perhaps three. In one, (which only concerns myself, W-o-S and NG) it's June 13th and the battle is going. In another, we're something like a week after that, when both the Quinntonian and German conferences are going on. And lastly, we're several weeks past (Jul. 1st or so) I think, which is the New Caledonia/Sahara-Morocco conflict and the ECOWAS war.

However, Mac is back and says no to the landings in Morocco, at which point I'm mostly uninterested in the nation once again and the war with Morocco is cancelled. But I want to be sure, you know?

Uh, we seem to have two timescales going, perhaps three. In one, (which only concerns myself, W-o-S and NG) it's June 13th and the battle is going. In another, we're something like a week after that, when both the Quinntonian and German conferences are going on. And lastly, we're several weeks past (Jul. 1st or so) I think, which is the New Caledonia/Sahara-Morocco conflict and the ECOWAS war.

However, Mac is back and says no to the landings in Morocco, at which point I'm mostly uninterested in the nation once again and the war with Morocco is cancelled. But I want to be sure, you know?

There are no Spanish landings, but i still got French missile bases being set up along the north coast, and im still recieving huge shipments of arms from France. The Straits of Gibraltar will soon be closed to you.
NG, ive got a list of kit i need, how should i get it to you?

OOC: We'll see about that.

IC:
Some 280 km out from the Northern Coast

"All aircraft, report readiness." Major Lavisser was working the mic, eyeing the RADAR board carefully and watching the datastream from the AWACS aircraft some three hundred kilometres out to sea. The rest of the 89th Bomber Wing responded with variations on the theme of 'ready', as the twenty Vulcans cruised into the target envelope.

"Prepare to deploy weapons." The weapons officer keyed in a sequence to his board, and a row of green lights came up. He flipped some switches, and target data began scrolling across the screen. The target was the French missile emplacements on the northern coast, and each of the Vulcans carried a three air-launched cruise missiles in their retrofitted bomb-bays. The missiles were programmed to free-fall until they reached extreme low altitude, and then skim the sea before popping up and hitting their targets on the coast.

Lavisser grinned joylessly. The last time he'd been here, he was lying through his teeth, negoitiating with the ill-trained pilots of a mad despot's air force for his life and the lives of his men. Now he was back.

"Deploy weapons on my mark." The rest of the 89th sent the acknowledge signal, and Lavisser's hand tightened on the control stick.

"Three, two, one, mark!" He could hear the rhythmic chunk of the missiles dropping away, could hear the radiomen intoning 'Angel-five, three,' the Australasian jargon signifying a clear, clean missile launch. The bay doors rumbled closed again, and Lavisser rolled his aircraft onto a course leading her home.

"All aircraft, begin return flight." Out of the window, he could see the Super Hornets of the 4th drop back to cover the 89th's tail, while the 114th rose to extreme altitude above.

Colors flashed. The sound of a fast-ticking clock came to life.

“I’m Mike Wallace, I’m Morley Schaffer, I’m Ed Bradley, I’m Leslie Stahl, and I’m Steve Croft…us, and Andy Rooney, tonight on Sixty Minutes.”

More music, followed by a break. On came a commercial.

The screen revealed a large SUV moving along a winding road. “Faith Motors, to Quinntonia, this means a tradition of excellence. Based in Detroit for decades, we’ve served Quinntonia with safe vehicles, strong engines, and old fashioned Quinntonian belief.” The SUV revved by, displaying a safe happy family in it, as it drove up and lifted off into heaven. “Faith Motors, to get where you want to go.”

Sixty Minutes came back on, showing Mike Wallace sitting in front of a curious relief. It was the coronation portrait of King Louis-Auguste of France superimposed onto a highlighted graphic of a Europe and Africa lit up.

“Our first story tonight is The Crisis Maker?: Behind the Scenes with Louis-Auguste of France. In the first ever of its kind report, I went behind the scenes to Versailles, where I gained a confidential interview with this leader, perhaps one of the most controversial figures in world politics today. Being the first Quinntonian to be allowed a personal, unfettered, one on one interview with the reclusive King, I didn’t know what to expect…”

The screen flashed away, and focused on a smiling Mike Wallace riding in an open and bright blue horse drawn carriage down the splendid pathways of the formal park promenade at Versailles. Everything was abloom and beautiful. He narrated the scene: “The King wouldn’t meet with me at Court, but instead brought me to a small pleasure house on the Chateau grounds, le Petit Trianon, for a more personal setting.”

The camera zoomed past the fragrant gardens to the pleasure house, before fading to a bright and sunny room. Two nice and plush simple chairs had been set up facing a window with an unabashed view of the scenery. Mike Wallace was sitting alone, looking depressed and straight ahead like he always does, when a door opened and in came His Most Christian Majesty…but you wouldn’t have known it. He traded all his finery in for a simple white short sleeve shirt, collared and open one button, with white slacks, dark brown leather belt ending in simple, trendy dark brown leather loafers. Even his wedding ring was simple. Without his Court costume Louis-Auguste was an attractive young man of 27, with wavy and thick dark hair, fine featured and dark handsome face (a noticeable five o’clock shadow), fine physique…maybe even sexy, and striking bright black eyes that seemed to exude that French romantic vibe.

Mike Wallace was obviously shocked seeing the King in such a state as he rose as formality indicated to greet him:

“Your Majesty…”

Louis-Auguste laughed clearly like a bell, waving Mike Wallace gently down into his chair.

“Call me Louis, and sit, sit,” the King himself sat after the obviously stunned reporter, mirth in his eyes at Wallace’s surprise as he gave him a long warm stare. Wallace’s eyes were wider because no interpreter was needed, Louis-Auguste spoke perfect English, with only a charming French accent “I’m not a man of great formality,” he said, as if loudly confiding a great secret.

“Then you just call me Mike,” said Wallace, they both shared a long hearty laugh. Louis crossed his legs, and sat intently as if at attention, awaiting a question. “My God, you look so young, I’ve never seen you like this before…”

“Please,” said the French King “don’t tell my Court that!” Another long and hearty gusto of laughter was shared. Wallace settled in, crossed his own legs, and proceeded to ask his first question.

“Louis, lets start with this apparent ‘crisis’ in West Africa. There’s people displaced, combat taking place here and there, you’ve got tribes fighting tribes, religious tension, economic depression, all kinds of problems with different political factions striving for power,” as he listed these events with rising digits, the camera moved to Louis, and it showed him nodding his head seriously as Mike spoke “,is there any hope for peace?”

“Absolutely. You know Mike, I believe people are inherently good,” here Mike Wallace was shown nodding “, and I have faith that given just a little more time, we can see some great results in the region. Already we’re seeing a consolidation of peace-keeping forces, and God willing, and the great and good people of West Africa willing, I’m confident we cannot only see this crisis through but make legendary leaps in the welfare of that region.”

Wallace looked incredulous. “That sounds pretty optimistic.”

Louis shrugged and beamed a warm smile at Mike. “What can I say, I’m an eternal optimist.”

Even more incredulous, then the hints of a smile. “Not formal, an optimist, Louis, for a politician, you sound like a fun guy to be around.”

Louis looked both ways then broke into a larger smile. “Don’t tell my wife that!” Raucous laughter between the two men ensued, to the point where Mike Wallace was clapping his knee. Both men settled down again by sipping tea out of ready delicate but simple, bourgeois, cups. Wallace soon regained himself, being the superb journalist that he is, and continued his line of biting questioning.

“Indeed you are married,” Louis nodded “, to the Tsar’s daughter no less…”

“…Jillesepone” Louis chimed in.

Mike agreed and continued. “How do you find the married life?” A wink. “With all the time you must spend working, how do you find the time for family? I ask this because I’m told apparently you’re a family man, it must be hard to be so busy and raise children…”

“Right, right. Both my wife and I are very busy, sometimes incessantly, as I’m sure you yourself often find life proceeding.” Inclination from Wallace. “But we make our kids a priority. The other day Peter was visiting, its tough, you know, my wife and I only have partial custody,” a sad nod of understanding from Mike “, so we have to spend our time with quality in mind…for example the other day Peter said ‘Anger management comes out of a gun’, so I took him aside and asked him where he heard that. ‘Will Ferrel’ he said. I can tell you, so we have no more weird comedies in this house. It’s hard to raise children today, no way around it, but with hard work and love, a good wife, the best wife, I tell you, anything is possible.”

“Louis---ever the optimist?” posed Wallace.

Louis shrugged helplessly. “Its true Mike, it’s true.” Then he wiped his nose quickly and elegantly with a handkerchief.

Mike Wallace tensed like he was going to zoom in with a hot topic question. He leaned forward, relishing every millimeter curved and every syllable uttered.

“Your youngest brother has come out of the closet, and now he is saying he is gay.” The bomb dropped.

Louis took the question, nodding in real confirmation as Wallace dropped the bomb, it took the interview to a real serious place.

“Louis…,” began the King, but the intrepid journalist lightened the mood in recompense again quickly. “There’s a lot of Louis’ around here I can see.”

Louis laughed quickly but honestly before proceeding “In this house, man, you better believe it…” and then swiftly took back the seriousness of the question. “But seriously Mike, we found out he had been living with his football team mate as of his 21st birthday. He had been doing drugs and partying a lot to hide from the truth, it was real difficult for him to accept, he’s always been the athlete in the family. Consequently it was a difficult topic to bring up, but I wanted to be loving for him, as a brother. My dad would have never understood, but then I’ve always been the one in my family to want to promote healing. So he ended up embracing who he is, and now Louis and Jacques have a domestic union, which both my wife and I embrace. Love the sinners not their sins, we say. They’ve just moved back in with us.” He finished with a beaming smile.

That had satisfied Wallace, the earth shattering revelations of the interview were coming to an end.

“Louis, your closing words. What do you want to say to Quinntonia, and indeed everybody out there in the west watching right now?” Wallace was more captivated waiting for that response than he was in 20 years.

Louis pondered for a moment, and then spoke. The camera was focused in squarely on him now, and he shyly batted his stunning eyes directly up to the lens. “That peace, furthermore amity and human dignity, for everybody is not only possible, but that its here. Mike, I predict that in the weeks to come discussions like you’ve never seen will break out: ceasefires, policy amendments, real sit down at the table kinds of stuff. Now, don’t you call me an optimist here Mike. The International Community is sitting on a goldmine of diplomatic harmony, and we’re blessed to be alive and witness it.”

The King continued. “Take Australasia and Great Walmington, for example. We three nations share so much in common: devotion to domestic welfare and tranquility, good liberal rights for all, a proper health care system…did you know Mike, that 27% of Australasians can’t afford health insurance yet the government still ignores their plight in favor of a continued policy of military expansion?”

Sadly from the anchor “Yes I did, I see now you saw our report last week.”

Emphatic nod, the delightful Frenchman was so damn charismatic. “As you know Mike I’m an avid fan. Anyway now so we have all these similarities and differences as well. But it is these contrasts which give us a pluralistic wealth, a wealth of community and relative understand: let’s try and focus on our similarities, instead of arguing about our differences. We can do better than this Mike; we have to do better than this---for our children.”

“More than all this, however, there is only one thing I want to say in farewell.” The camera moved in squarely on the eye batting King again. “To the people and their lawfully elected leaders in Quinntonia, Great Walmington, Australasia, and Roycelandia…even to the far reaches of China and Japan:” His eyes simply seemed to melt into the camera. “My love, and the love of my family, will be with you always; in Christ.” A few more battling eyelashes and he was done.

“…that, Mike, and I insist you get back here at Christmas and stay with us for a decent amount of time.”

“Louis, it’s a deal.”

The screen moved back to Mike Wallace in the studio, sitting in his director’s chair, smiling benignly.

“We’ll be right back.”

Louisbourg, Cote d’Or

For the first time in the war on the French Bourbon side, His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste could display both a clear and profound victory to his people.

Benin and Togo, as of 12:00 a.m., had ceased to exist.

In their place a new state, Cote d’Or, was founded, its capital formerly Porto Novo, renamed Louisbourg. At the Coronation Ceremony of General Tomboke, held in an undisclosed location in the capital, a new government began.

The Grand Almoner of France Prince-Cardinal Louis de Rohan was brought from Versailles to officiate. Wherever it was the hall was richly decorated, of course with items that would return to Versailles with the Prince-Cardinal. Lawrence Tomboke was dressed in rich velvet robes, and knelt in front of the Cardinal who held a golden coronet. The General was a massive man, easily 300 lbs., with a bald head that accentuated his large and stern face.

“Do you swear to uphold the Catholic faith, serve the Most Christian King, defend the right, punish the wicked, break the false, and succor the poor?” asked in chant de Rohan.

“I do,” said Tomboke, humbly.

“What name shall you take?” asked the Cardinal.

“Leopold.”

“Then, by the Grace of God, I crown thee Leopold I, Prince in Cote d’Or.”

The coronet went down on Leopold I’s head and he replied “Amen.”

What bells there were in Louisbourg, and a few had been erected, were rung. Cannons fired and ten gun salute over the city. The audience, a mix of several French key aristocrats on hand for the occasion, officers in Prince Leopold’s Tsarist Nigerian secret police trained goon squad the Royal Colonial Guard, members of the new ruling collaborationist elite, and French administrators and military officials boomed applause as the trumpets rang and Leopold I rose to mount his throne.

New edicts spewed forth instantly. A grand building program for the capital was to begin. There was to be a Cathedral in Louisbourg, done in the French Gothic style:Notre Dame de Afrique. A hospital, run by the Good Sisters of Perpetual Mercy, would be erected alongside a colonial university to train more skilled laborers. Necessity also dictated an arsenal for weapons and troops, needless to say there would also be an administrative palace for Leopold I and French officials to reside in. There would be a high rise district for French commercial interests, and housing built up stronger and better planned than before. The new city would be built completely in the French style, to the extent of even having a central park alongside the newly planned waterfront. Unfortunately, there would also have to be a new prison for malcontents, mais quelle dommage. In the countryside new rail projects to the countries rich mineral resources were planned, along with enhancements of the existing structure, which had not suffered damage at all during the French Liberation.

However, before these idealistic projects even began, power would need to be turned on again with water. The city, in light of the current atmosphere, would also have to be defensible. Blockhouses would have to be raised, along with platforms to deploy AA and ASM weaponry. Trench works and barbed wire were the most pressing need, as they were easy, cheap, and quick to build. The airport and harbor were at least fully operational, having been expertly repaired and improved by the Royal Army Engineers.

So it was the very first proclamation issued by Leopold I was the creation of a massive new “Job Opportunity Program”. This benevolent edict would remove hundreds of thousands of country dwellers to Louisbourg. After all, there was no work needed in the countryside right now, people living there would actually be a nuisance what with all the guerillas skulking about in the hills. So massive truck columns staffed with Royal Colonial Guard militias’, with a great share of the vehicles tractor trailers on loan from Tsarist Nigeria, began to relocate whole villages from their rural living. People were allowed to bring one suitcase, and off they went to a new life of high wages and good possibility. Then the ‘government men’ requisitioned everything else, from livestock to leftover corn seed to anything of value…although there was really quite little. Their villages, now empty and at risk of becoming rebel hideouts, were burned. Huge camps were pitched outside Louisbourg…labor camps.

The upside was that, if they worked nice and hard, they would be given a good hot bowl of rice at the end of the day, vitamins (although they came from France no one knew quite what they were or did, only that they were ‘good’), and formula for their children. Workers would be allowed a share of meat on Sundays, after they attended Mass. So many different tribes in one place hardly spoke a common language, which the French and their administrator eagerly encouraged. If they could only understand what the Government said, so much the better.

Let the prosperity begin!

40 miles due south of the Akosombo Dam, immediately adjacent to the ECOWAS Volta Lines

12:14 a.m.

The French forces, the so called Grande Armee, had after a long and often haphazard drive secured Benin and Togo and last crossed into Ghana. Resistance had occurred, but Monseigneur le Duc de Normandie, Prince of the Blood and Supreme Commander of all French forces south of Algeria, took relatively light losses in men and material in his drive so far.

To be sure, fighting had been much tougher than Versailles had ever dreamed coming as it did from ragged ECOWAS. Nevertheless, the Grand Army now prepared for the largest land battle since the Second World War. With Cote d’Or secured by Nigerian special forces and burgeoning collaborationist militias under Prince Leopold (as well as a French Light Infantry Division) and Louisbourg starting to take shape, le Duc de Normandie gathered his mighty armies together. The Royal Vanguard Legion had regrouped, and were joined by five previously stationed Gardes Francaises and six newly assigned divisions which now formed the III Corps of the French Army. Combined, these forces totaled over two-hundred thousand men, over half of them again professional shock troopers serving in the RVL. They had rested for a few days while the tanks and artillery filed in, and now formed a line of advance directly against the strongest opponent France had faced since the disastrous years before the Restoration.

News from the landings in Cote d’Ivoire were very encouraging, as was le Marquis de Huerin’s imminent drive into Abidjan. Accra had been gutted, and so this would be the place of decision. His Most Christian Majesty’s younger brother had planned to launch a staged invasion in waves, his standard modus operandi throughout the campaign.

But Versailles noticed the formidable Ghana armies, and King Louis-Auguste himself, for the first time in the entire war, issued a direct military order to his forces. This order was relayed to le Duc de Normandie at 3:00 a.m. by his Aide-de-Camp. As the Aide lit the lamps, the royal’s bleary eyes looked over the ultra-secret dispatch from the desk of France’s Sovereign himself.

My dear brother, launch a full scale assault along the line of engagement using all your forces. This battle is critical: we must win absolutely, decisively, and most importantly quickly. I know you can accomplish this feat, know it will secure your magnificence in the annals of history. Know that as you strike the largest operation in the history of our military has begun. I pray God to now take you into his keeping….Louis R.

The Duc leapt up with a start. An all out offensive? Dear God, the King wanted another Hi’Itakchi, only now he expected his brother to lead it; yet he faced a large force, dug in, and ready for revenge. But if his brother was the sun king, surely he was a planet.

Springing up from bed, he called to his men.

“Sound revelry, sound out the troops, bring up the artillery, and God damn it form your lines!” he shouted as he quickly dressed in his uniform he marched out to bark orders.

The entire army moved, turned, and woke to life…like the monster Grendel itself.

5:58 a.m.

Le Duc de Normandie looked out with his binoculars out into the valley, and the river beyond. The binoculars came down, and he handed them away to an aid. He checked his watch. In two minutes, on three different fronts in Africa, Versailles would launch the largest French offensive since World War I. After rousing the troops, the artillery had been brought forward. Even now le Duc looked to his right, where artillerymen of the Royal Vanguard Legion were setting up a battery of heavy Lafayette howitzer cannons.

RVL Artillerymen prepare a bettery of heavy Lafayettes (http://www.cookeville.com/news/images/iraqwar/howitzers375.jpg)

Everything was in place, these were the last few moments of calm before the storm. He checked his watch, it clicked away to 5:59. In the distance, he saw hundreds of black dots appear. The Ordu du Saint Esprit was on time. The enormity of the bombardment flushed him with a sort of excitement, but also dread. In order to win glory and inspire his beloved army, he was going to take part in the fighting, as a matter of fact in the thick of it.

Tick, tock.

ODSE scout craft, which would be needed for the battle itself, had not even bothered to scan the enemy positions. Intelligence satellites too were all occupied with the massive naval battle and providing information to the Grand Fleet. They had stayed just long enough to verify the enemy army’s position at the time of the attack, and went away.

With what was coming, any data would be irrelevant save pertinent topographical data.

Over five hundred French MLRS vehicles, cannons, stationary rockets and heavy mortars, spaced over the army’s length of line 90 miles long would participate in the bombardment of the enemy side of the Volta. Some 207 ODSE aircraft, from 3 Lancaster II bombing wings to Mirage-2000’s to Mirage III squadrons from the Royal Algerian Air Force would aid in the strike, deploying cluster bombs and the dreaded UGC. There, across the river, from what ground reports could determine, over 40,000 of the enemies best troops were prepared to repulse le Duc’s drive west to Ghana.

They would not be an obstruction much longer.

The ground shook with the incoming aircraft, and he checked his watch yet again. Behind him, he heard attack helicopter pilots receive the trumpet to stand to, and prepare for action. The aircraft were nearly on top of them now, all down the line men took their positions next to the artillery.

6:00 a.m.

Le Duc de Normandie turned to his Aide de Camp, who nodded, confirming the time. Monseigneur then gathered himself.

“Open fire.”

Thunder louder than anything nature could produce shook the earth, and from hundreds of miles around the bombardment was obvious. Shells screamed, missiles soared, and mortars thudded continuously.

A Battalion of His Majesty's MLRS launchers unleash hell (http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/land/mlrs-steelrain.jpg)

A battery of light Lafayette howitzers pound the enemy posistions (http://bushsupporter.org/war/pi091202a5.jpg)

French 155 mm AUF cannons fire a barrage (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/b/b2/French_155_AUF1_cannon.jpg)

And then the planes hit, before the shells could even land, such was the coordination of the attack. Likewise, noticeable for hundreds of miles, the ODSE lit up entire square miles of the opposing Volta. Again and again the craft soared swiftly over, and again and again cluster bombs and UGC billowed up in plumes.

The earth shook, to the degree Rictor Scale’s began to pick it up in Papa Africa’s homeland. For two solid hours, the French unleashed every shell and rocket they had stockpiled for this battle, the major battle they had anticipated at the hands of ECOWAS. The ODSE concentrated all its support to the battle in this once massive stroke of force. Cannons fired repeatedly, shelling and shelling and shelling. The hits from the heavy mortars were particularly noticeable, they blew tons of earth straight into the air, leaving weeping craters. The smoke from the MRLS units created such clouds they obscured the view of the French momentarily.

Fires and clouds from the intense bombardment began to block out the sun, and there was still one hour to go. By the second hour, the other side of the Volta had been transformed from a lush forested savannah to a smoking, black, and cratered wasteland.

Silence returned, but again only momentarily. Having checked his watch before the end of the bombardment, Normandie mounted his M-1 Abrams tank, as were all the tanks in his personal bodyguard force. When the time came, the trumpets rang out, and the fifes and drums began to play their march. The tanks revved to life. Scout craft and attack helicopters rose above the French, and moved against the enemy. The Battle of the Volta River was underway.

8:00 a.m.---Southern Crossing, 42 miles north of Volta Delta

The first French action would be launched by the 17th Division of the Royal Algerian Army, on assignment with le Duc. Although the epic bombardment had no doubt shattered the enemy to pieces, this far south where the river would have to be crossed by boat…well, no Frenchman was eager for that sort of courage display. Well, maybe eventually, but certainly not the first ones across. Therefore the Algerians, quite understandably, were a bit nervous about the attack. On this account special stores on narcotics and amphetamines were injected into the 13,000 charging first across the river. Their cowardice left them, and in instants there were champing at their bit to man their boats, and charge across the river to bloody combat.

At seven sharp, the advance began. All had been moved into position during the artillery and air attacks.

Rising as a wave, the Algerians appeared on their side of the river from their cover as one, carrying, each 100 men, large canvas boats. Some carried the outboard motors on specially rigged carts. In seconds the bats abutted the river and the motors were attached. Within the minute, the first wave of 3,000 were across. Seen behind them were the second wave rising with their boats, about four minutes delayed.

Howling likes wolves the first Algerian wave hit, and the machine gun fire tore whole files down to shreds. It came from many places, and was focused. Sadly for Papa Africa though, they did not prove enough to turn the attack back. The trumpet called: “Duck…fix bayonets.”

Down they went, the bayonets went on. Several companies erected light mortars, and waved the OK signal. The trumpet sounded: “Full charge!”

Howling again they rose as one, this time closer. Fire was returned. Then the enemy was engaged. ECOWAS soldiers, some with burn wounds, fought the Algerians from their positions, receiving a furious counter-fire. The mortars spat their shells. Yet the advance was slowed, and after a quarter hour stopped.

But then the second wave arrived, with the third behind them, howling like wolves. The advance rose up, the charge was resumed. Pinned down, enemy units gave wave. More ground was gained. By the time the third arrived and the forth was on their way, the enemy hold on this section of the river was broken, with the ECOWAS troops forced to retire north, and receiving a hot fire the whole time. No physical attacks were made yet, the Africans hadn’t yet gained a chance to get close enough.

Horribly, that would change.

In the mean time, with a firm beachhead, General le Marquis de Grammont, commander of the Royal Vanguard Legion ordered the elite shock force to cross in full power, and soon the boats were ferrying the RVL troops, all 70,000 of the attack troopers, across the Volta.

Immediately regiments were sent on combat patrol northwest, in a linear fashion one after the other progressed, they made a bee line north west. The Algerians, having accomplished their mission, were left to dig in and hold their position in peace, with the medical corps tending to their men.

The RVL troops soon caught up to the African forces, engagement was made. But they were not the Algerians, in a disciplined manner they soon had the ECOWAS troops moving north again. It was then that it would hit the Africans, when they heard reports that an even larger force had sliced it’s way across the river north, in the shallows without having to worry about boats: they were being pincered in…they were being cut off, to be annihilated.

8:00 a.m.---Northern crossing, at the 90 N. mile point of the French line

In huge formations, moving with armored columns of the Order of the Golden Fleece and commanded by le Duc in person, the French crossed at their projected northernmost point directly across the shallows.

ECOWAS resistance was over-run immediately. III Corps of the Sons of St. Louis (the standing French army), a force of 100,000 Gardes Francaises came across in assault battalions, one after the other. The advance was long across the charred earth, and resistance was fierce and took a bloody toll. However the mighty advance simply ran over it, like an elephant being bitten by mice.

It was then that le Duc de Normandie unveiled his master-plan. As the huge III Corps rolled south supporting its own lines with ease he shot forth like an arrow with a Brigade of OGF Armored Cavalry while APC’s and armored trucks carried the 3rd Division of the Royal Army Korean Heavy Infantry, a picked force of elite mercenaries, in close formation. Before the Africans could pull back, he had cut them off from the north. The pincers had locked.

Battle of the Volta River

From 7:00 a.m. that day onwards the battle continued unabated. Roaring attacks were conducted by both sides, but the French had attack helicopters. Still the battle continued. The Africans fought intensely, battered as they were, but it did not stop, the French kept coming. The armor kept rolling.

In the melee French tanks, charging ECOWAS positions with guns blazing, directly ran over enemy troops. Then they ran over their own troops. It was melee across the entire lines. Le Duc himself was in direct combat. Some time in the late afternoon his of Abrams ran afoul on an ECOWAS company, not a light one either. The fighting was brutal as Normandie's Swiss proved why they merited such a high price, beating back the more numerous Africans, in some cases firing from a tank immobile from the enemy company’s attack on its treds. The Koreans arrived, but not before in the melee the Duc’s tank itself was hit, bad. It had to be evacuated, and so in his Kevlar bodysuit he ditched it with saber and FAMAS.

He emerged into direct combat. It was hand to hand. The Swiss were holding, but just barely. A bullet hit his suit, knocked him down. The ECOWAS soldier came screaming at him. The FAMAS took his chest out. The Duc rose, countered a bayonet just in time, and ran the man though with his saber.

He was shot eight times at the Battle of the Volta River, becoming a hero in the process. The last hit took his knee out, made it through the suit, and he was evacuated as an honored wounded. Beaten, the African attacks stopped. But the French did not advance just yet, simply completed all the necessary encirclements…night was falling.

When darkness did fall, the French activated their night vision in sync with their attack helicopters. Woe to the ECOWAS stalwarts, it was a moonless night. What followed was the most sanguinary combat since World War II. Advances were made across the lines against ECOWAS positions, now clearly visible. Fights were shot at a distance, or throats were cut up close. The two opponents hated each other as fire does ice, and neither gave the other room for quarter. But the French, with all advantages, and simply by such mass volumes of firepower, crushed the ECOWAS army under some time before 4:00 a.m..

When dawn rose, it revealed death along the Volta River. French III Corps Gardes lay next to their dead ECOWAS opponents, arm in arm in a sick partnership. Bodies were everywhere, and fires were ongoing ever since the huge bombardment the day before. When the count was made, the French Grande Armee had lost 1,173 soldiers in the battle. Of those, a full 900 were members of the Algerian 17th Division, crushing losses for the outfit. Other losses ran high. There were 3,002 wounded men. Of ECOWAS, no one knew how many died. Their bodies were everywhere, everywhere. But it was ascertained that the enemy force had been broken.

The French paid a terrible price, but had succeeded at their master’s command. The potent ECOWAS force was in tatters, butchered like a pig twice over. Nothing had been left of it. The French had captured of the force only a few hundred, all wounded, whom they treated before sending them to a special Louisbourg work camp. It goes without saying that any Australasian soldiers captured in the battle would be especially taken custody of and dispatched without delay to a location in France itself.

And so Ghana lay open. The African obstacle had been annihilated in a bloodbath of hate and iron, and Accra was still smoking.

Le Duc, a war hero for this victory of blood and steel, was taken back to France by jet for a recovery at Versailles before he was honored with a Triumph in Paris. Command was turned over to le Marquis de Grammont. He rested the troops for several days after the exertion, taking care of the dead and wounded. Supplies were again established, the Volta was, on both banks, in French hands.

Then columns, like a spider’s web, began to spread out and overwhelm with complete air superiority key points of communication. The plan became clear, it was a link up with the Cote d’Ivoire forces the French were after, Accra would simply be cut off and besieged under those in side surrender or were dead, the French would waste no soldiers in taking the burned out city. Besides, if the Progressive Fleet arrived, the free but ailing city would be a nice trap to lure the reds into, being as it would be impossible for them to refuse such a tempting option.

French State Media would have two victories to report to the people of France the next day on behalf of King Louis-Auguste.

And then terror for Papa Africa…it was not just a link up in the west the French were after, but the north as well.

Operation Heroic: 12:14 a.m. Burkina Faso

The second of His Most Christian Majesty’s direct military orders, actually the first as it was conceived long before the Battle of the Volta, was Operation Heroic.

It was a nostalgic reenactment of the climax of the Lavragerian War. There are many things to recall about that war against that country of barbarians and socialists by Tsar Wingert and Louis XX. All of them are important for historical purposes, in the main, but especially pertinent to the conflict in West Africa was this: Louis-Auguste, then the Dauphin of France in command of his own picked force, the Royal Dauphin Corps, broke a ghastly stalemate in the war by mobilizing first a massive paratroop force to take the key point far behind enemy lines, then, once the paratroopers had secured the ground, brought in the entire army via a series of non-stop around the clock transport plane reinforcements. And he supplied that army continually by never ending airlifts…to the extent that a force of 800 M-1 Abrams tanks (a gift to the Dauphin by the Tsar on the day of his daughters wedding to Louis-Auguste) was mobilized by the process as well.

The operation allowed the Dauphin to kill the enemy’s lines of supply and communication before proceeding to directly smash Lavrageria’s key army. Only days later, the war was over, and a peace was signed.

It was the birth throws of the mighty Holy League, and Louis-Auguste had basked in the victory. Now, with Operation Heroic, the Most Christian King would apply the move to Burkina Faso…only this time, with the element of complete surprise.

The operation was, in every sense of the word, heroic. It would be the second most expensive venture undertaken by France during the entirety of the war, the first being the ongoing naval battle.

On that same moonless night that troops battled on the Volta, with the signature of King Louis-Auguste, Operation Heroic began. At several points over the pitch black country massive aerial columns of French transports, high above, droned onwards towards their sites. Hundreds of turboprop transports were involved, with the operation being based out of Fte. Ste. Joan in the south of the Kingdom of Algeria. All three drops occurred with marked efficiency within three minutes of each other.

Firstly, the Royal Army 2nd Turkish Heavy Infantry Division, 14,000 expertly trained troops, mercenaries, would be HALO dropped several miles outside the vital city of Koudougou, the link in all of Burkina Faso’s transit networks. The scout planes reported the agent had succeeded, and without weapons overloaded Koudougou’s electrical network. The city was as dark as the night. Inside their transports the red lights turned green and the cavernous rears of the planes opened. The best night gear in the world was activated, GPS confirmed, select weapons fitted with silencers, and assault rifles holstered. Once the division floated down to earth they crept towards their goal silently in solid black uniforms and gear. The airport fell first, waves of men taking the place in silence, like ghosts, killing the defenders without a sound. After that the alarm was raised, but with the airport taken, the nearly invisible troopers, some of the best trained fighters in the world to boot, proceeded to slaughter the defenders all night long. Some times they would distract them with loud fire, only to let silenced squads come from behind and quietly finish the ECOWAS loyalists. The cities administrative center and key points had all been seized before dawn, with hardly a loss.

Secondly to the south another segment of the operation was underway. Like Koudougou, Bobo-Dioulasso’s power plant had a bribed man inside. The city was pitch black when the troops landed several miles outside the city following their HALO drop. Like Koudougou Bobo-Dioulasso is a vital strategic point, commanding the northern approaches out of Ghana/Cote d’Ivoire and the southern out of Mali. This time it was the Royal Army 3rd and 4th Czech Urban Combat Regiments, totaling 12,000 paratroopers. As their name implied, they were specifically trained for urban combat, training tirelessly under the Bourbon Monarchy for just such an occasion. With the exact same methods as their fellow mercenary Turkish counterparts the Royal Czech Regiments took the airport by silence first, and used loud fire and silent fire alternatively to take their enemies in the darkness. By dawn, Bobo-Dioulasso had fallen too.

That leaves the third drop, which as you might guess landed just outside the capital. For Ouagadougou, where there was a longer fight anticipated, the power plant was not just overloaded. Seconds before the French mercenaries hit the airport several cruise missiles launched from on high streamed into the large power plant, bringing down the power like a brick wall. There was deployed the very best of the forces dispatched, the Royal Army 5th and 8th Royal Army Swiss Heavy Infantry Regiments, totaling 12,000 men. These troops could parachute and scuba dive with equal ease, fight in the Artic or Sahara equally well, and so had been employed to take the capital. The Suisse Regiments were the pride of the King’s very own Royal Army, that elite force of picked mercenaries loyal only to the Bourbon King, and he had contributed them only reluctantly. But for such an important mission, only the most excellent would do. With the very same tactics, the Swiss came into Ouagadougou. The airport there was larger, but the Swiss were perhaps the best soldiers in the world. It fell to the pitch black mountain men. Special teams elite even for the Swiss stormed the blind, for those without night gear, government complex. Having reviewed the plans they stormed the building in minutes, without hesitation finding the leaders and important people and immediately putting them in detention. The President of Burkina-Faso would be an especially delicious catch. The premier team had the task of safely apprehending this extremely valuable personage whole and unhurt, he was very much wanted alive…as were any and all members of his government. And so the Swiss, far more effective than their comrades, overrun the cities key points of communication (if not the suburbs) by 3:00 a.m..

At dawn the next day, when light revealed the carnage on the Volta, transports began droning into all the airports, unloading tons of troops and supplies. ODSE air support, free from having to support the massive Volta battle, swarms in and again with complete air superiority proceeds to cover the gigantic wains of cargo craft flying into Burkina Faso to support Operation Heroic. The spies for ECOWAS would know the insignia of the new troops landing, and the insignia would be made indubitable when M-1 Abrams tanks begin landing as well: His Most Christian Majesty, in an exact repeat of the Lavrageria flanking maneuver, was landing the Royal Dauphin Corps itself. Battle hardened and royally sponsored, they spelled doom for the central West African nation.

Versailles was duplicating the climax of the Lavragerian War, and ECOWAS was now being put between the hammer and anvil.

Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire

Le Marquis de Huerin, Commander of the French force attacking east from Cote d’Ivoire, was delighted that the Guineans seemed not to want to fight. Rather, they pulled back north in anticipation of an invasion of their own land.

Huerin did nothing to dispel their notion; with them pulling out, his three Gardes Francaises divisions, after a touch and go drive from San Pedro, now saw Abidjan lying open before them. After the regrettable removal of Accra as a metropolis, His Majesty’s men needed a capital for a new, greater Cote d’Ivoire. That would be Abidjan. It would come as no surprise, if the ECOWAS troops had radio communication, that the French attack would fall on Abidjan coinciding with the other massive assaults around West Africa. Le Marquis had orders that, seeing as the French were looking to be short on functioning cities, he was to take the city block by block, with every effort spared in regards to leveling the African town.

A little after midnight then the supporting Royal Navy ships began to lay down heavy smoke screens over the city…after all Huerin’s men were good, but they simply did not have access to the equipment the Royal Army did. So the smoke was laid down, and along the cities entire southern dark and smoky outskirts the Marquis and his men began a cautious and mutually supporting advance into the city, with every effort taken to limit loss to civilian life and the cities infrastructure.

That did not mean when the French encountered heavy fire coming from an apartment building an attack helicopter wasn’t called in, and with a unit of the ground lighting the building up pour missiles against the rebel resistance in their nests.

Two divisions moved into the city directly, while the third moved north to cut off an enemy retreat and prevent and guerillas from sneaking into the city. So it was that Abidjan experienced the full thrust of the time offensive.

Gao, Mali

The Royal Algerian Army was assigned the task of taking Mali, and eager to impress his brother-in-law Louis I ordered a suitably large operation. The number of Algerian troops in Mali now was around 132,000 troops. Their commander, General Jules Yusef, set up his headquarters in Gao, and with 32,000 troops set about turning the area into one of the theatres major supply centers and links. He divided the rest of his forces in groups A and B. The Malian theatre was not so massive a part in the launched offensive, but it was still vital, and with light air cover support began its offensive to coincide with Louis-Auguste’s other moves.

Group A consisted of 58,000 soldiers, supported by a French armored column. Moving along the east bank of the Niger River, they turned north and proceeded towards Timbuktu. Group B, containing some 30,000 soldiers and supported by older but still good Algerian armor, moved south and made attack towards Mopti. The ubiquitous support of the Algerians from the air were hundreds of Huey helicopters bought at cut throat prices from good Emperor Royce I, with sizeable numbers of Mirage III’s from the Royal Algerian Air Force.

The movement took place along major roads, and so progressed swiftly. In the wide open country, enemies were spotted long before they attacked. And so Mali fell under the sword as well, with no less potent an assault aiming for its gourd than any other components of Versailles’ master plan.

Versailles

As night settled after the day of Operation Heroic and the Battle of the Volta River His Most Christian Majesty, in the early hours of the morning, sat at his magnificent desk in the state rooms, still wide awake, smoking a cigarette. He was back to wearing his Court attire. The whole massive palace complex was sleeping soundly, but the King quietly smoked his cigarette, staring out the window into the dark Grand Parc.

On the desk beside him, on a golden tray, was an empty syringe. Only seconds before the King was alone the Royal Surgeon M. de Quesnay had given Louis-Auguste his ‘calming solution’, making the exhausted monarch both comfortable and invigorated. The King had rolled his sleeve back down, but the stress of the massive war was beginning to tell on his face. He took another drag, and a Garde Suisse admitted his Prime Minister, Monsieur le Comte de Maurepas, to the Royal Office.

There, after a while thinking, Louis-Auguste began to give strict instructions to the Prime Minister, he would be going to Quinntonia with the Minister of State M. de Vergennes immediately. A Quinntonian airliner was ready at Louis XX Airport in Paris to ferry them safely across the ocean to Washington D.C..

His Most Christian Majesty instructs M. de Maurepas (http://www.freinet.org/creactif/moulin/EXPOSES/HISTOIRE/REVOLTE/IMREVOLT/revolt42.JPG)

The Prime Minister was a brilliant man, as was Monsieur de Vergennes. They understood their vital task, as important as any ever carried out by the Restoration Government. With a deep bow M. de Maurepas left the King, tears of pride and joy swelling in his eyes. Within an hour he was airborne and on his way.

After he had left, Louis-Auguste too felt better. The right thing, it seemed from Maurepas’ reaction, had been done. He knelt beside his crucifix, and said a long litany of Latin prayers lasting a good hour. Feeling now relaxed and confident that everything that needed to be done had been, he called for his valets to put him to bed.

OOC: Doesn't LRR roleplay the ECOWAS forces?

15 km North of the French Lines

Brigadier Morrell perched dejectedly on the top of his Leopard I, straddling the barrell and watching the utter destruction waged by the Mad King of France. He had just arrived, too late. Nobody had expected the ECOWAS lines to hold in the face of a full French attack, since the Gallic invaders fielded larger numbers and better equipment than the stalwart Africans.

When the troops of Ghana arrived, in good order, they met some sixty tanks and a hundred men riding on the back of hastily appropriated trucks. A mechanized unit, of sorts. Those who still had units formed quickly enough, before recieving their orders and continuing on. But as with any military defeat, there were the stragglers. The broken, the mad, the blind and insane.

There was nothing that Morrell could do for the last few, but those unitless, leaderless infantrymen that pooled around without clear cause or direction he gathered.

"The French, as you no doubt know, are finally here. We knew they were coming, but no troops could have withstood that kind of assault. From what I saw of the battle, you performed as well as any unit I have ever seen." Morrell, who had not been at the battle, was acutely conscious of the fact as he addressed the dirty, tired Africans.

"You fought the French shock troops, some of the best infantry in the world. You fought men on amphetamines, and you killed them. But the French are still coming, and I'll need you to fight again. I'll need you to fight for your homes, for your families. But you don't need a motivational speech from me, your spirit is strong enough already.

"I am asking you to follow me. To bring your guns and your bodies and to serve Ghana again. No, I'm not from around here. I'm an Australasian, and these are Australasian tanks. But I have fought before, and with your help I can do so again.

"We can stop the French, but I need you to join me. We can stand against them and we can make this war so terrible, so violent and costly, that even the Mad King will wish he had never come to Africa!" The men regarded him coldly. They had fought and died while this... this man had watched from the safety of his tank. But he had weapons, and he looked like a fighter. Some of them edged away, melting off into the night to find another unit, a milita, a place to run. Others stepped forward, and climbed on the backs of the trucks with their assault rifles in hand. Perhaps another hundred, maybe more.

Morrell got on the radio. He listened for a voice giving orders, sent out regular messages asking for instructions. If there was to be another battle, he would be there. And he'd fight, this time, until either he or the French were dead.

The thick, black boots of General Kuwabara crushed the leafy undergrowth beneath them as he strode forward. The wind rustled the branches of the trees around him and made his long, walrus moustache wiggle in the air. He breathed in the hot and humid Nigerian air, glanced once more at his detailed satellite readings, and reached the reinforced concrete bunker that would serve as his first command post in this war. His mouth issued a series of orders as his mind once again pondered over the invasion plan.

Nigerian forces would make four initial thrusts into the main Niger military centers of Tahoua, Zinder, N'Guigmi, N'Gourti. The assault would be spearheaded by the elite Black Mamba forces, who would deploy one heavy mechanized division, one light mecchanized division, one heavy infantry division, and one light infrantry division, which would total up to 40,000 of well equipped and well trained elite troops, which was already four times the size of the much less funded Nigerien Armed Forces. Simultaneously, 40 MiG-23 multirole fighters would launch forays into Niger, first focusing on eliminating all major military airfields and anti-air installations, and then bombarding all identifiable military targets. Once the initial phase of the campaign was complete, Black Mambas would push further into the impoverished and famine stricken nation while regulars would flow in from behind to firmly establish Nigerian control. The border zone was moslty composed of savannas and flat plains, which made travel quite easy for the motorized divisions and hiding difficult for any potential insurgency, the Nigerien armed forces were miniscule, poorly funded and trained, and Niger’s main military backers of Morocco, Algeria, and France had all turned against what was, by some measures, the world’s poorest nation into Nigeria’s next military target.

But there was more reason for invasion than sheer convenience; ethnicity, nationalism, ambition, and perhaps even a bit of goodwill all factored into Impiri Ghosni Mubarrak’s decision to launch an invasion of Niger.

The Hausa were the largest ethnic group in Niger, and the largest one in northern Nigeria as well. These ethnic ties had endured through European colonialism, Ghadafian Communism, and beyond, even resulting in seperatist tensions within northern Nigeria. But now Mubarrak had forged a state more powerful and a nation more prosperous than Niger could ever dream to be, and the Hausa foresake their seperatist plots for visions of a unified Nigeria and Niger; rather than split off to join their brothers, they sought to bring their brothers into the grand fold.

That old demon, nationalism, had once again reared its ugly head as well. The implementation of badly needed reforms, the renewal of the oil and gas industry, and of course, the massive flood of Tsarist investment had revived a nation once crippled, and had in turn sparked a new sense of pride within Nigeria. The people began to carry their heads high again, and the word Nigerian no longer evoked images of poverty, corruption, and internet scams, but glorious empires of times long gone by, booming oil fields, and military and economic might. For long, analysts had said that Nigeria should be the most powerful nation in Africa---and now Nigerians had begun to believe it. This nationalism was not directed in opposition to the Tsar, however; indeed, it was quite the opposite. A new Nigerian national identity had begun to emerge, one where the culture of Nigeria now bore a Russian accent, where the Russian tongue was now fashionable in Nigeria and Nigerian musicians became popular in the Siberian steppes. Two seemingly disparate cultures had begun to merge into one, and new beast roared mightily upon the plains of Africa, speaking in Russian but bearing a Nigerian accent. This new, Russo-Nigerian nationalism convinced the Nigerian people that they were destined to once more become a great power, and that the path to destiny lay in Niger.

Sheer ambition, both on part of the Mubarrak and the Nigerian people themselves, also lay behind the grand gesture. There were only two possible outcomes of this war: total defeat and total victory. No matter what he did, if the forces arrayed against the Holy League prevailed, then Nigeria would crumble alongside the French and the Spanish. Thus he would hope for a French victory, and would plan for a French dominated West Africa. It would be foolish for the now middle aged Nigerian leader to simply sit by and let the French and their Algerian puppets take the entire pie; he, too, would have his fair share, and perhaps begin to propel Nigeria to the superpower status he desired for it. Nigeria had once been a mighty empire, and with Niger returned to the fold perhaps it could be one once more.

Finally, one could not discount the fact that Nigerians were not cold hearted beasts, and did have some of their neighbors’ best interests in mind. Niger had suffered tremendous famines, horrific corruption, and economic disaster due to the sheer incompetence of the buffoons who ran its government; Nigeria could hardly stand by and let them continue driving their neighbor into the ground. Catholic Churches, Islamic Mosques, and Pagan Temples throughout Nigeria delivered fiery sermons about the moral imperative of liberating the Nigerien people, and raucous songs of revolution, lifted from Beth Gellert and blended with ancient Tsarist military hymns as well as old Nigerian chants, sang of the salvation that would soon be at hand.

It was with these ethnically driven, ambition laden, nationalistic, and morally empowered flames within their hearts that the Nigerian forces drove into Niger, singing merrily this little tune.

Oh Papa Africa has faded away
Socialism has lost its merry tune
Africa has a bright new day
To Grandpa Wingert we now croon
And with Mubarrak we shall dance
To give the Son of Africa a chance!

Presidential Palace, Yaounde

He had not slept in 2 days. He had garnished what he could in terms of reports coming from the former ECOWAS nations that had fallen to the French. He had held his head in shame, he had gone through 3 bottles of whiskey, and he had lounged in his chair for hours, staring either at the TV screen or a blank wall. He had seen the rebirth of the darkest period in African history: the years of the colonizations.

Very soon, he was going to have to deal with some imperialistic European bastard, whose only interest in Africa was its resources and the monetary potential it had. Some arrogant, conceited, superior-than-thou aristocrat who would demand all bow before him, who would demand to have everything done his way or for consequences to be paid.

The ECOWAS had fallen, and the Russian-controlled Nigeria were planning their own invasion into long-suffering Niger. Cameroon had done what it could; it had shut off the border with Nigeria completely and sent troops to maintain control over their side of the border. The newly constructed air force base just south of Resevoir de Ouest was to be heavily guarded by Anti-Air artillery, in case the destructive European conquest machine came knocking. Any resistance the Cameroonians could put up, they would.

Biya sighed, bags under his eyes from another long night. Cote d'Or. Benin and Togo, gone. Accra, destroyed. Estimates of civilian deaths were no less than 100,000, and expected to be more. Cameroon had long remained neutral as the world destroyed itself, but how could one remain neutral in this one? Not Biya, and not the Cameroonian people, but more than a public condemnation of what the French were doing was not possible.

What was to become of Africa? What was to become of Cameroon? Biya sighed once more.

OOC: Sorry for the hiatus, was swamped at work!

OCC: I thought so too, G-man...

IC:

Porto Novo

Standing destroyed and depopulated on account of its treatment at the hands of France's fighting men not any more than a week earlier, the Beninese capital stands solemn witness to the coronation of the pretender and traitor Tomboke, and as a monument to the brave sons of Benin who fell in defense of their homeland. In the refugee camps established just outside the ruin, there are riots, Benin's homeless loudly and angrily defying French superiority in every military capacity in an effort to show that they aren't going to be cowed into submission, at least not yet. Tomboke's selection of the name "Leopold" comes as a significant insult by itself, the Belgian Leopold being of course accountable for devilish atrocities in the Congo.

The French, having, after all, bombarded the city, will find the repair of even basic utilities a daunting task in itself. Benin's power station, never a well-built complex to begin with, was utterly destroyed rather early on, along with its water works, and before the French can even think about building any new infrastructure they will have to clear away the mountains of debris. This is of course to say nothing of plans for reconstructing the capital at large, and the Beninese know that the French will be hard-pressed to come even within sight of the fulfillment of their very large promises. So with makeshift flags waving and fires burning, the 200,000-odd former citizens of Porto Novo riot well into the night, and the French be damned if they try to stop it. Entheusiasm for the occupation is miniscule enough as it stands, and Versailles hardly needs the stains of another massacre on its already filthy hands.

Rural Benin

Benevolent is hardly the word for the invaders' "Job Opportunity Program." It should come as no surprise to the beasts now seated in Porto Novo that, when the removal columns start to arrive, they are met by massive resistance from villagers unwilling to give up what little they do own to do forced labor rebuilding levelled Porto Novo. Poorly-trained and thoroughly inexperienced collaborationist militiamen are, more often than not, met by surprisingly large ambush parties who strafe the necessarily long, and necessarily immobile, truck columns with machine guns and AKMs, and once the escorts and drivers have met their deaths, burn the already-damaged vehicles. Even small villages fight the columns, often with little more than molotov cocktails and farm tools. They do, after all, have plenty of time to prepare, as it is somewhat difficult to sneak tractor-trailors along rural Benin's poorly-maintained and narrow dirt roads. And with heavy units further west, the militia levvies, still very much active and infinitely more ready than the small numbers of French-trained militiamen, come out in force to make raids and set-up ambushes. The occupiers will find out the hard way that one does not remove people from their homes and land lightly, without serious consequences.

Lines of communication, now stretching into Ghana, are also put under pressure by the militia levvies. Truck columns bringing ammunition and fuel from Tsarist Nigeria to the troops along the Volta face ambushes or improvised mines at almost every turn as the emboldened militiamen. Those with the highest doses of Lusakan training, those who held-off from engaging the armor and heavy infantry, make their presence felt as well, and often bring stashed NSV heavy machine guns along on raiding and ambush operations. French special forces and Beninese Quislings claim more than their fair share of loyal militiamen, though, and road patrols are doubtless able to disrupt many ambush parties before they have a chance to strike. But the fact remains that most of the Beninese countryside remains firmly in the hands of the militia levvies, and will stay as such until the French occupiers are able to commit a more serious force to deal with the problem, or until they change their highly contentious and disagreeable policies. Perhaps official reports to Versailles claim that the collaborationist militia's numbers are growing, but in reality this could hardly be further from the truth.

Togo Mountains

Perhaps the puppet Tomboke had been crowned, and his rule over the Cote D'Or proclaimed, but on top of the many thousands of active militiamen in Benin and Togo each by themselves, Togo's 7,000-man regularly army is still stubbornly entrenched along the hilly border with Ghana. With Lake Volta at its back, the Togolese Army is not about to be outflanked, and has so far repulsed all of Normandy's half-hearted attempts at dislodgement. It stands to continue doing as much for some time longer, with the benefit of defenses prepared for just such an eventuality plus those that the Togolese infantrymen have been busily constructing ever since the French army bypassed them. Supported by L118 light howitzers, a handful of FV101 light tanks, and many light mortars and AA machine guns, they are even in something of a position to mount limited offensive operations, although nothing of the sort has been tried yet.

In order to secure Togo and Benin beyond an official capacity, Normandy will be obliged to deal with the well-entrenched, heavily-armed Togolese Army, and when he does, the Togolese can only hope that he deals with them like he dealt with the Tumin Kalmakoff's column outside Hia'Itakchi.

Northern Togo

With heavy units concentrated elsewhere, and French forces seemingly uninterested in the northern part of the country, Togo's militia levvies take the time afforded to them to stockpile ordnance and fine-tune ambush tactics for when the inevitable onslaught does come. A trickle of surplus weapons comes in across the northern portion of the Ghanaian border, and from Burkina Faso, along with Lusakan-trained advisors and cratefuls of explosives. The northern towns -Mango, Kante, Bassar, Niamtougou- are filled with militiamen and fortified with antitank barricades, while airstrips and roads are wrecked to prevent the easy movement of French armor.

On the Volta, South of Akosombo Dam, Ghana

The scene after Ghana's day-long struggle with the French invaders is indeed one of total devastation. The Volta's immediate left bank is virtually devoid of vegetation, a consequence of the heavy French bombardment, yet many strong-built Ghanaian bunkers still stand, their occupants dead inside after fighting tooth and nail to save their nation from the ravishing Frenchmen and their Algerian lackeys. Civillians, many of them refugees from villages destroyed in the fighting, are on the battlefield at first light to tend to the wounded and to carry away the dead of both sides. And there are a great many dead, that much is sure. Like Kalmakoff's heroic mounted column, the Ghanaians had fought to very nearly the last man. The First Front Army under Major General Theodore Ahafo suffered, of its ten thousand personnel to start with, well over 7,000 killed and another 2,500 seriously wounded, with less than two hundred men surving to rejoin the 2nd Front Army. General Ahafo is himself among the dead. Having run out of ammunition for his Rk.62 assault rifle, he attacked a disabled Leclerc with his 9mm Browning L9A1 automatic pistol, and became the man cut-down by Normandy in the end.

Scattered fighting continues throughout the second day, as French lead elements encounter parts of the 1st Front Army's largely incomplete deep defenses and clash with militiamen. Two Ghanaian MB.326Ks, rugged attack-trainers that Normandy's men had met in Togo, also show-up over the battlefield. They fly, as usual, extremely low in order to avoid early detection and attempt to drop cluster bombs on the river crossings.

But if Normandy thinks that he had dispatched the entirety of the Ghanaian Army, he is sorely mistaken. The flat, treeless Accra Plains had indeed contained the most obvious concentration of Ghanaian troops and armor, and most of that had been destroyed in the Battle of the Volta, but French intelligence had apparently overestimated the strength of General Ahafo's force by some 30,000. The road to the capital, defended as it is by a mere three thousand infantrymen, is very much open, and Normandy had dispatched all serious resistance between the capital and the Volta, but Ghana is not so daft as to let the French demolish the Ghanaian Army in a single decisive battle.

Outside Koforldua, Akwapim-Togo Range, South-Central Ghana

In sharp contrast to Normandy's doubtless opulent headquarters, Major General Desmond Yeji coordinates the 2nd Front Army from within a large pit dug by his staff and concealed with a piece of camoflauge netting. A small radio antenna poking out above the treetops is the only thing that readily identifies the site as anything of significance, and it has so far been spared an air raid. Also unlike Normandy, now sitting pretty in Versailles, Yeji recieves very little in the way of good news. The defeat of the 1st Front Army comes as no particular surprise, exposed as its position was, but the manner of its collapse that is unexpected. Yeji is at once shocked at the totality of its destruction and filled with pride over its heroic conduct in defense of the nation. And besides causing the French their heaviest losses to date, Ahafo set a precedent that Yeji is not about to ignore.

Then again, chances of success in the Akwapim-Togo Range, while still quite slim, are better than out on the Accra Plains, and Ghana's well-prepared defenders have at their disposal a sizable network of trenches, blockhouses, and interconnecting tunnels to complement the advantageous terrain. Unlike the troops on the Volta, Yeji's 2nd Front Army had also managed to complete a fair system of fall-back positions should the first line defenses fall. French aircraft and artillery will have a much more difficult time locating positions to attack, while Ghanaian L118 howitzers, twelve in all, sit in hardened shelters cut into the rock. Yeji's force is uniformly better-equipped, with Javelin SAMs, Milan ATGWs, and enough WOMBAT recoilless rifles to cause light armor serious problems. With the 3rd Front Army under Major General Kwame Nyakasikana guarding the western flank, and the 4th positioned above Lake Volta to check any French assault from that direction, the Ghanaians have themselves a fairly defensible piece of territory, with which they fully intend to stall Normandy's armies for as long as possible and cause them the maximum amount of casualties.

Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

While the nature of the French assault on Burkina Faso does take Burkinabe generals very much by surprise, its timing does not. The massive French transport fleet, attempting to deliver a force of paratroops much larger than that which was landed in the opening stages of Operation Overlord, is first detected by Malian observers and then by Ouagadougou's own early warning radar, a heavily-defended piece of infrastructure that even France's commandos would be hard-pressed to gain access to. Therefore, when the Swiss arrive over the capital, they find that the Burkinabe forces there, some 8,000 men-at-arms in total, are ready and waiting. Even in the darkness, the Burkinabe regulars can make-out the aircraft shilouettes, and they are also able to pick-out the shapes of paratroops as they drift down against a starry backdrop. The greatest concentration of troops is in and around Ouagadougou International, one of the only fields in the country able to support heavy transports and therefore a logical site for a French raid. There, Burkinabe defenders are not blind, with six Finnish-built 23 Itk 95 antiaircraft machine guns, equipped with night sights. Tracer fire soon sweeps across the night sky as the guns try to thin-out the paratroopers' ranks.

In the time between the announcement of inbound French transports and their arrival, Burkinabe technicians had the presence of mind to move the Burkinabe Air Force's two HS-748 transports onto the Ouagadougou runway, and to puncture the tires with machine gun fire. Several more aircraft are positioned along its length, including several lightplanes and a government-operated Boeing 727, before Army engineers scatter mines along the taxiways. It is hoped that the Burkinabe regulars will be able to hold the position for long enough to prevent the easy removal of the block-aircraft and mines, and to these ends trenches and machine gun nests are manned as heavy-caliber weapons cut into the paratroopers in the air, or as they land.

Outside the airport, resistance is much more sporadic and less-organized, but the Swiss mercenaries, unfamiliar with the city, or at least moreso than its residents, face many ambushes and barricades. They will also find the government complex largely empty, Blaise Compaore having left some time ago to a more secure, and much less obvious, location along with his cabinet.

Bobo-Dioulasso

The going is much easier for the Czechs in Bobo-Dioulasso, whose defenders are, for the most part, distributed outside the city. They do, though take fierce machine gun fire in their descent from the town's small airfield, which is also mined before its 200-man garrison beats a hasty retreat. By morning, though, there is only sporadic fighting, with many Burkinabe regulars and militiamen perished from the night's fighting. Units outside the town proceed to destroy railroads and roads to the best of their ability, and set-up ambushes for the paratroopers once they leave the shelter of the town.

(OCC: That's it for now. I'll have the rest up in a bit. One thing, though...I didn't go into the morning at Ouagadougou, since I think NG made it a bit more of a pushover than I would have done myself.)

Moorington: Europe is in the grips of a war of almsot ww2 intensity, you can hardly expect that to be conducive to trade and it is not as if air travel has been at all easy in europe for the last 10-15years.

Hey, more weirder stuff happens on here than my silly belief that kicking Austrian trade..... somewhere where it hurts, I should try and send my disapproval. Don't worry, I'm not that hypocritical to declare war on Australasia after having such a fun time exporting Europac engines to her, but I do want to try and tone back that, in all honesty, the main merchant fleets are liable to be sunken at anytime while giving a monopoly to Roycelandia which will be just that much harder to break after the war.

So I would like to either A: Ask you to stop sinking stuff, or B, let the Holy League fly Austrian colors. (Fr you who do not know look on the offsite forums for full coverage of the Austrian flag)

Ah, as for Cameroon, I like that style and in one of those once in a World War things Austria actually considers your independence someting good, even with no Austrian strings attached. *Shock, awe*

So anything we can do to help we will do.
:)

For the most part this is an OOC ramble since most of my African forces are no where near, the closest would be the bit still operating out of Sao Tome (will be proabably closing the vast majority of my base there in the next year or so) and Maritania (guys who were sent to help out the refugees).

OOC:
i really hate to bring up OOC concerns, but i feel i msut bring up one very major point:
Airlifting Abrams: In a word NO!!!!
You might just have a few aircraft capable of actually carrying the beasts if you can call on the russians but you have not had the time or resoruces to acutally develope an indiginous aircraft of such capability.
Even if you have such aircraft the sheer logisitcal strain of airlifting abrams and keeping them supplied is beyond the resoruces of the USAF and they have more aircraft which are larger than anything anyone in europe could develope any tiem soon.

I am sorry that this wasn't called on back last time you tried it but i am more than convinced that such a move is more or less impossible.

Sorry i if i appear a bit unreasonable but i haven't gotten started on the issue of airtasking orders and air support/artillery deconflcition which at your tempo of operations seems to be beyond that of RL NATO capabilities.

OOC: Gurg, how are your Bombers being escorted? Your AS-12s and AF-18s dont have the range to even reach Morrocco with a normal combat load, let alone return to base afterwards, are you using tankers or buddy tanking?

((Sorry about not doing the sea battle, I just had to respond to this first. LRR, I didn’t respond to your post region by region per se, but all the movements you made I answered to. Strath as always I won’t argue with your logistical logic, notice the amendments below…your advice has helped as often as it has hurt, and I make no claims of any kind of being an authority of military, hmm, minutiae? See, I don’t even know the word.))

Cote d’Or

From his throne room, the former dining room of Porto Novo’s finest hotel (which isn’t saying much…but the building had survived the assault in tact and was made of reinforced concrete), Prince Leopold watched the chanting protestors. Not only had the 200,000 started to march, but some hundred thousand again brought in from the rural areas had begun to march with them. Beside him, Monsieur le Baron de Gueret, General of the 40th Grades Francaises Light Infantry, and the garrison commander in Cote d’Or, felt a chill run up his spine. Peasants marching at night with torches made his wig itch. The news coming in from the removal efforts were similarly bad. The truck columns were cancelled after one day, when no less than two full columns of precious trucks, some 12 vehicles, had been killed drivers and all, to a man.

“Highness, shall we fire on them?” de Gueret was afraid, and left alone himself perhaps would have executed the foolish order, and in doing so undermined the entire war effort itself. Luckily, there was a reason Versailles always picked locals to be the leaders of their respective allies. Leopold just grinned, which was frightening. He had hundreds of plain clothed collaborators out there.

“Noo. Da kang wants dem good, dey too valuable.” The Prince’s heavy face studied the torches and people marching.

“Highness, then what shall you do?”

“Teech dem.”

Miles around the city and far from the scene of the riots, the 40th Division deployed barbed wire fences and land mines abundantly, as well as roads to patrol the lines with ease and speed. Only two checkpoints were left open into the city and camps, with large garrisons to monitor ad check the traffic. No one would be getting in, or out, without Leopold’s blessing.

The next morning, a full line of tables had ready cauldrons of oatmeal and honey, steaming hot loaves of bread, meats and even juices. Work for the day was cancelled, maybe the week, the rioters had won their demands. Huge lines began to form, and the uneven lines of people, in a rather confused manner, proceeded to feast themselves.

During the feast, those whose minds were still buzzing away would notice that, all of a sudden, some people were missing. As a matter of fact, every loud voice and organizer of the riot, some 172 charismatic individuals, had simply vanished. No one knew where they were, or where they had gone to. People supposed they had gotten lost during the feasting, which lasted for several hours and was haphazard. The food just kept coming, even to fourth helpings for some individuals. When they returned piecemeal to the massive camps, they noticed two things: first, those who had disappeared did not come home, and second, the camp was divided into four quarters, with a variety of French troops and their collaborators patrolling the demarcations. Often they had with them huge teams of vicious German Shepherds with them, barking and pulling on the chains. Huge flood lights were set up overhead. As they trickled back from the feast in a jovial manner they were directed by the troops, serious and with weapons secretly without ammunition (most of them) but bayonets ready, to their new section of housing.

There be no more riots, and they would work. Shrieking steam whistles sounded every six hours, and every six hours a fourth of the camps men and childless women were released from their section of the camp, and in teams of a hundred marched to work sites in the city under strict and forcible guard. Roving teams of men with attack dogs were the order of the day. Huge flood lights were stationed in the city too, where the “Job Opportunity Program” would be implemented twenty-four hours a day until the city had been made defensible with working water and power, in rotating shifts of six hours. Those who worked well, and cooperated instead of fomenting rebellion, were allowed to move to a separate camp, where they were given privileges and where there were no flood lights or dog teams and where they were allowed to spend several hours a day building a new home in the city, in monitored groups, for themselves. When not doing that, they were given light duty simply expanding the ‘refugee’ camp in anticipation of many new arrivals. Leopold planned to turn the four units into eight before every long. Those proving themselves loyal enough were even recruited into the collaborationist militia. Never again would the situations occur that gave rise to the riot. Those causing trouble were quickly and efficiently spirited away to who knows where, no violence would be directed against the refugees at all.

These actions were possible for while they were rioting, a dispatch was sent to de Grammont, and that very night the Royal Army Korean Heavy Infantry 3rd Division, the 6th RVL Division, and the 19th Division of the III Corps returned from the front to Cote d’Or, which clearly needed reinforcing.

The Royal Army Korean Division proceeded directly to Louisbourg, to assist the 40th and secure Prince Leopold’s situation completely. Having done a good amount of fighting so far, the mild police duty would occupy the elite mercenaries until they could be rotated out of the theatre for fresh troops.

The 19th of the III Corps would clear out Lome, the former capital of former Togo. It would become an improvised French fortress, and they didn’t need any hot African bodies there. They needed them in Louisbourg. Besides that, quite honestly, the only apparatus the French had set up to support civilians was at Louisbourg. So, in huge stages, the residents were marched out of the city in wains and orderly formations. Trucks, deemed too valuable to expose to attack, were no longer provided, save to the elderly, sick and children. The entire division held the evacuation under guard as they proceeded along the well guarded French coastal road to the capital. The upshot was that instead of just one suitcase, they got to bring everything they could carry or otherwise mobilize with them. Gazelle helicopters zipped by low, to make sure no one was fleeing the column. People, after all, are a states most valuable resource, and Leopold had great plans for them, his principality, and his prestige in the eyes of the French monarch.

The 6th RVL Division would split to conduct two different missions. The first group of 6,500 was broken down by highly mobile ‘hunter’ companies, and with helicopters and jet cover forcibly cleared the countryside and hunted down guerilla units like foxes. Each hunter company had an element of Royal Colonial Guard troops, angry and eager to use their French allies and attack those who had been mauling them. The guerillas were vicious, trained and dedicated. They were terrorists, and had no rights. So the Beninese and Togolese collaborator troops were used to finish off the survivors after the RVL professionals, with easy air cover in the planes, broke up their rebel juntas. To save the cost of using shells, often times the collaborators would simply take machetes to the vicious rebel stalwarts. But, let it be noted, it was always the collaborators that ‘finished the firefight’, and evidence was burned and tucked away courtesy of them. In either case, the plains of lower and central Cote d’Or, indeed the majority of the principality, were being efficiently swept clean. It was one thing for rebel guerilla’s to attack truck convoys, and quite another when they were being hunted by professionals with close air scouting and support.

The second group, this of 7,000, had a different task. Since the Royal Colonial Militia did not seem to be forcibly evacuating the villages, the Frenchmen would do it themselves, and not vulnerably and in trucks. No, the rebels had given up a chance for easy relocation. The shock troops would arrive swiftly by helicopter, usually right before dawn, in force and with helicopter support depending on the village or town size. Like Lome, the rustics would be marched out of their residences on foot now, making the trek to Louisbourg in escorted columns.

Resistance would not be wise against professional soldiers instead of weekend warriors, any intransigent or defiant individuals would be put to the lash. If it was clear the village was staunchly rebel, they were made to burn their huts themselves before making the guarded trek. Any guerilla attempts would be ludicrous against such marches, for obvious reasons. Indeed, the marches themselves were for basically humanitarian reasons. Often the escorting troops brought their attack dogs with them to secure any escapees from the march, and they got the natives moving quickly by nipping at their heels. Helicopters and attack companies from the first operation zipped about as the refugees began to move to Louisbourg from all over the central and southern plains of Cote d’Or.

The mountains, unfortunately, would have to wait. Fortunately, the hold outs there would be easy targets if they attempted a sortie. But the plains would be fine fine, more than fine. Especially with the guerilla units festering about behind the lines being wiped out wholesale, no one can argue Cote d’Or is congealing into a state.

Tema, Ghana

Le Marquis de Grammont, made commander of the Grande Armee in place of the resting Prince of the Blood, drove south with his heavy columns along the coastal road. In the same pattern as Cote d’Or, the French do not attempt to take the rugged mountain bases, but hold to the plains where their armor and air support will quickly destroy and attack launched against them.

De Grammont leaves a division of heavy RVL infantry to guard Tema, which he converts into his major supply depot for the operation into Ghana. Its residents, like those of Cote d’Or, were marched to Louisbourg. He had no intentions of having to report to the Most Christian King the advance had stalled due to rebel harassment of supply lines, and anti-guerilla operations were expanded to the Ghana plains.

While they entrench and set up the secure supply lines the commander would take his army south along the coastal plain. Moving south in massive force he would first secure Teshi, and then, swinging around Accra proper to cut it off entirely, his heavy forces would proceed along the same air and ship supported coastal road. The French would wait for Accra to surrender. They would make for Cape Coast, where le Marquis had it in mind to set up his headquarters for the maneuvers. The city, as well, would also provide a perfect point for the western and eastern French forces to make their crucial link up. French aircraft and helicopters combed the plains, searching for enemy guerillas and sorties from the mountains to attack. So, after the extremely sanguinary combat along the Volta, the French move forward cautiously. Sticking strictly to the flatlands, de Grammont has every hope of securing his lines.

Again, surprise enemy jets take a minor toll on the supply lines, but make only one pass before they are turned into streamlined anvils.

In the mean time ODSE bombing wings concentrated on the mountains. Intelligence could not provide exact locations, but the Lancasters began raining down UGC on the mountains at rough positions. The only exception was mountain towns such as Oda and Kade, which made visible and easy targets. Extreme amounts applied to one area began a firestorm, and soon the mountains of south-central Ghana began to burn. True, the action may not kill many enemy forces, but it certainly perked up the spirits of the French defenders to see walls of flame invade their enemy’s mountain hideaways. And certainly, the clouds of thick black smoke rising above Ghana would dampen the defenders spirits, or so the War Ministry hoped.

Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

The Swiss are totally taken aback. Again ECOWAS proves themselves like cockroaches. Just when you think you’ve got them, another nest springs to life. Tracer fire knocks a bakers dozen of the troops dead before the ground is reached. Horribly, in their body armor, the bullets break bones before sweeping up. The collapsing parachute is what would actually kill the Switzers.

It would come as no surprise to the wretched malcontents that the Swiss would hold back a bit from the well defended airport, securing their parameter. Voluminous fire came out of the airport as the roaches scattered in the darkness, scattering mines and obstructing the runways with their tomfoolery. Also no surprise to Papa Africa was that after such a heavy resistance even in the tentative stage, Royal Algerian Hueys’ whopped in from the north to support the Swiss. Rockets blasted down from the nearly obsolete helicopters (at least in French eyes) as gunners on the sides opened up on enemy positions below.

At about 2:00 a.m., when the helicopters arrived, the Swiss quietly began rolling grenades down the tarmac. Land mines began to go off. Like a boa constrictor they moved in slowly and surely, keenly aware to minimize the loss of their elite numbers, with the Hueys’ chopping above them and delivering a heavy fire against entrenched enemy positions. Doubtless some of the helicopters would become targets, but in reality they were cheaper than the Swiss.

ECOWAS is fighting hard, but the Swiss fight smart. The cautious seizure slowly rolls on though the airport, feet at a time.

Bobo-Dioulasso

With the city secured by the Czechs, the ODSE transports begin to bring in troops from the Royal Dauphin Corps company by company, along with supplies both landed and airdropped down.

They secure the town, and for now make to move to break out. Conversely, with the town secured, they feel safe from any ‘break ins’.

The most the planes can bring down in armored support are light skirmishing armored vehicles, along with armored jeeps and trucks. Even these, however, are brought in only at a trickle due to weight limitations. Even with that said, however, the very fact that France, thirty years before the whipping boy of Europe, could launch such an operation was itself Heroic.

Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

For the French paratroops, broken were doubtless the least of their worries in the descent, as no sane body armor in the world could hope to deflect the 7.62x54mm rounds fired from Burkinabe PKMs, much less 12.7mm and 14.5mm machine gun bullets, or the 23mm cannon shells shot from the airport's six medium AAA pieces. Bullet-proof vests prove largely incapable of stopping 7.62x39mm AKM rounds as well, negating any advantage that the Swiss might have counted on the area of protection while infringing on personal mobility. Needless to say, those Swiss paratroops who, in the night, fell into the airport itself, are long since departed.

The arrival of Algerian Hueys is hardly a surprise indeed. Noisy and lacking a whole lot of manouverability, the improvised attack helicopters had been heard some distance from their targets, and they are subjected to withering fire from Ouagadougou International's very much intact anti-aircraft defenses, the Finnish 23 Itk 95s especially, and all gun emplacements supported by night-vision equipment. Barely armored as they are, and vulnerable even to small-arms fire, as wars in Vietnam and El Salvador have attested, the Algerians stand to lose many of their craft. And that is not counting the numerous AAA guns and SAM teams outside the city, waiting for the helicopters' inevitable egress. The feebleness of the French air raid takes the Burkinabe defenders by surprise, though, who were expecting the more characteristic carpet-bombing raid by Roycelandian-built heavy bombers. Perhaps the French commander had realized that it wouldn't do to demolish the country's only large airfield.

It is an equally hard time gaining access to the airfield itself, with heavy machine guns and a smattering of mortars covering the approaches, and with several thousand regulars dug-in at various positions. Nobody, least of all the Burkinabe infantrymen, would be so incompetent as to leave the ends of the airfield uprotected by walls and uncovered by machine guns. So while the Swiss are likely able to run up to the outer concrete wall and toss grenades into the airport compound, it would take, quite literally, a superhuman arm to land a hand grenade close to the runway. Either that or a mad rush into open ground after breeching both a line of barbed wire and a concrete retaining wall, swept by machine gunners who would be only too happy to cause more French losses and to further damage the valuable runway.

To the airport's defenders, it matters little that they are about to be surrounded, if they haven't already. Their task, as disagreeable as it might be, is to hold their position for as long as possible, and to render Ouagadougou International unsuitable for use as a resupply base for French efforts. Themselves numbering some six thousand, and supported by another two thousand dispersed throughout the capital, there is confidence, and death at the hands of France's bloodthirsty soldiers of fortune is not altogether feared. It would not be, after all, for Blaise Compaore, but rather in order to spare their families and friends from the brutality shown to citizens of Benin and Togo. Burkinabe soldiers therefore stand at the ready, secure in the knowledge that, the longer the airport is held, the longer it will take for enemy armor to arrive and turn the tables entirely against independent Burkina Faso. Mabye the Swiss claim to be the best soldiers in the world, but when they come through, over, or under the retaining walls, they should expect to face men as determined as the Lavragerians at Hia'Itakchi. Frenchmen might have named the paradrop Operation Heroic, but the greater share of courage hardly rests within the French camp.

Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkina Faso

The Czechs might have secured the city, but two thousand Burkinabe soldiers plus perhaps twice as many irregulars wait in ambush positions outside, having scattered landmines on the roads. Among this force is a battery of D-30 howitzers, 122mm weapons capable of firing in any direction thanks to their rotating mounts. Heavily camoflauged and entrenched before the start of the airborne landing, in fact waiting for an attempt on the city, the howitzers are, in as discreet a manner as possible, readied for action. Some 11,000 meters from the airfield, itself on the outskirts of town, the four concealed guns are, hopefully, unnoticed by the Czechs as they are trained and loaded with 3OF56 HE-FRAG shells. The order to fire is given, and in an instant the French are delivered what might just be their first enemy bombardment of the war.

Their location compromised, the howitzer crews only expect to let-off another one or two salvos before they are found by enemy pieces, but in the event of a helicopter or low-level air attack they expect to claim at least a few of their assailants. The battery is, after all, guarded by two SA-14 teams.

Airlifted armor causes less of a problem for the Burkinabe defenders than the French might have expected. Bobo-Dioulasso's defenders sport a dozen ex-Swedish Pvpj-1110 recoilless rifles, able to penetrate at least 380mm of steel with the lowest-power round. Like the howitzers, these are deployed in heavy cover, almost always near roadways or gaps in the town's layout, places where armored cars are most likely to pass. The recoilless rifles, in effect infantry-portable light artillery pieces, are also highly useful for demolishing buildings or other structures that the Czech mercenaries might want to use for cover.

Outside Porto Novo, Benin

A few rioters had indeed made a march on the city, fixing to burn the very obvious French headquarters, but the vast bulk of them stay by their tents and shelters, not at all keen to have those temporary homes destroyed in the same fashion as were their residences in the city. French efforts at apprehending particularly vocal individuals, of which there are far, far more than a mere 172, are more often than not met with violence. Many secret agents are found in the morning beaten badly, often to death, a demonstration of the Beninese unwillingness to suffer traitors. With Fela Kuti blaring from crank-charged radios, so common in West Africa, many of Porto Novo's former citizens continue to deliver firey condemnations of France, and of Beninese traitors like Tomboke throughout the night and into the morning, many of them more than ready to be shot down at a moment's notice, and the French doubtless aware that efforts aimed at arresting them would only provoke even more extreme rioting. When morning comes, and when the Beninese find themselves presented with a sizable breakfast, the tables and their guards, if indeed any opted to stick around, are rushed and the food seized. Offers of clemency for those who cooperate fall on largely deaf ears, the city's citizens altogether unwilling to rebuild the capital into a fort for its destroyers and fully aware that the French can't, and won't, perform the labor themselves. Reports headed to Versailles might say differently, but Porto Novo's refugee population demands nothing short of freedom of movement and employment, fair pay, and control of their own affairs before a sizable portion will even consider moving a brick.

People also begin to take note of Tomboke's demeanor, and generally conclude that the French had chosen an idiot to run the country for them, a man by no means worthy of respect or obedience. They might not benefit from the greatest education system, but the Beninese are no idiots, and after their experience with democracy are none too willing to let-by a man with Benin's best interests so far from his mind.

Rural Benin

One thing might comfort the French in the capital, though; with Benin's rural population almost completely unwilling to be resettled on French terms, the camp's population will remain a fairly constant 220,000 until someone takes drastic action. With perhaps one day passing since Tomboke's announcement of forced resettlement, the French would be hard-pressed to collect a thousand cooperative Beninese, much less a hundred thousand violently opposed to the idea. The occupiers had indeed changed tactics, but not to anything that history hadn't taught the militiamen how to deal with. The large, slow-moving tractor trailors and vehicle escorts had been easy targets, and the collaborationist RCM men entirely unable to deal with the loyalist militia. With attack helicopters and French regulars about, most militiamen are less than eager to make a showing, preferring instead to melt into the terrain and wait for the French to head back to the capital, as is certainly their intent. The small size of militia units, usually no more than a dozen men and travelling very light at that, serves to further disrupt airborne efforts at tracking and destroying them.

Frenchmen arriving by helicopter usually face little resistance, most armed men having led their families into the forests where airborne detection and tracking would be difficult, if not outright impossible. Some villages are found deserted, particularly capable militiamen having led the occupants to temporary safety in a patch of vegetation. But most of those visited by the French are indeed occupied, and fall after a few minutes of desperate struggle on the part of the inhabitants. Heliborne troops can't, of course, visit all that many settlements in the first few days of the resettlement, and already put themselves at risk of ambush by travelling to the capital on foot. For this reason the northern villages are largely immune, terrain and necessities in the south conspiring to make it nearly impossible for France to relocate people living there, and giving them time to prepare a more effective response.

Lome, Togo

In the Togolese capital, relocation efforts are met with riots much greater in scope than those witnessed outside Porto Novo. Lome does, after all, house over three times as many citizens, whose army is still in the field and who don't exactly feel defeated by France. The streets of the still-intact capital are filled with over three hundred thousand protesters, who steadfastly refuse to budge in the face of the inferior French numbers. Waving Togolese flags and taunting the Frenchmen, they too aren't about to cooperate with those who would seek to impose on them a condition of slavery. The old Quinntonian spiritual, "Oh, Freedom," sung in fact by many of their countrymen a century earlier, is at times audible over the noise of the demonstration. "Before I'll be a slave," they sing in French, "I'll be sent down to my grave/and go home to my god/and be free." Troops of the 19th Division could fire into the crowd and scare the majority of the demonstrators into submission, but a very vocal, and by no means small, minority of Lome's citizens are quite ready to face Versailles' bullets before they work for their tormentors.

(OCC: I must apologize for the incomplete nature of this post, but it will give you something to work with for the time being. I hope to have all my West Africa responses finished tonight, however long that takes.

There is also this (http://z9.invisionfree.com/NS_Modern_World/index.php?showtopic=286) on the forums, detailing heavy ground equipment and aircraft holdings of the various ECOWAS nations as well as the respective service rifles. I left out most unguided equipment such as recoilless rifles and infantry mortars, except in such cases where such light weaponry constitutes the greatest extent of the available firepower. Liberia, until recently torn by civil war, is a prime example.)

((Well done. I must say, however, I think the crowds are being a bit vocal considering their situation, after all they are made of at least 12 different language groups. Their camp, unless they steadfastly refused to eat, has been secured, with no ability to resist the JOP, well they could resist, but I dont anyone really would with a german sheperd loudly barking in their face, I thought that was a key point.

Not trying to bitch though, again well done. Everything else is A-OK. And please take your time, savor it if you will. I have to do a navy response next, or Ill be lynched....so I will drop something down by Sun at the earliest for Africa again. And dont forget Mali, and especially Niger ;) ))

[Yes, Mubarrak's hordes are getting bored...XD ]

(OCC: It turns out that, in Lome at least, there would be predominately two languages spoken in addition to French. Not twelve, far from it in fact. But the Togolese are essentially cursing and insulting the French in whatever language they can speak and are refusing to leave the city. I'm sure you could force them out, as will happen when people with guns confront people without guns, but there's still the logistical difficulties of marching some 700,000 people, a great many of them children, the 150+ kilometers between the Togolese and the Beninese capitals, and then of preventing those 700,000 from rioting alongside Porto Novo's 200,000. It certainly wouldn't be organized overall, but would still be a concentration of very very many people angry at the same thing.

And yet again I return too late!)

((Ok, not accusing you of anything there. I cant help it, Ill have a response up before I go to bed, Ill have the navy one up tommorrow.))

Louisbourg, Cote d’Or

Let is never be said that His Most Christian Majesty was not a geyser of mercy.

Hearing of the plight of the poor benighted savages, King Louis-Auguste was moved to pity. So, he instructed Prince Leopold I to formulate a new plan.

The news came as a shock, they wouldn’t work. Even when confronted with vicious dogs, they wouldn’t work. The “Job Opportunity Program” was being compromised. Therefore, the French troops and their collaborators formed orderly lines of advance, and under full arms and to the beat of fife and drum they surrounded the camp. Bayonets were fixed. An announcement was made on the loudspeakers.

The indignant natives would be allowed their demands. They would be given freedom of employment, following the war, which the French announced would soon end. As long as they agreed to work, and undergo inspection at search points, they would be granted freedom of movement about the area, and promised total transit following the wars end. They would be given fair pay. A wage was set of $.75 Quinntonian Dollars a day…a huge amount for the impoverished Africans. In an unprecedented act of generosity, while the “Job Opportunity Program” was in gear they would be provided with free food and medical care. Payment would be given ¼ up front, in silver. The rest would be given in notes issued by Leopold. By issuing notes, Leopold insured that they would have a stake in the new lands future. As to control of their own affairs, they were given a magnificent option. Leopold, on Louis-Auguste’s command, would allow the camp, really the inhabitants of Louisbourg, to elect a Council of Elders to represent them to the Prince. They would be allowed to form a delegation of twenty, and the members would be sworn in and made the peers of His Highness Leopold I’s new Curia Regis. They would have the power, if their votes were unanimous, to challenge Leopold I on any issue in Cote d’Or, and present the matter for direct judgement under the Royal Courts in Paris.

In return, they would agree to the Job Opportunity Program and work.

They were given three hours to make their decision, all the while being reminded this is the best and only offer they would be given. If they refused after that, and continued rioting in protest, they were not rioting any longer, they were insurgents. As insurgents, they would be punished.

So if they refused, the troops would storm the camp, after firing volleys of rubber pellets into the crowds. Their tents would be torn down and burned, and the dogs would be put loose on them. The radios would be smashed, alongside what possessions they did have. In the end, they would be broken and put in shackles, compelled to work at a grueling pace. They would build trenches and clear rubble with a gun and a bayonet at their back, instead of being given all the generosities offered.

The choice was clear.

Lome, Cote d’Or

Seeing the natives riot in Lome too, General le Vicomte de Boze, commander of the 19th Division III Corps, ordered his men into lines of battle. As in Louisbourg, the bayonets were bugled fix, and the troops loaded their weapons with rubber bullets. The drums and fifes began to play.

Luckily for the protesting residents of Lome, however, they would be given a similar deal as the rioters in Cote d’Or’s capital had, and be given an equal amount of time to thank the French for it.

The same deal exactly, save they would work in Lome, after agreeing to dispatch a hundred thousand of their number to Louisbourg. They could freely elect twenty of their number as well, and vote them into the Curia Regis in Louisbourg. Their city would be fortified, but remain a city, and power and water would be restored.

As in Louisbourg, the choice was clear.

Rural Cote d’Or

The French and Leopold are very excited at the news that the columns are marching from their burning villages, heading south on their way home. They are also very heartened with the hunting of guerillas, which has both freed their supply lines from harassment and allowed them to put the plains dwelling rustics of Cote d’Or on a massive movement of joy to the shining capital.

The hunting would not stop, and His Most Christian Majesties men would go after and in all intensity attempt to kill every guerilla unit they found.

Ouagadougou

Oberst Karl Weber studied the enemy positions as they lit up, and brought down a tenth hapless Algerian Huey in a fiery wreck. Commander of the Swiss force, he had not anticipated so much as one quarter of the heavy fire he received in attempting to take the airport. They were dug in, had decent guns, and had killed with their bastard hands 37 of his precious boys, of whose professional number he had not expected any losses.

But the Swiss were good, and were prepared for such a intense defense, even after the helicopter support failed to dislodge the enemy from their positions at the airport. Oberst Weber knew time was of the essence as well. He had spent two hours mucking about in this bloody quagmire, and he, commander of one of the most elite units and France, had failed to take a backwater airport from a tin can militia.

The trumpet sounded “On gasmasks! Up rocket launchers!”

Nearly as one, the Swiss dropped and hurriedly from their packs produced their elaborate gas masks, and affixed them to their faces. Running forward with gasmasks on came men with hand held missile launchers.

In the missile launchers were specially concentrated canisters of Chlorine Gas. When the trumpet called launch, the Switzers begin to pelt enemy positions with the Chlorine. In the pitch black night huge yellow clouds of the gas began to rise above Ouagadougou’s airport. Enemy posts, busy firing on the Algerian helicopters, made obvious targets. But it was a saturation attack, and the entire airport was soon in the miasma of the fumes.

In all the Switzers deployed three waves of fifteen modified canisters against the airport. When the fumes became nice and thick, they would slowly begin their advance again, secure within the yellow gas deployed against their enemies.

The good news was the airport would be taken in tact, and the Swiss would even get some enemy war trophies to take back to France with them.

Headquarters of the 2nd Front Army, Akwapim-Togo Range, Ghana

Major General Desmond Yeji does have a few Indian-built, frequency-hopping radios at his headquarters, but between French jamming and the threat of interception, they are rarely used to transmit. France might, after all, have more formidable signals intelligence capabilities than the radios' designers in Hyderabad had imagined. Most communication, therefore, is handled through heliographs over short distances, or by couriers over long distances. The headquarters can still recieve, though, and it is not long before Brigadier Morrell's transmissions are picked-up.

"General, sir, the Australasian Brigadier is requesting orders. He says he still has tanks, along with as many as 250 motorized infantry."

Yeji is delighted by the news, and rightly so. Even a few modern tanks would go a very long way, to say nothing of sixty of them. Most of Ghana's twenty Pz 61s had been destroyed at the Volta, and even then after making hardly a dent in French ranks. Although they can't, he figures, be terribly heavy, since they were delivered by air, Brigadier Morrell seems to him like an experienced commander, one who knows how to use his vehicles. A perfect man, he decides, to run the last defense of the ruined capital. Not willing to wait for a courier to become available, Yeji turns on the radio.

"Attention Brigadier Morrell, proceed to Accra with all possible speed. You will take command of the city upon your arrival. Hold for as long as possible. Out."

A more eloquent, or indeed specific, message would have been nice, but Yeji cannot risk exposing his headquarters with a longer transmission, on the off chance that a French electronic warfare unit would start to monitor the frequency. But Morrell now has his marching orders, and his presence in Accra may very well serve to make it a harder target than the French had previously imagined. In the meantime, his troops stay in their positions, hidden from airborne observation and mostly immune to bombardment. The Lancasters can't, of course, carpet bomb the entire countryside, and more often than not they hit mostly empty jungle. They would have to get in closer in order to properly identify Ghanaian positions.

Accra, Ghana

One of Ghana's AB-212 helicopters, a twin-engined version of the ubiquitous UH-1 and one of the few pieces of ECOWAS equipment that could be called superior to that used by the French, lands at what remains of Kotoka International Airport. It is, not surprisingly, armed to the teeth, with 12.7mm machine guns mounted in the doors and rocket pods on small exterior pylons. But it is on a courier mission, not an attack sortie. The helicopter's pilot brings news to Accra's commander, a Lieutenant Colonel, of the imminent arrival of Brigadier Morrell and the change of command. A force of 3,000 is, after all, a bit more than the typical Ghanaian officer of that rank is trained to lead.

It also brings word that French armor had reached Tema after a quick drive from the Volta crossings, even though Accra's defenders could spot the advancing Leclercs from posts on the very outskirts of the capital. They only hope that Morrell arrives quickly with his reinforcements. One thing that the Ghanaians can count as an advantage, though, is the extremely restricted freedom of movement offered to tanks and armored vehicles in the debris-strewn city. Many barricades had been raised, with narrow openings booby-trapped with buried explosives or covered by recoilless rifle teams. Machine gun and AA cannon emplacements now made out of rubble stand to absorb much more damage, and Rk.62-armed infantrymen sit in camoflauged blockhouses, waiting for the French and Algerian troops to try and pick their way through the rubble. Small units are scattered throughout the city and cover every navigable roadway, but the largest concentration of troops is around the airport and along the Kwame Nkrumah highway. In order for the French to bring their vehicles through Accra at a respectable speed, they would most likely have to make use of that highway, wide and largely undamaged as it is.

Abidjan, Cote D'Ivoire

The independent Guinean regiments might have largely withdrawn to the northwest, and the Ghana-Senegal-Guinea Army Corps' seven thousand, plus another seven thousand Ivoirians, might still be nearer Yamoussoukro, but that still leaves some ten thousand Ivoirian regular troops, supported by AMX-13 tanks and 105mm howitzers. Guerrin's orders to take the city intact would, of course, make things a good deal easier for its defenders. Williamsville, Deaux-Plateaus, Attrecoubre, and Locodjro are defended by perhaps three hundred men in total, most of them engineers who had just recently built anti-vehicle barricades, and who will occasionally fire on advancing Frenchmen from a rooftop before running away. Adjame's small garrison is withdrawn, as are those in Cocody and Riviera. In fact, many Frenchmen might reach the shores of Ebrie Lagoon without taking hostile fire.

They might be surprised when, within minutes of each other, the two bridges connecting Boulet Island, in the center of the Lagoon, with the northern part of the city, are blown-up. It should now be clear that the lack of resistance so far was not due to a lack of defenders. The Ivoirians had simply withdrawn to the most defensible parts of the city; Boulet Island. Over eight thousand troops are there, with a battery of six M101 howitzers entrenched in Anoumabo and trained on the opposite bank. Another four guns are hidden in Marcory, positioned to fire directly into any attempt to cross the narrowest part of the lagoon. Most of the Ivoirian infantrymen are also deployed in Treichville, Marcory, and Anoumabo, with smaller, but still significant, units in position in Bietry and Koumassi. With recoilless rifles, machine guns, and Milans at the ready, the Ivoirians prepare to repulse crossing attempts, and a liberal smattering of 12.7mm, 14.5mm, and 35mm AA guns might serve to discourage a heliborne assault. For now, as the French prepare, they remain silent, their positions in total darkness and often obscured by camoflauge netting. The French smokescreen causes some consternation, but it is only a matter of minutes before the sea breezes blow the worst of it away.

To the south of Boulet Island, another two thousand Ivoirians, supported by ten AMX-13s and an equal number of Panhard M3 APCs, hold the bridgeheads at Vridi and Port-Bouet, while the airport, blocked by no fewer than five disabled airliners, is held by an airborne battalion, with orders to destroy the facilities in the event of a French attempt on their position. The Vridi Canal, the only way to enter the Ebrie Lagoon from the Atlantic, is covered by several Oerlikon 35mm KDA positions, which promise to make any attempt to cross there quite dangerous. In the canal itself, Ivoirian patrol boats had dropped a number of bottom mines, effectively closing it to any heavy landing craft that might be sent from the ships offshore. And the French are not expected to possess any serious minesweeping capability in the area, the threat in home waters being as it is.

Mopti Province, Mali

French troops headed for Mopti town find it largely undefended, save for a handful of militiamen waiting in ambush positions. The Malians are not, after all, keen to try and move heavy forces across open ground to go to the city's defense. Some Frenchmen might catch sight of a Romanian-built IAR-316 puttering around the southeastern end of the town, its crew acting in an observational capacity only and flying well outside the range of ground-based AA weapons, but besides that, there is little evidence of the Malian Army. Many Malian soldiers are further west, guarding the Niger river town of Koulikoro and of course the capital and largest city Bamako. Secure in their positions and aided by somewhat rough terrain, they do not intend to go to the French.

But to the southeast, positioned, as is ECOWAS's custom, in terrain difficult for armored vehicles, are some 11,000 Malian soldiers guarding the border with Burkina Faso and blocking the good roads headed there. They are supported by six TR-125 MBTs, Romanian copies of the erstwhile T-72, as well as a surprisingly well-stocked artillery contingent with 122mm D-30 howitzers and BM-21 MRLs. A squadron of L-39s, some four aircraft in total, provides limited air support and anti-helicopter capability, while another six IAR-316s serve as couriers and observation platforms. Like usual, this force waits for the French to meet it, with small Burkinabe units protecting the right flank and AML-90s ready to sound the alarm if any attempt is made to cross the terrain on the left. Hopefully, this presence will give Burkina Faso's armed forces and militia levvies enough time to sufficiently damage the French airborne forces and stall an expected push to the coast.

Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

Burkinabe troops are totally unprepared for the nature of the French attack, lacking anything in the way of protective equipment. An opponent can be devious, and an opponent can be dastardly; France is clearly the latter. Five of the six 23mm AA emplacements take direct rocket hits, and if the impact doesn't kill the gunners, the chlorine gas does. They had, though, racked up a respectable score in the night and had not perished without contributing to their nation's defense. Heavy MG emplacements also take heavy losses, but with the French using hand-held gas launchers, many of the 12.7mm and 14.5mm weapons are within range, and pour fire in the vicinity of the rocket flashes. Their gunners, after all, are now sure of death, and want to take as many invaders with them as possible. The fact that the French use shoulder-fired weapons to deploy their gas makes things a good deal less worse than they might have otherwise been. Many positions are indeed hit, and many Burkinabe soldiers are killed. The troops' first instinct is to abandon their positions and retreat, but, being surrounded, their officers quickly make it clear that the choice is either certain death outside the airport wall or a continued defense of that extremely important piece of infrastructure. The size and open-ness of Ouagadougou International prevents the relatively small quantities of Chlorine Gas from building heavy concentrations quickly, so there is still time for men to equip themselves with urine-soaked handkerchifs as a countermeasure, in the same fashion as did the Canadians at 2nd Ypres. And if the light wind, already enough to spare some areas of the airport from the worst effects of the gas, picks up, enough Burkinabe troops might survive to continue a troubling defense.

Unfortunately for the Burkinabe troops, the gas had more or less destroyed an entire section of machine guns and trenches, leaving that part of the retaining wall exposed and paving the way for the French, now largely rid of the heavy machine gun emplacements with their carefully-laid arcs of fire, to breech the retaining wall. They will still face stiff resistance from the survivors, armed as they are with no few PKM light machine guns and RPG-7s, but likely nothing that the numerically superior, and better-equipped, mercenaries couldn't overcome given enough time. Still, the Burkinabe troops intend to fight to the last, and have the heavily-built control tower to fall back into as their last redoubt. They are not going to let the vital airfield fall without making as much of a mess as possible.

With the gas attack signalling the start of the final French push, Burkinabe aircraft technicians and army engineers rush to disable as much of the airport infrastructure as possible. Aircraft tractors are either burned or laid-into with sledgehammers, rendering them useless to the vehicle-less mercenaries, while the hangars are set for demolition with light bombs and folding-fin rockets, now never to be used by Burkina Faso's four SF.260s. The French would have a tough time moving the blockplanes anyway, being without the heavy vehicles that could tow the tire-deprived hulks with their ruined engines from the runway, and they would have to clear the area of mines beforehand.

Niger

Of all the nations of ECOWAS, Nigeria had, by far, picked the easiest target. The recent famine had claimed tens of thousands of lives, and consistently poor harvests leave many hundreds of thousands without work and with insufficient food. Attempts had been made by the rest of ECOWAS to fix this, but with the others only barely able to feed themselves, and with Tandja Mamadou barely willing to acknowledge the crisis until it had already hit, not much progress had been made. Poor, sandwitched between Algerian and Nigerian advances, climatically disadvantaged, and badly-governed, Niger does not present much of a target for the Nigerian army. While some -quite rightly- doubt that anything 60,000 strong and coming out of Nigeria could be, in the global sense of the word, elite, the Black Mambas (another confusing term for Nigeriens, who aren't familiar with the Cape snake) alone outnumber the regular army nearly six to one, and the regular army plus militia levvies two to one, not counting the Nigerian regulars. Nowhere is the contest more one-sided. AA guns do see plenty of action, though. The MiG-23 has never been known as an unmanageable aircraft, and the use of them in the ground attack role might see perhaps the only Nigerien victories of the war as Zu-23s and Romanian-made CA 95 MANPADs engage the relatively unmanouverable interceptors.

Resistance is simply overwhelmed in all sectors, Niger's small army being out and out swamped. Fighting does indeed take place, and some Nigerien Army units mount careful ambushes of armored vehicles with recoilless rifles, but this is the exception. Most Nigeriens are just glad that they aren't about to be made to do forced labor by the French, and that these men, from their own continent, at least, have a passing regard for their welfare. That is not to say Nigeriens endorse Nigerian rule; far from it. They hadn't had much democracy, but they had fought and fought for self-rule and Tandja Mamadou does not seem ready to give it in a proper measure. Nigeriens certainly aren't happy about losing all hope for a proper functioning democratic system in the near future. And one thing is for certain: as much as Ghosni Mubarrak styles himself as a man of Africa, he still plays lackey to the Europeans who would use his countrymen as slaves. Mubarrak will have to bring some good deals with him in order to secure the accession of most Nigeriens, although he has already put a lid on militia activity by not being overtly interested in oppression.

Nigerian songs about "Papa Africa" don't much interest the Nigeriens, who could never exactly establish relations with the United African Republics, and who, due to geography, could never give much assistance. There are no ill feelings for Nigeria to expolit between the two states. The more literate Nigeriens will gladly point out that, while the new occupiers might say otherwise, Papa Africa (Derek Igomo) is sitting very much in power over a strong, and, quite importantly, free, African state which could, if given the chance, make Mubarrak wish he hadn't ever become Russia's strongman in the region. Far, of course, from being faded away, Igomo is in charge of a state that is now, arguably, stronger than ever. But all that has little relevance, so long as the Central African Republic and Chad exist as independent nations.

Outside Porto Novo, Benin

Most rioters are, to say the least, stunned at the concessions being offered them by Versailles. They had expected to be dealt with in a manner more typical of the intolerant and violent French, and the offers of both less-restricted payment and a minimum wage come as pleasant surprises. It is, though, the responsibility of every army to provide food and medical care to a population under their charge, and the fact that France is for once meeting requirements in this area is not so much thought of as an encouraging sign. Some are still suspicious, however, and, understandably, demand that France offer something in the way of proof. They are, after all, not eager to be tricked by the characteristically scheming French royals. A few of Porto Novo's former residents continue to resist the measures, but even they grudgingly agree that, in the short term at least, the riot had appeared surpass all expectations. So bonfires are doused, clubs and shivs discarded, and a delegation quickly assembled from better-respected civil servants and municipal administrators. Their answer will probably be yes to the French, after being shown a sign of Versailles' good faith.

And they would only have to wait a little longer, perhaps a week, perhaps a month, before French efforts would be met with a military threat more serious than ECOMOG.

Lome, Togo

French overtures are not greeted with the same entheusiasm in the Togolese capital, where rioters are greatly more numerous and largely refuse to aid the enemy while their army is still in the field. But the offer is surprising in its concessions and encourages the rioters. They had, it appears, managed to force their would-be masters to change policy. And it would not suit anybody for a massacre to occur in Lome. A small negotiating team, selected like in Porto Novo from respected civil servants and community figures, conveys to the French commander that they will not stop rioting until the French agree not to deport any of Lome's citizens for at least two months, in order for the deportees, first to be selected on a volunteer basis and then by luck of the draw, to make the necessary arrangements for the well-being of personal property and family. Negotiators also refuse to provide for the resettlement of women or children to the work camps.

Is there an OOC thread for this engagement?

WWJD
Amen.

[OOC: Not to be a bother, but are you RPing Niger, LRR?]

-A breather -for myself as much as the rest of us- between more taxing engagements-

Al Jumahiriyah al Arabiyah al Libiyah ash Shabiyah al Ishtirakiya al Uzma
The Great Socialist People's Libyan Arab Jamahiriya

Whatever a citizen of the somewhat tired state -though it was a nation rarely boring to the outsider- felt about his or her daily life in contrast to the sort lived by neighbours in the east, one could not deny that, in the early C21st, it was better to be Libyan than to be from the south or west.

Algeria, annexed, fought to subjugate luckless neighbours to the daintily made-up hand of its alien master, and Niger, friendless, faced similar enslavement by Algeria's like counterpart, Nigeria. Today, Libyans had only to grumble about the difficulty of the training associated with their national service since Indian Soviet investment became the economy's most important, some years ago. The size of the People's Guard -not to mention of the People's Militia Reserve, the Navy, the Air Defence Command, and the Air Force- was such that it could be sustained only by petrochemical revenues that were beyond all reasonable proportion for a society of such little population and by the ease with which Colonel Muammar Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi could ignore his debtor's obligations to the generous people of the Indian Soviet Commonwealth.

Those very people and petrochemicals had conspired to furnish the Armed Peoples on Duty with the wares -and the wherewithall- to put-on such displays as the blasé conscript performed with a formative hint of nervousness, for the inward reassurance of the ordinary citizen who told herself that she was only watching because the Colonel quite firmly encouraged it.

With the militia activated, perhaps one in fifty Libyans found him or her self in uniform, the recruit compelled by his or her own sentiment to defend self, beloved, and home, but, increasingly, also faith, race, socialism, and Jamahiriya.

Wealth had been expanding and, forced for so long by his failure to even nearly rival Elias as champion of the Arab world or to compete with the House of Osman and the new Depkazi Khagan as Islam's top statesman, Qadhafi's association with the Soviets, troubled though it had been, made sure of its better employment -from a popular perspective- than might previously have been the case. If the Libyan people weren't exactly the most free on earth, they were at least witness to steady improvement in their living conditions and not much moved to envy the liberty of neighbours toiling under their own dictatorships, this one secular, that one Catholic.

The Colonel, meanwhile, now found himself back in his favourite condition: that of international notariaty. Since the regrowth of the Islamic faith around the world finally manifest itself in Central Asian coup and international diplomacy, influential people and movements in the Muslim world had been of serious interest to a Soviet Commune that feared future instabiltiy in the domain of its favourite neighbour. Any infusion of socialism to Islamic doctrine was to be encouraged. As was any good excuse to like the regime to which the Commonwealth had exported so much military hardware before Baghdad finally requested a cap on such business (and got it without trouble, in another little-publicised example of Soviet diplomacy and co-operation)!

Qadhafi reveled in the attention and acclaim of Soviet Consuls sent with television crews to Tripoli, and enjoyed the facts of his relative security when compared to the vulnerability of a post-Marxist SWAPO or an uncooperative Bihar, playing ego-boosting games for so long as he dared, often facing Soviet diplomats selected primarily because of their reputation for restraint with the fist and the blade. He was also happy to be sustaining what the Soviets had given, even now that the trade flowing between his ports and those of the sub-continent excluded much of the military flavour of earlier days, as he found the southern parts of both Africa and Europe delightfully able on top of their usual willingness, and his high-technology arsenal continued to make all the right sounds.

When pressed, Muammar agreed that the Catholic menace was indeed a great concern, and the Russo-Nigerian empire a dangerous farce, always talking of his thirty-two thousand Algerian square kilometres, and his twenty-five thousand in Niger when these matters came-up, which they did with predictable frequency. But, what could he do? If he went on a great mission of liberation, preaching socialism, he would appeal only to the most hard-core of nationalists and the insignificant pool of self-aware socialists in the subjugated lands around him. Obviously, he'd have to make-holy any such struggle...

Yes, yes, all right, Soviet credit would hold true under the crescent as under the sickle! If only the Colonel would stop toying with the West African diplomats huddled at his door and shine down upon them the invaluable help of a pious Arab socialist liberator.

Free Frenchmen, Italians, and the others all walked the sunny streets, wondering at this reversal of civilisations and largely ignorant of the struggling of the Soviet Consuls or the cap-handed waiting of the West Africans, both finally to be addressed as over humbled foreign heads flew Golkonda fighters, Springer strikers, and Marathon transports displaying ever more proudly the green roundel of the Libyan Air Force. And, shaking the foundations of international relations to the Jamahiriya, countless battle tanks and fighting vehicles, heavy guns and long-range rockets rolled along with the gradually more heavy fall of daily better-polished boots in the infantry. Everything protected by what could be taken for all the air-defence guns and missiles left to the world after the Drapoel took their infamous fill. Libya's parades ran on growing national confidence mixed with more oil than the Niger Delta and supercharged by a heady blend of social progress and unshackled religious fervour.

Easily enough one could forget that Air Force ground crews, when working with the displaying pilots, had to understand their Arabic, English, or Italian through heavy Indian and Balkan accents.

((Not to be a pest, but could I get an answer on the riots thing before I return your post tommorrow? Oh, and of course communists in Libya are now terrifying. Oh, hey, LRR, one question, had to ask. Will you be doing a history of this war for AMW in Wikipedia? I mean, I think we can agree now that this is WWIII. I think it would be fascinating. Hey, almost, in a way, could you not say this is the culmination of AMW thus far? Oh, and BTW, I thought I made sure I posted that I was bypassing Accra, not invading the city proper, for the purpose of cutting it off from escape or reinforcement. I am not fighting through the city block by block, but cutting for Cape Coast while relying that for the time being my air power is more than capable of spotting and smashing any sortie.))

OOC: I suppose I have my orders, though.

Accra, Ghana

When Morrell arrived in the city at the head of his small column, he found himself surprised at the state of things. After all, the place had been firebombed repeatedly and partially vacated of civilian residents. He had expected fire-blackened hulks, dead bodies and a few listless and shell-shocked Ghanan soldiers standing guard.

What he found wasn't exactly all that. The city had been decimated, it was true. Buildings were smashed, roofless and burned-out shells. There was wreckage in the streets. But the bodies were largely gone, and the soldiers in residence were calm, armed with AKMs that had a dull sheen which bespoke regular care, and the commander was a dapper, affable man in a Colonel's uniform.

"Welcome to Accra, Brigadier," the younger man said as Morrell climbed stiffly out of the hatch. "It's nice to see you." The Australasian man nodded, running a practised eye over the Ghanan regulars standing to attention in the main square. It wasn't the full force, of which he was glad. No reason to have all three thousand men there to salute him when they could man the walls, watch the horizon.

"Thank you, Colonel," he replied. "The journey was ... refreshing." And it had been, if you could call spreading out his little force and sneaking past the sporadic French searches of the countryside 'refreshing'. Perhaps more to the tune of 'terrifying?' At least his tankers were men of whom he could be proud; men who had learned their trade well and made their mark with the occasional ambush of French patrols before vanishing back into the hills.

The Colonel briefed Morrell on the subject of the city's defensive capabilities, the morale of the troops, the feeling of the people. He showed Morrell around the city, to the command post set up in Fort James.

Morrell had come to Africa to fight the French, and he had. He had been a minor thorn in their side for weeks; his attacks never warranting a real response. But now he was going to command the defense of a city that had been largely bypassed by the French. It was well placed, the nexus of several highways. The old forts were still intact, if damaged, and by blowing the bridges he could hold the centre for a long time. And the manufacturing district was slowly coming back to life, turning out bullets and other, very minor supplies.

His job was to turn Accra into Stalingrad, but for that he needed to provoke an attack. As the sun set on his first day in command, Morrell sat down to plan his defense, and more importantly, to plan how to get the French to bring him their army.

Mons, Tulgary

"Come on! By the blue blood! Why don't they move? Eh! Eh! You there, idiot! Move your wagon!"

M.Lecl was this close to bursting a blood vessel as he stretched from the dirty window of his truck, having wound it half way down only for it to jam. He was yelling, much to his later regret, at the rear of what would turn out to be a military column. When he threw an onion at the figure emerging from the lorry pulled-up in front of him, old Lecl crossed a line, and was promtly arrested, his shambolic old motor requisitioned by the Grand Duchy and used to carry four soldiers across the French border.

They, along with a good number of their peers, were arriving almost concurrent with a communiqué delivered by hand to Versailles, in which Archiduc Basilius would offer, "above fourteen-thousand stout men" to, "the West African Crusade".

Tulgary had no direct access to that theatre, and its small but potentially proficient navy remained bottled-up in Oostende, Zeebrugge, and Amsterdam, afraid to put to sea in waters watched by the Royal Navy and RAF, and certainly unwilling to brave the Channel, which the Admiralty convinced itself, and the Archduke, must be a thick minefield patrolled by submarines and over-flown by Nimrod and Typhoon enough to darken it. The Tulgarian fleet would simply protect northern European shores against hostile landings, thought Luxembourg, and perhaps deploy its assault ships in the undesirable event of war with Germany. With that in mind, the Grand Duchy could do nothing without the help of its allies.

It was known, informally, as Leger Afrika, and comprised of 14,500 Tulgarians raised from an imperial triangle stretched between Dudelange, which rolled steel to armour French military vehicles; Delfzijl, which produced 150-thousand tonnes of aluminium in the past twelve months leading up to Luxembourg's decision to enter what was now a world war; and De Panne, which... built a land-yatch shaped-after the original design of 108 years earlier in celebration of the Archduke's 104th birthday. It was an army hoping to ride the rails to the southern ports of France or Spain, and deploy in friendly ships to the African frontier, to a continent abandoned in 1960 after, according to the Archduke, the merchant classes ruined his empire by managing it for gold before God.

The armament of the Leger Afrika was not really sufficient to convince anyone that it was a force able to stop the likes of the Soviets or the Anglophone powers, but perhaps the Africans? It was comprised of individuals from various backgrounds in military terms but, in ninety-percent of cases, from the labouring classes: the sons of merchants almost uniformly escaped the pretty limited draft, and the Chamber of Deputies was unwilling to pursue the matter for fear of causing serious unrest. This at least meant that the average Tulgarian soldier was familiar with hard work in the midday sun and the winter rain. They made good soldiers in peacetime, anyway, drilling hard, marching harder, and sticking to the rules while on duty, even if they were a little prone to rowdiness when out of uniform. Their worth in battle was utterly unproven.

Amongst the ranks were many a unit of the Constabulary, Tulgary's gendarmerie, possibly included in reference to a hope that a large part of the Leger Afrika would take-up duties behind the front lines, maintaining order while more capable forces pushed the front.

Tanks -Leopard 1 and AMX-30-, and AIFV APCs took to railcars in Mons and across Tulgary, DAF trucks hauled men across the border, and Basilius tried to claw-back some significant status for his already middle-aged son -Prince Héritier Kiraly Papan- to inherit.

OOC: In response to Spizania's question of earlier; the fighters are accompanied by a pair of refuelling craft, who will fill them up at roughly the half-way mark before returning to base. They will meet them again as they come back... I thought I made that clear, but when I looked I hadn't. Sorry 'bout that.

((BG! What has become of you there fellow? I never in my wildest dreams imagined such vigor, and noblesse-oblige! Have I, dare I say it, perhaps brought you over to the 'sparkling' side? After all, phalansteries are good, but mirrored and gold ceiling halls offer such much more room, for...hmmmm, enlightenment? As on the seas, I am just claiming a stake to respond, but I want to post on the battle at sea first so I will have something up here today or tomm. Au revoir amis!))

OOC: Are the tankers returning to base after the refueling stops, or are they accompanieing the force all the way to the launch points and back again?

IC:

The inbound cruise missiles were detected as intermittent blips allmost as soon as they had been dropped from the aircraft, detected by the patroling Phalcon Aerial Radar aircraft, one of the RMAF's two examples of such an aircraft. At about one hundred kilometres it began to appear on the surface to air missile radars of scattered Aster launching batteries. Shouts of "Vampire Vampire, 90 Marks inbound targets North Area" abounded on the comms channels as multiple batteries detected the missiles, assisted by the Radars of the Super Mirage escorts of the Phalcon and slightly by both the Chapperal SAM radars and air traffic control systems as Rabat and Tangiers AFBs.
The missiles were approaching the new french posistions being set up in the straits of Gibraltar area, straight into the largest concentration of Moroccan Aster 30 Missile systems, that was where they were being unloaded ofcourse.
Dozens of missile trails slashed into the sky, missiles riding on trails of flame and smoke to there rendevous with the targets some 90km from the missile bases, dozens of large explosions appeared over the atlantic, providing a spectacular lights show for a crew of fishermen. 22 Missiles escaped that first volley, hugging the ground as they rushed towards there targets.

Next came the RMAF, 4 Super Mirages, seperated from the group of 12 guarding the Phalcon, came at the missile groupings from behing, all of them loosing there 4 Python-5 IR guided missiles, each roared down, doing what most other air to air missiles could not, picking out the trail of the cruise missiles and homing in. Another 18 fell to the barage, leaving the last 4 to reach there targets.

They homed in on missile storage areas, smashing into them and leveling them and the surrounding launchers in balls of flame, luckily most of the bases werent to be equipped with missiles for another 6 hours, and so escaped massive damage to the rest of the facilities. [This is really NGs area, so he can give a fuller account of the damage]

Tangiers Air Force Base(Semi-SIC)
Racks of Meteor AAMs and Taurus Air Launched Cruise missiles were being moved to the ammunition dumps around the perimetre of the air force base by hundreds of Moroccan Air Force personel, these were the first major shipment of arms that would come from the Sultunates new ally, Germany. Even more personell were busily wheeling the RMAFs 60 newly arrived german and spanish aircraft under cover. 12 Eurofighter Typhoons from Spain, acquired from emergeancy stock for one particular mission, the annihalation of the next bombing raid. The others were all from Germany, 36 Inderdiction Strike variant Tornadoes, and twelve SEAD (ECR) Variants, these were being assigned to strike wings in preparation for the new offensive against the Polisario.
Over 100 personel had been killed in the bombing raid, now the Australasian bastards would pay the price.

EDIT:-
The Berm, near Techla
It was 0130 hours, and a single mortar round was fired into the starlight night sky, it was a flare round and lit up the sky like the moon would have had it been present to witness the end of an era. At this signal the armoured columns began to move out, a column of light vehicles with scattered tanks, two lanes wide gathered behind four tanks, two rows of two, all equipped with anti-mine plows began to drive through the forward defensives posistions and out into the wilderness, occasionally a mine would explode infront of the plow, its sharp report in contrast to the grumbling of engines. At Bir Gandouz and Guerguerat other armoured columns were all following the same routine. Pushing south for there objectives, either at the Mauretanian border or for the town of La Guera

OOC: They've turned back, and are loitering near the base, protected by the Templar squadron. The fighters and Vulcans will be nearly out of fuel when they reach that point, but they'll meet up with the tankers. The Vulcans have a 3,200 km range, so they don't need to worry and'll continue on home.

His teeth were bared in a vicious grin; finally a challenge! Sweat dripped down his brow, mixing with the blood trickling down his chin, as he leapt forward into the fray of combat. Although a general should rejoice in an easy victory, the lack of major resistance had been a bit of a secret disappointment for Kuwabara. The massive man had made his military debut rallying a brigade and pulling them out from the jaws of defeat in the Battle of Port Harcourt, and had fought his way up the ladder. This was his first engagement as Supreme Commander, however, and he was eager to test his mettle. Wiping out outgunned and unenthusiastic Nigeriens wasn’t exactly what he had been hoping for. He had spent the initial phase of the invasion by pacing around, quite bored, and hoping, nay, praying for a worthy battle.

God must have been smiling upon him that day, or frowning depending on your view, for his prayers were answered by a band of Nigerien soldiers. They had concealed themselves in the dark jungle and waited as the long Nigerian column rolled along, until Kuwabara’s well armored Abrams had rolled along. Someone in the Nigerian force must have tipped them off, for they knew precisely which vehicle was Kuwabara’s. A recoilless rifle had struck right underneath his Abrams, hurtling it aside and forcing the general to abandon it. He’d been battered by the impact, and his men tried to pull away him away from the fray, but he would have none of it. Upon his face was plastered a mad grin, in his hands, laid a rifle. The message was quite clear: he would fight.

Clutching the assault rifle, he clambered on top of his tank and unleashed a spray of gunfire at the row of Nigeriens below. Three crumpled to the ground before anyone could respond, and once they returned a barrage the general was long gone. His massive bulk had tumbled backwards, as he performed an eerily graceful backward flip. Wasting no time, he sprung up as bullets hurled up geysers of dirt below him, and pumped lead into the chest of their source. An lean, bony old man with a wild beard and fierce eyes used this moment to charge him with a wicked looking machete. The old warrior swiped viciously, and Kuwabara lost a few hairs as he ducked. A fury of swipes, thrusts, and slashes emanated from the bearded fellow, at a rate so fast that the general wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes. The walrus mustached general could barely keep up as he weaved in and out of the steel blade’s path. It took every effort to simply survive the inhumanly fast onslaught; an offensive was clearly out of the question. And yet…he couldn’t keep this up forever, and the machete wielding bastard was fueled by a mix of amphetamines and suicidal rage, a quite potent combination. Sooner or later, Kuwabara’s strength would leave him; he would duck just a little too slowly, react just a little too late, dodge just a tad too far, and the cold steel would be upon him.

Unless…unless he was clever.

He began to move back more rapidly, his panting growing ever more heavy. Seeing his foe seemingly at strength’s faltering edge, the wild man pressed on with a renewed vigor. His fanaticism would be his downfall, however, for he failed to take note of where the general was leading him. Kuwabara suddenly stopped, and the warrior took it as a sign of exhaustion. With a mighty howl in some obscure tribal tongue, he reared his blade up, and then brought it down with tremendous strength. Kuwabara dropped down, in what seemed to be a desperate ploy to extend his life, if only for a few moments.

It was not the general who lay at life’s edge anymore, however; the old man would soon greet his Maker, for Kuwabara had dropped down directly in front of the barrel of his incapacitated, but still deadly, tank. The wild one quickly became aware of his predicament, and accelerated the blade’s descent, hoping to take the general with him. Kuwabara’s hands slammed the remote in his pocket, and the thundering roar of the shot sent several hundred pounds of steel through the wizened creature’s skull.

The general was stunned by the sound and impact of a tank round being fired at point blank, but he was still far better off than his former foe, whose head had been blasted to oblivion. Kuwabara tried to rise, firing off a few shots at the routed and fleeing Nigeriens, but the shock proved too much even for this hardened veteran. His mind faded off into black as his body crumpled to the ground.

An odd rumor would swirl about Nigeria’s barracks after that day; stories were told that as the venerable general fell, his face bore a mad grin, and even more flamboyant stories told of a deep, echoing belly laughter that could be heard to proclaim victory throughout the battlefield.
_________________________________________________________________

That one capable ambush notwithstanding, the campaign had so far gone quite well. Operation: Canaan, as it had been called, had toppled the key military strongholds, if they could even be called that, in Tahoua, Zinder, N'Guigmi, and N'Gourti. The Black Mambas pressed forward, as army regulars poured out behind them to take on the task of capturing the array of smaller towns the Mambas had passed by in their lightning strike, and absorbing the cities the Mambas had vanquished. The Mambas themselves split off into two major groups; ten thousand forces would push towards the more sparsely populated north, while a larger force of thirty thousands would cut towards the capital. Ten thousand of these soldiers would assault the city itself, while ten thousand each would march as fast as possible to relieve the French in Bobo-Dioulisso and Ouagadou.

A Nigerien war would not be in any way successful if the hearts and minds of the people didn’t fall under the sway of the Son of Africa, however. Hence Operation: Canaan was followed immediately by Operation: Breadbasket. The brainchild of Mubarrak himself, the program relied heavily on the private-public sector cooperation that had made Nigeria itself a burgeoning success. Nigerian regulars moved as quickly as possible to pump free food to those on the brink of starvation, hoping to stem the bleeding caused by the massive famine. Direct food grants were not a long term solution, however; they were only provided to save people from starvation. As for the long term, the military itself would sell Nigerian foodstuffs at low rates; the catch was that they only accepted Rubles. And the only way to get Rubles was to cooperate.

Nigerian businesses, given generous tax breaks by the Nigerian government and used to operating in a war zone, set up shop almost immediately after areas were secured, and began hiring Nigeriens for Nigerian level wages, which to an outside observer might have been a scanty difference but for the regular citizen of Niger was quite generous. Nigerian agricultural corporations, such as Cayley Foods and Elise Organics, began trying to form partnerships with local farmers, promising them more advanced technology and more efficient means of production. Unlike their French counterparts, however, the Nigerians did not force anyone to work (although they did use the military to enforce contracts). It was a strategy that evoked too many dark memories of slavery (which was actually disturbingly common in Niger), and didn’t suit the capitalist tastes of Mubarrak anyhow. Instead, Nigeriens were absolutely free to attempt to eke out their old, subsistence existence, which would become even more difficult than before as economies began to shift to Rubles. But the option of finally pulling themselves and their country out of an economic cesspool was hoped by Mubarrak to be more attractive.

"I wonder if the Roiks still call this Cydamus..."

Ghadamis, Western Libya

Rolling by the Sidi Badri Mosque, Libyan soldiers could not help but notice the ruined columns of a Byzantine church. Reminders of what had fallen, or an omen of victory against what was about to fall again?

The Libyans, after much cajoling in which the INU and ISC promised to replace the Jamahiriya's most valuable military assets as and when they were lost, and the UAR also swore support, were going to war. After the invasion of Algeria, and bearing in mind the fact that Italy, Libya's former colonial master, was a founding member in the Holy League, and that here was an Islamo-Socialist state on the frontier of feudal-Christian empire, Tripol felt that its situation was very much do or die. If the nation did not do, it would lose Indian support and be left to fend for itself when the League came knocking. Besides, Col. Muammar Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi had a chance for glory, at last. He could be a socialist and a Muslim and a liberator and who knew what else, all at once.

Whether or not the ordinary Libyan conscript marched with all of his enthusiasm was, of course, another matter. Still, on they went, reassured by Indian assurances that the Algerians had deployed most of their army into the ECOWAS nations, leaving the nation relatively exposed, and full of potential dissenting Arabs, Africans, Muslims, Republicans... all sorts of people with whom a Libyan could get-along quite nicely.

The People's Guard began a lightning drive up towards Hassi Messaoud and everything beyond. Flags flew... green, for Africa and for Islam. Men chanted, "Long live the revolution! Victory to Arab socialism!" here, and, "Allahu Akbar!" there... the most enthused units had, of course, been placed in the vanguard, giving a quite different impression to the so-so shrugs of the disinterested mass behind.

Franco-Algerian positions close to the border were hammered with artillery fire as the advance began. Italian-built Palmaria 155mm self-propelled guns were now turned against the League, joined by Indian-Soviet TG-4 152mm howitzers and Russian-Soviet M46 130mm pieces. USSR-built M-51 130mm multi-launch rocket systems, 240mm mortars, and Indian-Soviet 105mm Indian-Field-Guns joined in, along with 120mm and 84mm mortars and TG-5 100mm anti-tank/field guns. Libya had a quite ridiculous 760 heavy howitzers, 180 other field-guns, 450 mortars, and 600 MLRS, enough to arm the military of a major western European nation, and staffed only at an insane stretch of the Libyan populace... and something more.

Storming across the border with these modern self-propelled guns, ahead of the static weapons across the border (of course not all of Libya's field-guns and mortars were on this sretch of border! But most of its SPGs did cross) was a huge armoured force. Sveral dozen Indian-Soviet MT-2 Cobra battle tanks, roughly equivalent to Russia's T-80, went with reactive armour, aerosol-screens, and guided missiles. With them, a regiment of T-72 and MT-1 (Indian-Soviet T-72 equivalent) and another of T-56(L) (a Lusakan upgrade of T-55 with a British 105mm L7 gun, Indian laser range-finder, and locally-adapted Russian-Soviet active countermeasure system called Lozod).

Perhaps four hundred other armoured vehicles were involved. Some were BRDM-2 amphibious scout cars, but most were CICV-1 infantry-combat-vehicles from the Indian Soviet Commonwealth and roughly equivalent to BMP-2, supported by BTR-50 and 60 and OT-62B armoured personnel carriers from the USSR, CSSR, and UAR, mechanising over four thousand infantrymen from professional formations.

Behind, hundreds of trucks carrying thousands more infantry, and still more thousands on foot. Amongst all of it, men carrying Igla SA-16 shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles and vehicles including ZSU-23-4 self-propelled-anti-aircraft-artillery. Also there were Crotale surface-to-air missiles... Republican French inventions, retuned and deployed against monarchist France, and LS-8 AFRISAM batteries, four of them, able to reach up miles into the sky.

Some men thought that they saw something fly silently over head, far above. In fact, Scud-B and FROG-7 surface-to-surface missiles were hammering the French and collaborationist Algerians. Some of the rockets ranged up to three-hundred kilometres into Algeria, raining high explosives down on military positions, more or less.

The rockets were followed by Libya's pride. Truth be told, the Libyan air force had no cause to be afraid of any on earth... except those of the Indian Soviet Commonwealth and the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. "Why?" you ask? Well, because the huge, reasonably modern force was crewed in no small part by Indian and Yugoslavian pilots.

A squadron -twelve-strong- of the Soviets' most enduring and well-proven weapon of war -the Springer fighter-bomber- appeared to rain death with precision, launching anti-radiation missiles against Algerian radar stations in the east, before loosing cluster-bombs on forward-deployed army units. Again French-built, Mirage F1 and Mirage 5 fighters flew cover, along with NT-6-II-E Golkonda light fighters. Arabic, Serbo-Croatian, Italian, English, Geletian, Hindi, and Bulgarian chatter filled the airwaves as huge Soviet-built ground bases organised the air assault. More than forty MiG-23 Flogger launched against border defences that surely were utterly swamped by the weight of the Libyan attack. Mi-24 and Mi-35 Hind helicopter gunships came behind the fighters, firing missiles and rockets and deploying commandos behind the lines... they were GSIC, the Gelert Sentinels, men who'd fought in Andaman and Nicobar, a platoon laying waste to a company there, and in Southern Africa.

Uqba ben Nafi Air Base, near Tripoli

This place, its modern form created by the Indian-Soviets, was impressive. Really, one arrived here and wondered at the expanse of concrete, a surface stretching so far as to leave its middle free of the ingress of shifting sands, a rival to the desert dominating elsewhere in the country. It was built to easily host the Libyan Air Force and also to accept a Soviet over-load. At the time, Sopworth imagined a show-down with capitalist party-political Europe, but, in the event, his descendants faced monarchists.

Flying from the United African Republics through friendly AfCom airspace and over the impotent Central African Republic and Chad, both plied by Papa Africa and fear of France, Indian aircraft began to arrive. Southern African, too. NT-7 Kan-gel and NT-4C Hobgoblin interceptors and air-superiority fighters protected a train of Marathon cargo planes. Libya's bases were being put to their intended use, and, it seemed, half the Soviet air force was arriving.

Oh, yes, the East, not the West, had won the war of the C20th, and here it came, a delayed counter-attack against the crusaders, the carriers of disease, the imperialists. Aircraft from the Indian Soviet Commonwealth, the Indian National Union, and the United African Republics were bringing supplies, equipment, and personnel to Libya, escorted by Soviet fighters, many of which were taking-up station in Libya. If they struggle with a few Typhoon, let them try to face a few hundred Hobgoblin...

French satellites would probably show the distinctive shape of Soviet aircraft on Libyan airfields. Probably they couldn't identify specifically Hindustani Paras -maybe including men who'd fought Dra-pol to a standstill?- and the famous Lusakan Revolutionary Alliance Corps, which, in the end of the 1970s, had defeated the Roycelandian Empire on the field of battle, but they too were arriving.

(OOC: Sorry, was that too much reference to the types of weapons used? I thought about rephrasing a lot of it and just posting a factual list of equipment, but that seemed more stilted and contrived when I tried it. I suppose it suffices to say that the Libyan spearhead had professional soldiers and modern equipment, inspired by Arab socialism and Islamic jihad. The second line will consist of conscripts with cold-war-era weapons and limited mechanisation, inspired by a desire to go home and have a coffee.
Ah, yeah. See, this is why I felt guilt-compelled to put Tulgary in with the League. The Indian Soviets may be almost impossible to stop, now that we're arriving on two fronts over the next five in-game days. Sorry! Royalist-Tulgary will fight hard as it can, if that matters =) )

((Oh my. BG, now I’m a little confused. Remember I gave southern Algeria to Roycelandia, so there are no French or Royal Algerian positions there for you to attack. The border of the Kingdom of Algeria runs parallel with Laghouat, where Fte. Ste. Joan is. So you have a valid attack, of course. I am just saying there is really no positions for you to hit, unless with air power, and I will respond to you air assault though. So, you either invade Roycelandian Southern Algeria…which I think would suit you just fine ;), or go through Tunisia, which UE represents. Just some info. Either way, I’d have a good time to prepare for what would be a noticeable assault.))

Notre Dame, Paris

The organ shook the vast cathedral, as three choirs of a hundred lifted their voices sublimely to heaven, trumpets rang out with kettle drums, and orchestra of violins completed the magnificent spectacle.

Following the Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, and unabashed success in Africa so far, His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste had ordered the city of Paris turned out to celebrate, and ordered a Te Deum to be given at Notre Dame.

It was a bright day in the early fall. Cannons from the Bastille fired over a hundred blanks over the city, signaling the arrival of so many kings and queens. Church bells rang joyously. Streets shook with joy as the French yelled the train of passing carriages proceeding to the Cathedral de Notre Dame, all had little fluer-de-lys flags. His Majesty Archduke Papan of Tulgary, the Catholic Majesty of Spain Philip VII, the Tsarist Prime Minister Monsieur Armand were all in attendance to celebrate as well. Philip VII was Louis-Auguste’s brother in law by marriage to his youngest sister Antoinette. Le Comte de Provence, Louis-Auguste’s second oldest brother, was the husband of la Comtesse de Noilles du Papan, a member of the Papan direct line. And of course, Louis-Auguste himself was he husband of Queen Jillesepone, the beautiful eldest daughter of Tsar Wingert.

The choir lifted their voice:

Te deum laudamus…

A prayer was specifically offered for the dead Tsarist Nigerian war hero General Kuwabara.

The monarchs were all kneeling in the front row, before rising and proceeding outside to the hysteric crowds following the Mass. Then their Majesty’s King Louis-Auguste, Archduke Papan, and King Philip VII performed the Royal Touch, laying their hands on sick who had been brought for the occasion. As legend has it, the Catholic kings of Europe had, as ordained members of the clergy, the ability to heal those afflicted with disease by the laying on of hands. Following that there was a review of the Garde Suisse at the Tuileries Palace, and after this the monarchs dined in public at the Louvre.

That evening there was a grand ball at Versailles, on a scale not seen since before the assassination of Louis XX, father of current King.

Grand Fete at Versailles, King's seated center (http://www.costumes.org/history/18thcent/lacroix/chrome4.jpg)

The gathered high aristocracy of several realms filled the Grand Ballroom, and all were swaying to a waltz as fireworks lit up the courtyards and gardens. Their Majesties sat at the great table, enjoying one another’s company. At some point in, Louis-Auguste lit up a huge cigar, and presented his relatives with presents, and revealed to them his grand plan for the new West Africa.

The Duchy of Tulgary would receive the Guineas’ and Senegal as their colonies. Philip VII would be given Mauritania. Tsarist Russia already seemed to be moving in quite well with Morocco. And their vassal, Tsarist Nigeria, would of course be recognized as the sole owner of Niger and all of its resources. Even Roycelandia would be given a gift, Sierra Leone. France herself would keep Cote d’Or, formerly Benin and Togo. To them would be added Burkina Faso, which would be incorporated into the new state. Cote d’Ivoire would be expanded to include the former state of Ghana, and Mali would be incorporated into the Kingdom of Algeria.

With fireworks popping over the grand garden, and the Blue Danube softly swaying throughout the vast hall, a new age, a new empire, of the Holy League was cemented.

To guarantee this, His Most Christian Majesty assured his dear family that he ordered his ministers to again ‘crank up’ the African offensive, and peace would soon be forced upon the benighted savages.

Algiers, Kingdom of Algeria

The stalwart Tulgarians would not be going to Africa alone.

Steel shod boots crushed the cobblestones in thunderous unison, and Algerians hooted and stood in awe of the massive gathering. Silver trumpets peeled from Algiers Palace, and loyal Algerian subjects threw roses underneath the troops marching feet. Heavy brass drums and light fifes set the pace of the monstrous force. Column after column of fresh French troops passed though the city to the train station, on their way to Fte. Ste. Joan. Taller than they where their Tulgarian compatriots, handsome and strong, singing as they strode through the city. Le Duc de Broglie, Minister of War, had sent a shocking additional two Corps, the Vth and the IXth, 200,000 troops, to Algeria. Moreover, he had deployed not a Battalion, but a full armored division of the Order of the Golden Fleece heavy mechanized cavalry to fight alongside them, intent on simply overwhelming all resistance.

His Majesty instructed him to ‘use all necessary force’ to smash the troublesome ECOWAS and subversive front groups down. He would do just that. From his office in Versailles, he set about ratcheting up the war yet again.

Once the troops had arrived at Fte. Ste. Joan, the mega fort and nerve center of French forces in Algeria, they would strike out, and pelt the ECOWAS forces to dust. It would be a four pronged offensive. Group A, consisting of 20,000 Gardes Francaises and One Battalion mechanized cavalry, would strike south directly, making for Ouagadougou directly and linking up with the Swiss Regiment there. Group B, made of 30,000 Gardes Francaises and the Tulgarian troops, as well as one battalion of the Order of the Golden Fleece, would link up with the Royal Algerian Army in Timbuktu, then drive south west. They would thunder down to Bamako, and once the capital of Mali had fallen, the French troops would support the Tulgarians on their drive into Senegal.

Group C, consisting of 20,000 Grades Francaises and one battalion of the Order of the Golden Fleece, would make south. After securing the Algerians lines at Mopti, in Mali, they would cut west, and then south again in a drive into northern Cote d’Ivoire and a link up with le Marquis de Huerin.

Group D consisted of ten divisions Gardes Francaises who reinforce the garrison at Fte. Ste. Joan against the incoming communist horde, and 100,000 strong, where they would begin to slowly make a no-mans land of the border before the enemy arrived at the gates. Thousands of mines would be laid, along with long long lines of razor fire fencing and dead falls. The Royal Algeria Army, which only deployed some 150,000 of its 700,000 man army to the Malian theatre, declared marshal law, and took direct control of the Kingdom’s assets. Political prisoners, the ones the Libyans were counting on to succor them, republicans and communists and socialists and democrats and Muslim radicals and the like, were dragged from their prisons by the ski masked secret police. In public squares they were hung from telephone polls, a clear warning for the population to fight to the death, or death would be guaranteed. Thousands of political prisoners, terrorists and threats to the state, were publicly executed in such a manner. Louis I, King in Algeria, declared a ‘fight to the death’ and called on the Kingdom of Algeria to become the ‘first citadel in Fortress Europe.’

The Royal Algerian Airforce, consisting of Mirage III’s in the main, supported by three wings of ODSE Mirage-2000’s, scramble in startled stages to fight off the enemy air attack.

The Libyans would succeed in now diverting all jet support from West African operations, as it would be needed to repel the communists. But with the air support redirected, the Libyans would find themselves faced with staunch opposition. Hundreds of Mirages of all kinds, all though their pilots may have lacked skill, would take to the skies against them, defending their positions on the ground.

And so, unexpectedly however, the war was ratcheted up again.

Operation: Infinite Thunder

Le Duc de Broglie, faced with a communist invasion of the Kingdom of Algeria and a stalling African front, and instructed by His Most Christian Majesty to do ‘whatever was needed to win the war’, put together his last, ultimate plan to save the war effort in Africa.

An offensive on all fronts, using every supply he had, in a desperate grab to win the theatres and save the West of Africa before the communist horde from the subcontinent could arrive.

It was a brutal plan, and fit with the Duc’s estimation that ‘massive attack leads to massive victory’. A huge expenditure of force, one grand offensive thrust with every weapon available, and he hoped to salvage the situation. And so he signed the order, and, may God have mercy on us all, Operation Infinite Thunder began.

The first stage would be directed against Tripoli. Based now in Messina, Sicily, two Wings of Ordu du Saint Esprit Roycelandian Lancaster bombers lumbered into the air, the Cherubim and the Thrones, a total of one hundred and forty two strategic bombers. They were escorted by a wing of Rafale’s, the Silver Spurs. Flying at high altitudes, they proceeded toward their target, the capital of Libya.

Flying over in one long massive wave, escorted by their valiant Rafale’s, they closed in on the enemy capital, high in the stratosphere. As the satellites confirmed locks on targets, the whole city itself, the bombers disgorged their load. And when it was done, Accra would look like a picnic.

VX Nerve Gas was deployed in huge canisters, showering down upon the city. The most deadly nerve agent in the arsenal of France, making the Chlorine Gas attack on Ouagadougou look fun, the ODSE now conducted the largest chemical weapons attack in the history of warfare; intent on leaving the capital and communications center of the wretched communist state totally devoid of life. Still following the massive assault, UGC was deployed as well, burning the nerve gas choked city. The bombers would no doubt take casualties from the well trained Libyan’s, but with such a deadly nerve agent, even two bombers should have been enough to clean out Moamars capital.

While the bombers wiped Tripoli out, Mirage’s scrambled in the Kingdom of Algeria organized to fight off the incoming craft. The French and Algerian troops would not march out to fight the well equipped enemy, but dig in in their defensible positions in the Kingdom, centering around Fte. Ste. Joan. In case anyone tried anything, they didn’t need to worry, the French had given all the military gasmasks in case of enemy retribution after the strike on Tripoli.

Concurrently with the Northern African battles the Supreme Commander in the south the Marquis de Grammont, having cut off and surrounded Accra, made his headquarters in Cape Coast in Ghana. His dispatched four divisions of the Royal Vanguard Legion with armored support then along the coastal road, intent on driving into Cote d’Ivoire from the east.

And in Cote d’Ivoire, in Abidjan, the Marquis de Huerin called in the Royal Navy to bombard the capital. Desperate now, with enemies on all sides, the French had no time to take the city in tact. Eager to destroy resistance in Abidjan before they retire to Lagos when the reds arrive, they unleash every weapon in their arsenal from UGC rockets to 6” shells, concentrating especially on Boulet Island. Fortunately, the French did not charge blindly across bridges in guerilla held cities, so the ground troops maintained a fairly good position while they called in the bombardment.

After killing all resistance at Ouagadougou airfield with Chlorine Gas, the Swiss Regiments eventually storm the airport with little resistance, and set up a secure post of command. They would soon be able to link up with the Nigerian forces on their way, and secure the lines between themselves and Bobo-Dioulasso.

The war, then, was ratcheted up.

Louisbourg, Cote d’Or

His Highness Leopold I accepted the native delegation in his headquarters, the former luxury hotel of Porto Novo. He assured them they had won their demands, and as proof gave them their first payment, as promised, in silver bars and Cote d’Or credit notes to the delegation. The delegation would be allowed to distribute the fund to their electors as they saw fit. Food and medical care, supplied by a huge Catholic mission now on site near the camp, would be open and available twenty four hours a day. The only stipulation was regular attendance at Mass given by the missionary aides, which was sweetened by the offer of good meats and stews afterwards.

Following their acceptance, they were created as the Council of Notables for Cote d’Or.

After they are sworn in, they are informed of the war effort. Once the city was fortified, the people too would find refuge there. Once the rubble was cleared and power and water activated, would they not benefit too?

So, Leopold informed the Council of the desperate plight. Work had to begin at once, but they would have breaks and such, all supervised by the Catholic Church. Following the meeting, once the bars and notes as a sign of faith have been given and the Council given legitimacy, the French engineers would work alongside the natives instead of behind them, and the massive work on Louisbourg would slowly begin.

Lome, Cote d’Or

As per His Most Christian Majesty’s express demands, Leopold I assents. The Council in Lome is legitimized, and brought to Louisbourg to join with their new colleagues formerly of Benin. They are also charged with preparing the Council for the arrival of new members, no doubt soon, from Burkina Faso.

The people of Lome would have their two months, and their demands for selection. In return, they only had to agree, for pay as those in Louisbourg, to work on their own city of Lome. First the city would have to be made defensible, then power on, then water. But for money, the French have every hope that natives will cooperate. And now, after all, they have people that they themselves elected to represent them.

It is very much hoped that this mild policy will bring immediate results. The liberators have given their sign of faith. If the Africans break it, only bondage and forced labor can result.

Rural Cote d’Or (Benin and Togo)

In the now secured southern flatlands of Cote d’Or, His Majesty’s forces still conducted marches of rural villages to the capital. But with the good news of the leniencies arriving, it is hoped the villagers will be more eager to go and less eager to be driven on by teams of attack dogs.

Helicopters still conduct heavy sweeps, and troops still rove about, so any guerilla activity would now be both foolish and pointless, besides fatal.

Versailles

Calling an emergency meeting of a Grand Council of State, His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste made a rare public address to the people of France. He had been shot full of his ‘calming solution’, the only way he could still perk up his charisma these days when he had to be charismatic in public. But he was charismatic, and lively, and he spoke with vigor and energy, the audiences cheering with his words.

“And so we fight them on the doors of Fortress Europe! They are come, to destroy the Papacy, to destroy our society, to pervert the world. We will fight for Christendom until the very end, and burn them all to hell!”

His Most Christian Majesty rallies His Court and France (http://www.freinet.org/creactif/moulin/EXPOSES/HISTOIRE/REVOLTE/IMREVOLT/revolt22.JPG)

“We will never surrender! By the Grace of God, we shall put these demons upon the earth to the sword, by the scythe we shall reap them!”

Again the audience boomed, flushed with the idea that Armageddon was here, and France was now leading the ‘true’ west in a fight to save Christianity from a horde of monsters closing at a rapid pace.

And in case the motivation wasn’t enough, in France the Secret State Police, la Marechaussee, was put on full alert as well. Propaganda songs blared all day long, heralding victory and peace to come, with Zerah Leander’s There will be a miracle, one day. Like the peasants of the medieval ages, the subjects of France now adopted a siege mentality, and the cities saw the raising of various shelters and defenses by brigades of “the King’s Men”, loyal stalwarts of the regime.

And if that wasn’t enough either, the posters went up:

Vive le Roi...ou la Morte (http://www.michas-spielmitmir.de/bilder/vive_le_roi.jpeg)

Did I just read reference to a Soviet attack against Roycelandia? Just to clarify.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Libya has launched a pre-emptive attack on the illegal collaborationist authority in Algeria. At the same time, Soviet, INU, and UAR forces are airlifting into the big Sopworth-sponsored bases in Libya. Since none of those involved nations, and so far as I'm aware pretty much nobody outside of the HL/imperialist-bloc recognises any Algerian authority but the People's Democratic Republic, Portmeirion, for its part, reckons that any foreign troops who get shot in the process fall in a strange coincidence, since they shouldn't be there, anyway. IC post soon.

Northern Libya

A French bombing attack was not unexpected, though, when radar operators in and around Tripoli started to report the scale of incoming forces, there was some borderline disbelief in elements of the command structure. At near-by Uqba ben Nafi Air Base, the Air Force's primary installation, fighters scrambled while the lumbering bomber-stream massed over the gulf. Across to the east, more aircraft lifted-off from near Benghazi, though these would only arrive in the moments before French planes approached the Libyan coast.

Unaccountably... no, perhaps through the indignant fury of an arrogant authority... the French had neglected to make even the barest showing in pursuit of the surpression of Tripoli's air defences before launching their main assault, or even to take stock of the scale and disposition of those defences. It would be a costly mistake.

"Be advised..." pilots heard control's warning, "...a Code-Black strike is authorised."

As fighters wisely hung back, all the activity was below. Libyan officers put in a firm request with the Soviet commander assigned to the Jamahiriya. Watching more and more signatures appear on Improved Long-Track and other radar readouts, Major Gunasekera thought of Lavrageria, Accra, Gibraltar, and knew that nobody alive would think that a French attack on this scale, against Arab, Muslim, socialist Libya, so clearly arranged by a hot-head full of boiling revenge for the Libyan offensive, had any other than one intention. Clearly it was to be another chemical attack, certainly in part at least.

He nodded, and, calling two of his officers, broke-out the codes.

Still out over the gulf, the forward planes in the French force were passed by a large missile moving at great speed. Mach 8? A second such missile approached. Tripoli's two S-200 surface-to-air missile battalions had launched the first part of the city's defence in what was one of the gravest military clashes in history, as scores of chemically-armed bombers approached to be met by two blinding flashes.

Moments passed. Two fireballs, hundreds of metres across, had consumed so many aircraft and lives. Shockwaves had raced through more as sensitive instruments suffered in the face of detonations twice the size of the Hiroshima bomb. Observers waited. Suddenly, the survivors were spotted, and communications relayed. The S-200s launched again, this time sending standard warheads under Libyan control, requiring no help from the Soviet liason team that had charge of the command codes required to detonate those first nuclear payloads.

Far less impressive were these 215kg high-explosive warheads, but, attacking targets flying at high altitude, their effective radius was enhanced by the rarified atmosphere several thousand metres up, and planes scores -even a couple of hundred- metres from the epicentre of each blast were destroyed or critically damaged. Then, as the hammered remains approached the shores of Tripoli, two V-75 battalions unleased six more large missiles, obliterating some three or more kilometres of sky in each axis in the middle of what remained of the French. Another volley of the same expended the ready arsenal of these battalions, which had not time enough to reload their big missiles before the attack was over, one way or another.

Four LS-8 AFRISAM battalions protecting the long-range missiles put their relatively modern missiles into the air, agile enough to tackle bombers or escorts, smashing into them both as they closed on the approaches to the city. A second volley from the AFRISAM just seconds behind the first, and the Libyan fighters fell upon a wave that had by now become a ripple.

Locally-scrambled Libyan-piloted Mirage F1, and Mirage 5 and MiG-23 flying from Surt, all virtually ignored the Rafale as they made high speed attacking runs on the bombers, which, by now, were settling in for their attack runs, if they hadn't more wisely turned-tail and aborted the operation. Three squadron of Mirage and four of Flogger, already this was the biggest thing the Libyan Air Force had ever done, emboldened by an Indian pledge to replace attrition in its expensive equipments.

The Libyan pilots were competent, having trained in Marchetti elemental trainers before progressing to either aged Czech Albatross or Yugoslavian Galeb jet trainers and then conversions trainers, advised by the Soviets -and recently the Yugoslavians- as they went. But, with a few natrually talented individuals aside, most hadn't really the experience to make them world-beaters, and their steeds were outclassed by the Rafale in most respects. Flying in defence of their homes and families below, they came screaming in with courage and determination, prepared to take great risks to deny the bombers a chance to reach their targets, and did not find it hard to pump round after round, missile after missile into the strategic bombers. On their way in from south and east, several fell to defensive fire by surviving Rafale before even reaching the bomber stream. Their only advantage against these planes was that if the Rafale stuck to their wards they were slow, easier to hit and escape, having inferior air-speed when launching their missiles compared to the fast incoming interceptors launching theirs, thus gaining for the Libyans some advantage in reach and lethality; while, if the Rafales left the bombers, killing more Libyan interceptors in doing so, they exposed the Lancasters to superior numbers of attacking aircraft.

Golkonda started to appear soon after, when the Libyan assault had forced the Rafale to commit one way or another. These small fighters climbed with the aid of an engine-grinding second-reheat, shrieking up into the sky with trails of flame behind them, before falling in upon the French escort fighters trying to protect what remained of their bomber force. In the bomber stream, a Roycelandian machine in French colours dragged itself out of the lead position, one of its port engines aflame after a proximity detonation by an LS-8 missile, and began to dive in hopes of extinguishing the stubborn blaze. A French republican-built Mirage F1 in a Libyan coat swept in to worsen the bomber's misery with two 30mm cannons, shattering the pilot's canopy and killing several crew. A Rafale gave chase, acquiring a missile-lock, losing it, regaining it, and launching a short range weapon, which, for a moment, the Libyan almost seemed to be shaking from his tail. Then, as the wounded Mirage spat black smoke like it was an old man's chewing tobacco, frantic chatter across the Libyan channels reported the Rafale's capture in the gunsight of a Golkonda that came in from behind to complete a four aircraft-long chain of attack and revenge. The voice -told repeatedly by the Raipur-born squadron leader to shut up and stop clogging the airwaves- was unstoppable as the two Lavragerian-Yugoslavs in the sortie exchanged banter, the specifics of which they were alone in understanding while the general tone was clearly one of jubilant and frenzied revenge, with sixty or some such million dollars of Rafale being pelted by gunfire.

Aided by powerful ground-based radar, which the French failed to engage prior to their raid, limited Golkonda fighters were able to plot sensible approaches as the Libyans extracted a massive duty from an enemy that ought to have been markedly superior. Perhaps the League's old-world autocrats had heard that the bomber will always get through, and thought that there was no need to make a path, first. Well, the Australasians had made similar blunders over Morocco, this one was just more grandiose, as was the French style, after all!

Tripoli

More and more smokey fingers pointed curious eyes towards the battle above as surface-to-air missiles continued last-ditch efforts to prevent even the barest of attack forces to get through. Sirens encouraged -or orderd, as this was Libya, after all- people into what shelters were available, or at least off the streets, and most promptly obayed. Fireballs in the sky, smoke patterns, flashes and bangs, thunder of war. Jets came crashing to earth -or more often to water-, bringing down French, Libyan, Indian, and Yugoslavian men, and Libyan and French roundels.

Most bombers were destroyed in an instant or two, out over the sea, and more trimmed away on the approaches to Libya's capital. Still more would have been forced to drop-out, crippled, and most of the rest compelled to drop early or else were forced off course, and all dropped from remote altitude. But nerve gas was nerve gas, and in Tripoli -ashamed sister of Madrid, proud sister of Belgrade and Sarajevo-, home to almost 1.7 million, people would certainly die.

In coming minutes and hours, as Libyan NBC reconnaissance and clear-up teams were dispatched, Soviet personnel, boosted by the vanguard of a major multi-national airlift, would begin serving atropine injections to those obviously exposed and distributing common chemical-resistance pills and medication more widely. It was too early to qualify the damage by scale.

Concurrently, Portmeirion, scrambling to confirm details, prepared to release a statement indicating that, in order to meet a French carpet-bombing attack on the metropolis of Tripoli, Libyan air defence battalions had been cleared -in a field-command military decision- to deploy Soviet-supplied kiloton-range nuclear warheads aboard surface-to-air missiles. Speaking with Soviet-Commune authority, comrade Adiatorix would stress that this extreme measure had been a defensive, tactical, military strike against an offensive, strategic, terror strike, and indicate that it was not an undue escalation and did not constitute a strategic first-strike, and in fact appeared to have taken place possibly within the Gulf of Sidra's closing line. The Soviet Commune would also threaten that continued French deployment of weapons of mass destruction would, ultimately, force the free peoples and nations of the world to begin retaliting in kind.

(OOC: No, I don't mean that I'm planning to attack France, it's just an attempt to put events into context and make sure that nobody rashly... nukes Libya, using a tactical event to justify strategic escalation in nuclear terms.)

((... wait a second, you used nukes? Well, regardless, I now reserve the right to plaster with nukes of my own. You escalated it to nukes, so dont blame the consequences on me. Im not being a jerk, but, c'est la guerre.))

[OOC: Nova Gual, I think the French General Staff needs to seriously speak with the Spanish General Staff about a response. Not to dog out - that is not my intention - but Spain will not take part in a nuclear war; we have nothing to defend our homeland with against that, or retaliate with.]

OOC: BG, that's ridiculous. There's no way you can use nuclear weapons and not expect retaliation. The distinction between "tactical" and "strategic" is one for academics and intellectuals, but as soon as the common people of any country hear the phrase "Libya nuked Algeria" it will be all the same. You've just totally reshuffled the deck, validated the Commonwealth's reputation as being an "out of control bunch of barbarians", and brought nuclear warfare to Africa.

OOC: That might be true... if you hadn't just made it up!

Did I just read of an attack on Roycelandian Algeria???

Nukes in Northern Algeria???

What the everloving SMEG is going on here???

You know, BG, it's generally considered appropriate to TG people you intend to invade- especially when they've made it clear they can't get onto the forums- and let them know what's going on. As I read this, Libya just nuked Algeria, and now there's basically nothing stopping Roycelandia from turning most of Libya into a glass-like replica of the Moon's surface... we've got a couple of Dreadnoughts in the Med with Nuclear Missiles aboard, and now would be the ideal chance to flex our muscles in that regard... although, personally, I'm loathe to break out the Nukes since I wanted to keep them for something really dramatic. Still, if RSAlg has been invaded (and don't think we won't fight back), and NAlg. has been nuked... it doesn't really leave us much choice, y'know?

I see Nerve Gas and other such lovely things being deployed also... at the rate we're going, I'm guessing it won't be long before we've got Trench Warfare and Nazis involved somewhere too :-P

Seriously though, this changes the game somewhat, but if Libya want to try and re-enact the battle scenes from Lawrence of Arabia with the Imperial Guard, I think it will be a very interesting match-up indeed...

OOC: Why does everyone keep saying that?! The only nation that has deployed WMDs offensively in the entire war is France. Algerians are more likely to die by a crashing Lancaster full of nerve gas than a Libyan nuclear blast. The Libyans deployed surface-to-air missiles against a French bombing raid, including two with Soviet nuclear warheads, the only chance they had to keep from seeing a few hundred thousand civilians gassed.
You would have to be a complete dunderhead to think that Algeria wouldn't be invaded, anyway. Why the whole imperialist bloc seems to think that it can start wars without anyone shooting back is beyond me. Why anyone would bother, even, if they thought that's how it'd go.
I have, equally, been deeply puzzled by Roycelandia's fascination for throwing itself on the French sword, but if you want to fight for a widely unrecognised newly established North African desert colony, against Arab Muslim socialists, well, be it on your head! =)

Newly established? By my reckoning, Algeria has been Franco/Roycelandian for a number of NS years now...

Anyway, I'll refrain from making an IC post until I've caught up with all the events involved... which will be Sunday (Australia time), since I'm working all day tomorrow (18 hour shift!)

(OCC: Heh, well, certainly not as long as the Algerian Republic...)

IC:

Abidjan, Cote D'Ivoire

For the defenders of the port city of Abidjan, the change in French objectives spells disaster. They had been banking on the French trying to take the city intact, of course, and if such had been the case the invaders would no doubt have had a tough time at it. The bombardment, for which the Ivoirians are largely unprepared, destroys much of Boulay Island and Port Bouet, rendering those areas unusable for months, perhaps years, to come, but still killing thousands of Ivoirian troops holed-up there. The capital's six M101 105mm howitzers, formerly camoflauged and placed to fire into likely crossing points for boat-borne Frenchmen, try to return fire, mainly against the closer-in bombarding vessels. Observers on the south side of Port Bouet are able to provide coordinates for the guns, and targets up to six kilometers offshore are shot-at by the Ivoirian howitzers before counterbattery fire knocks them out.

Not all the Ivoirian troops are killed, though. Many of those deployed along the shores of the Ebrie Lagoon are left largely unscathed by the bombardment, but quite shaken and deprived of communication with other infantry units. French shells and rockets had, after all, cut much of the cable laid in advance for the defenders' use, and jamming renders most radios unusable. The Ivoirian regulars there are dug into deep slit trenches and foxholes, often chipped into concrete, and these do not yield easily to even six-inch shellfire. But a concentrated infantry assault, once the French brave the lagoon's open water and Ivoirian machine gun fire, will likely break the disorganized and indeed weakened line without all too much trouble.

Defenses in Port Bouet, an area apparently not heavily targeted by the French, are more intact than they would have been otherwise. Out of the two thousand men assigned to the defense of Abidjan's southern peninsula, nearly half had either died or been seriously wounded, and all but two AMX-13s are inoperable. There are still a thousand Ivoirian regulars there, holding the bridges to Boulet Island and ready to demolish them at a moment's notice as well. But, as is the case with the island itself, the defenders will likely not stand for long against a concerted attempt made at storming their position. One strong defense that still exists largely unscathed is the AAA cannon position overlooking the Vridi Canal. The Canal had already been mined by the Ivoirian Navy's pair of ex-German patrol boats, since destroyed, and any attempts made at sweeping the vital waterway would need to face a quartet of twin 35mm Oerlikon guns.

For the most part, and fortunately for the nation of Cote D'Ivoire, most Ivoirian citizens had long since evacuated their homes, so noncombatant casualties are on the low side. Most of the Ivoirians had evacuated, in the week or so since France had moved on Benin, towards the capital Yamoussoukro and the relative safety afforded by General James Malinke's joint division, with its relatively long-range SAMs and early-warning radars.

Uqba ben Nafi Air Base, Libya

The last Union paras, some 500 men, are finally landed during the final stages of Tripoli's epic defense. Six tired Belfasts, four of them now in fact on their third military operator, set down at the oversized airbase with the Tornados of No.1 Squadron, No.15 Squadron's F(J).4s, and No.5 Squadron's Jaguars in company, narrowly avoiding interception at the hands of Libya's own Mirage IIIs more than once. For airlifters nearing the end of their service in the IAF, and already several decades old, the Belfasts are certainly being worked hard, and the French sattelites will doubtless notice their distinctly non-Marathon profiles landing and taking-off from Uqba ben Nafi very frequently. Despite No.44 Squadron's valiant efforts, which border on recklessness given the age of their aircraft, only 6,000 Paras are delivered to Libya, and that without any serious armor or artillery. With all its marines in either Sujava or bound for Dakar aboard the ISC/INU/Strathdonian combined fleet, and with all the paras in a similar predicament, there isn't actually very much more that Parliament can send overseas, logistical capacities being a mere shadow of what they were during the Malacca War.

Still, those three Parachute Regiments are perhaps the best light infantry formations to have been deployed so far to the African conflict. Unlike the French mercenaries, who have only seen action against guerilla armies in Lavrageria or Algeria, it is difficult to find an officer or NCO in the INA's contribution who didn't fight in a major conventional war. The older ones are veterans of the hard-fought victory at Andong, or the Nepalese Defensive War, where a handful of Nepali and Unioner infantrymen held-back nearly six times as many Chinese attackers. Some are even survivors of the ridiculously costly fight for Miyako-Jima, where the INA suffered nearly 50% casualties as a result of a Bonstockian nuclear attack. Understandably, therefore, the Paras don't think all too much of France's elite units, to say nothing of Versailles' almost one million in Algeria, the bulk of which must, by any practical standard, be conscripts without battle experience and without good training. So regardless of their massive disadvantage, the Paras are in high spirits, ready to march into Algeria on their own if need be and face the French behemoth in a fair, honourable contest. They'd likely undertake the assault on foot, and with bolt-action L8s, if there were no other option, and would still probably give the Frenchmen a fight that they'd never before seen.

While it isn't much, the Paras do carry with them some useful gear. In place of the collapsing-stock 1B SLR, a version of the L1A1 and the weapon that saw the INA through a fair few wars, the Unioners are armed with the 6.5mm INSAS-1, the same assault rifle as their Soviet allies. In addition to being capable of relatively accurate automatic fire, the problems of fielding two distinct types of ammunition are avoided. The Paras have two dozen AT.40 antitank missile launchers, deployable from light Mahindra ATs, which allow engagement ranges above 8,000 meters, as well as eight 75/105mm antitank guns, capable of stopping any armored vehicle currently in existance dead in its tracks. Twelve FV 721 reconaissance cars provide the Paras with a small armored screen, and six Rapiers are on hand for low-level air defense. Perhaps it isn't quite enough to take-on the whole of Algeria's defenses, but it is certainly a good spread by any standard, and the Paras are only made more confident.

The IAF's contribution also prepares for action, a task no doubt aided by the large degree of commonality between INU and ISC airborne ordnance. Of the three types dispatched to Libya, each is considered superior in terms of capability to anything operated by France. No.1 Squadron's Tornados can carry over 9,000 kilograms externally, including a pair of BrahMos ASMs or four Land Eagle PGMs, and are intended for use in the stand-off strike role. No.5 Squadron's Jaguars specialize in close air support, and their pilots have all seen action in the Nepal Defensive War. Constantly being trained, and having battled Bonstockian Gripens and Chinese J-10s in less-capable models, the F(J).4FGA.4 pilots of No.15 Squadron also stand to perform well against the best that either France and Spain can field. All the Unioners are eager to join the fighting, and await orders from the theatre's Libyan and Soviet commanders.

Keralan Soviet Socialist Republic, Indian Soviet Commonwealth

"...and, and in the cases of Bonstock and Dra-pol, the government of the United States has proven that it will not tollerate this sort of barbarity!"

"Unless purpetrated by somebody baptised, yes."

"No, no, I don't think that's... look, it's the fact that it was... we're talking about nuclear events, which the French have never-"

"And that's not reactionary hysteria? It's the other N-word, isn't it? Pay a man a pittance, throw him in gaol, just don't call attention to his race. Shoot a child's mother, burn him alive, just don't expose him to nuclear radiation while you're doing it, is that the policy?"

The missionary continued in his attempts to make his hosts understand the position taken by his countrymen, and himself, over the defence of Tripoli, and was having no more success than when he tried to tell them that one about the invisible man (who, apparently, didn't ride a pink unicorn, as it turned out), but this was actually being received as an important issue. Important enough that he was on regional television, after all.

And it was on leaving the regional television studios that he was confronted by several militia auxiliaries. The Quinntonian, on attempting to push by, was picked up by his shoulders and pinned against the outside wall of the studio, suspended in the grip of a 6'10" Geletian while an Indian woman informed him that the world did not appreciate his violent hypocrisy.

Deep in the Western Ghats

Eighty minutes later, a blindfold was removed from the missionary's eyes. He couldn't know where, but he was clearly now some way from the nearest Phalanstery.

He was surrounded by a trio of Commonwealthers: the Geletian man and Indian woman, and a young Tamil boy had joined them. The boy was awkwardly holding an AKM rifle, the woman a small digital video recorder, and the Geletian, kicking the back of the captive's legs, forced him to his knees, and began to speak. In one hand the Celt grasped a factory-standard Molotov cocktail, the primitive fuse alight, and in the other a glass vial containing clear liquid.

"So, Quinntonian. You see that we have taken on-board your arguments and the position of your imperial government, and we now offer you a choice: should you like to be poisoned to death, or burned alive? You are allowed to defend yourself, of course, but you will notice that you have one hand tied behind your back and wear on your hip a gun that is not loaded. Now, choose, and good luck."

Protestations were ignored for several minutes.

"I am afraid that there is no more time. The attack is upon you. And, alas, it is poison!"

The kneeling man uttered some words in a shaking voice, possibly a garbled prayer, and the Geletian tossed the contents of the vial into his face.

Igovo-Trivandrum

A tired looking Anglo-Saxon trudged into town, indicated by several nodded heads and a fair bit of laughter. "I wonder if he wet himself!" cried one girl as he passed by, his hair now more or less dired-out after a brackish shower drawn from the Kerala Backwaters.

"Good job the Libyans didn't side with the US, eh? They'd all be dead by now."

Roycelandian Broadcasting Corporation World Service News

"... but the farmer's daughter laughed the incident off, saying they'd both had a good time and it was all a bit of a fun.

In news just to hand, the Colonial Aircraft Corporation's facility at Nairobi has been partially destroyed after one of the Lancaster II bombers on the production line caught fire during a routine QA test. The fire, which started due to a faulty engine, quickly spread throughout the facility, destroying much of the production line and killing six workers, with scores more injured.

To further worsen the situation, the bulk of spare parts for the Lancaster II, which were destined for France, were also destroyed in the fire, forcing the Imperial Defence Bureau to suspend delivery to France until such time as the facility could be rebuilt and that it could be ensured there were sufficient spares for Roycelandia's own Lancaster II fleet.

The Imperial Investigation Bureau and the Nairobi Fire & Rescue Service have both confirmed that the blaze was an "unfortunate accident" and not the result of "counter-Imperialist" activities.

There is no official word on when the facility will be operational again, with the Imperial Defence Bureau and CAC's official statement being "Wibble".

His Imperial Majesty Emperor Royce I has also condemned France's use of Nerve Gas in North Africa, as well as the escalating crisis and use of Nuclear Weapons in Libya.

Speaking from Washington, where His Majesty is attending a conference hosted by Quinntonia, His Majesty re-iterated Roycelandia's commitment to peace and prosperity, speaking of even closer links with Quinntonia and Australasia, and of a long-term view of a world free of ideological conflict.

More news as it happens, this is the RBC World Service. It's 1400 hours Imperial Standard Time, and coming up next, it's time for Technical Planet, our weekly look at what's new in the realms of technology..."

Uqba ben Nafi Air Base, near Tripoli, Libya

Dejotarus of Ancyra Newydd cut a fantastic shape from the sky as the men of more than half a dozen nations were forced to look up in order to see their field commander. The Coral Sea veteran was now, as then, mounted upon a huge warhorse, this time hardly less odd on a sea of concrete.

The Soviet General-Elect wore a vest of chainmail, fashioned by hand in the style of armours worn by his ancestors who cut through the Balkans, Asia Minor, Armand, and the Guptas, and laid the Tamil Kingdoms to ruin while the ancestors of France loafed about in villas styled by their decadent conquerors, and the Greek and Phoenician history of Libya was crumbling before the same enemy. On his head, Dejotarus balanced a steel helm adorned with with a stylised boar, hand-crafted in gold.

In the Coral Sea, Dejotarus had been Admiral (the first to give-up his commission during the end of the Second Commonwealth and the last days in which the term Igovian applied officially to the Commonwealth), but, as the Commonwealth had never been a major marine power, he was a make-shift Admiral at best. A man of fighting repute, commissioned mainly because of his youthful loyalty to Sopworth's 1980s premiership. Now he felt marginally more comfortable, ashore and at the head of soldiers, not bobbing about on the waves with a lot of unwilling sailors.

The hostile intent of Roycelandia was no surprise to Dejotarus, his countrymen, the Libyans, or the other Africans. The Sovietists and the Libyans at least were hardly shocked by the aggression of the United States. Japan's involvement was unexpected, but, one supposed, it was given out of cowardly appeal to the Quinntonians and with the impression of safety, so remote as the eastern islands appear from Libya.

Still, if Tokyo (I don't think that Kyoto is the capital, right?) wanted to force Soviet reconcilliation with Dra-pol, involving itself against remaining Soviet allies and satellites would probably be a good way to do it.

This wasn't the immediate concern of Dejotarus and his comrades.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Assembling in Libya was a force of satisfying stature. Joining the Indian National Union's 6,000 Paras, experienced against the most infamous enemies of their time, was a force with fame to match such infamy, no less than the 1,750 men of the Lusakan Revolutionary Alliance Corps's 17th Division Vultures, whose forebearers had defeated the Roycelandian Empire and who themselves refused to stop fighting even when they were driven out of their home country and their President was deposed. Their nation's three Marathon transport aircraft joined the half-dozen Indian Belfasts in an airlift lead by another half dozen Soviet Marathon... and then two shapes that indicated the serious nature of the affair more seriously even than did the distinctive General. An-225s, two of the only three on earth (all in Soviet hands), and the two completed in India to Commonwealth specifications. They'd already carried several hundred tonnes of supplies and equipment to Libya, and were going back for more.

Marathon AEW -and Morrigan AEW-UAVs- were establishing coverage over Libya and the near seas, supporting both the Libyan air force and the much more capable Soviet fighter aircraft already on hand.

The Soviet contribution on the ground would be larger than that of the United African Republics or the Indian National Union. For the first time, the Soviets were engaged in something more than pre-war European-style expeditionary deployment of their mighty potential. An entire army was in Bihar, an expeditionary force was en route to West Africa, and an airborne force was arriving in Libya. Now was the time to prove the Soviets' superpower.

The initial plan in North Africa was -as demonstrated by the original deployment of six Marathon- simply to support a Libyan raid on Algeria's colonial masters. It would have been just another expedition like the abortive attack on New Caledonia, the air-only support of the Nepali revolution, the special-forces help of the Filipino communists, the Soviet Marine operation to free Livingstone Miyanda from the Tendyala junta, and so forth. But United States and allied ultimatiums changed things as much as did the French nerve-gas attack on Tripoli, which, as it turned out, had killed forty-eight civilians and left more than a hundred in after-care following the administering of Soviet anti-chemical drugs.

Now, Commonwealth ships were hauling people and supplies into Tanzania, greeted by a grateful smile from now-President Tendyala, and dozens of Marathon filled the African sky, along with a large quantity of the 350 civil transport aircraft designed for conversion in a situation such as this. Sopworth learned much from the USSR, and the modern Commonwealth well remembered Aeroflot's example!

The capitalists had forced the Soviet hand. A major commitment to Libya was under-way, designed to force an about-face or, failing that, to repulse an attack. A consequence of the deployment, of course, was that if the capitalists did rethink, the Soviets in Libya would be left with a large force and nothing to do but liberate the Democratic People's Republic of Algeria.

Allied soldiery -such as the Hindustani infantry- could almost certainly find mechanisation aboard the nineteen hundred APCs and ICVs of Libya's People's Guard, itself 45,000 strong and supported defensively by more than 40,000 recruits of the People's Militia Reserve. A total of ninety-three thousand allied ground forces discounted the Soviet commitment, growing hourly. While MT-3 Peripatus (neé Hotan) battle tanks began to move out from the airbase, huge canisters strapped to the backs of the Antonovs were hauled-down outside Tripoli and, in coming hours, would be erected around the capital. Red Sky over Libya.

Washington

The Soviet delegate was apparently unshaken. "It doesn't worry me" he would say, "It's probably no safer in Washington than in Tripoli, if the United States decides to start a war. Still, I shan't stay if I'm unwelcome."

Needless to say, with the Soviets and more nations behind him, Col. Muammar Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi saw no reason to be disarmed by the imperialists. What use are defences if he may not use them? All he has done is to half-heartedly attack an enemy that the United States itself now holds under threat of war!

[OOC: A rather quick query... does Qadhafi actually have nuclear weapons of his own, or are they all Soviet weapons deployed to Libya?]

OOC: Well, so far as I know, he hasn't got any in reality, so, no, he has no nuclear weapons, and the Quinntonians are going to have a job disarming the Soviet Commonwealth. Of course they've some facilities related to the development of nuclear weapons, but the Commonwealth sought to provide defensive weapons to see-off the need for that. Not wishing to be reliant, of course, the Libyans, independent of the Soviets, have some basic old chemical weapons, and possibly some slightly more modern such weapons, but there's been no sign of their deployment.

OOC- Just a bump, with the nuke attack now agreed upon as valid, hopefully it will only be a matter of time before we raise this thread from the dead.

Look for developments hopefully within the week, of course I shall have to begin by taking damage from nukes. I dont think that bombers do so good when hit with a nuke, though, hmmm?

OOC: Yeah, I heard that rumour to be true. But don't feel to bad, when the gossip first told me nuclear weapons were bad for planes I laughed him off. Guess he is having the last laugh now.

((What’s with this thread, it is nearly impossible to find! I wanted to make this more comprehensive, but I haven’t the time! Oh well, at least it is something, I will try and make it ‘potent’ enough to draw a response. And again though it is shorter than usual, I think all modified French actions will be apparent…I will do specific RP’s to back them up, but this is the set up ‘as of now’.))

Arx (formerly Lome), Cote d’Or (formerly Togo)

…moreover a full wing of heavy bombers, the Iron Thrones, was wiped out nearly to a plane over pestiferous Libya, only several craft surviving to tell the full tale. Roycelandia is moving in the Arab lands. War comes to Eastern Europe, while it already rages in East Asia. Therefore, judging the time is right, we order you to consolidate the gains made thus far, and we charge you with the sacred task of re-uniting West Africa under our prosperity without any further delay. Time is now of the essence. Consequently, it is our pleasure that you are now in full and total command of our forces in theatre, and in a capacity of such command shall not be hindered by any means from fulfilling your task. All resistance is to be crushed before the Soviets are able to deploy any forces into the area. Totally, completely, and irrevocably crushed. No civil power must be left functioning outside the purview our ally, the Prince in Cote d’Or. We judge also that to accomplish these tasks you will need to ‘adapt’ strategy as needed, you have leave to do so as you see fit. I leave you with the following admonition: save our troops in whatever respect whenever possible, grant our enemies no quarter, do not hesitate to put them to the bayonet it necessary, and most importantly you must immediately link up with de Huerin’s forces in Cote d’Ivoire and the mercenary troops in Burkina Faso. Do whatever needs to be done to secure our victory, and attain as much victory as possible as soon as you may! I pray that God now take you into his keeping. Louis-Auguste Rex.

Le Marquis put down the dispatch with a shaking hand, taking a breath as he did so. He then picked up the next item sent to him, a baton. He was now Le Merechal de Gueret. A long road traveled from a second lieutenant with a proud name graduating top of his class from Saint-Cyr, the French military academy. He was now in full and complete command. Feeling a high rush through him, he approached the window, and observed Arx. He lit a cigarette, and began to mull over his plans.

How long would it be before the Soviets arrived? A week, perhaps two, if luck was with them three? What did he need to do to secure a victory against the ECOWAS rebels in that time? A lot. He had always disagreed with le Duc de Normandie’s handling of the war, he fought as a royal ought: charges and glorious marches that changed with the Duc’s emotions themselves. Of course, in his position then, as second in command, he could hardly say anything. All le Duc would have to do is write to his brother, and le Marquis, now le Merechal, would have spent the remainder of his soon to be brilliant career in the Bastille. But now he was in charge, and he had a lot to prove, to everybody.

And he would prove it. He would get tough, systematically and for the duration. He would not surrender, he would advance. He, in other words, would become a hero not by birth but by daring. In Restoration France he would get a magnificent welcome. He took a heavy drag, now came the planning. He would sleep on it, being far too giddy with the ennobling already, and in the morning summon the field commanders. Another thought, he would also bring Leopold in from Louisbourg. His stings were far easier to pull up close. So he took a heavy a heavy drag before flicking the cigarette out the window of his headquarters, Arx’s former largest concrete parking structure which had been accommodated to serve French needs.

In the morning, he issued his orders, headlined under the simple premise:

Plan 2

Object: To secure lines of communication and supply between disparate French and allied forces while eliminating resistance behind lines of direct action and elsewhere in West Africa.

*The haphazard advance into Ghana will cease. Operating from Tema, three divisions of the Royal Vanguard Legion supported by three divisions of Gardes Francaises and two full armored regiments of the Order of the Golden Fleece; this ‘Force A’ will directly cut across central Ghana, Accra having already been surrounded and cut off, and link up with le Marquis de Huerin’s armies in central Cote d’Ivoire north of Abidjan. ‘Force A’ will use overwhelming force to quickly wipe aside any enemy blocks or ambushes.

*Once the link has occurred, two divisions of the Royal Vanguard Legion with one regiment of armored cavalry in support will cut north to Ouagadougou and establish a united front with the troops paradropped in. Once this is complete, the link will be made with the Algerian Royal Army’s advance into Mali and allied forces shall be connected as surely as the enemies forces will be cut off.

*The above constitutes a simply and strong, cohesive, advance, and so will be easier to supply and aerially defend logistically.

*Remainder of French forces will concentrate in Cote d’Or and secured areas of Ghana. They will secure internal pacifism and with overwhelming force single out and eliminate rebel formations. They will depopulate the countryside by forcibly removing indigenous populations to Arx and Louisbourg, to begin immediate participation in the ‘Job Opportunity Program’.

*Concurrent with all the above, French airpower will be streamlined and concentrated as well. It will be provided for the drives of ‘Force A’ and in support of paradropped troops. Specifically the two strategic bombing wings, 142 Lancaster II bombers, operating in Tsarist Nigeria are to begin around the clock UGC bombing raids on the following cities: Bamako, Dakar, Bissau and Abidjan. Bombers will attack from high altitude in flights of seven craft, and are to continually, around the clock, carpet bomb the aforementioned cities until ECOWAS surrenders. No more foolish mountain raids or country attacks, the bombers shall concentrate to this mission which they adequately proved themselves adept at.

The conference ended with cheers, with the French warrior nobility now glad they were in the hands of a hardened and experienced strategist soldier. Leopold bellowed his approval, smacking his fat hand on the table repeatedly.

It then began. An orderly drive out of Tema to link up with the western forces. Bombing around the clock against West African cities still in full rebellion. And intense efforts behind the front lines which le Merechal had every hope would crush and subversive insurgents.

Le Merechal de Gueret sent off a dispatch that evening, assuring His Most Christian Majesty that victory would be at hand.

Let us now turn to the newfound efficiency with which the liberators of Africa operated.

Bo’dakialao, Eastern Ghana

The Supreme Commander of the effort would not entrust the collaborationist militias with rounding up the locals. With his new plan, and with the additional resources it allowed him, French forces themselves would effect the ‘Job Opportunity Program’.

In the early hours of the morning this rather industrious city (for West Africa) of some nine thousand slept. Of course some were on guard, but they could not possibly be prepared for Versailles’ change of plan. It was a moonless night and only a few underfed dogs scrounged around the empty streets. The silence was shattered precisely at two o’clock as massive speakers lit up along with flood lights, announcing the following:

“Arise happy villagers! You are now liberated from the corrupt and benighted rule of the Anglo-Islamic-Marxist conspiracy! You have five minutes to gather your belongings and evacuate your house. Prepare for a glorious new life of work and wages! Vive le Roi!”

The message then repeated itself every thirty seconds, updating the time the residents of Bo’dakialao had left.

Alarms boomed on, and the troops of Relocation Commando Team 4 went to work, a full battalion of RVL shock troops, unleashing a kind of chaos. Equipped with night gear, heat sensors and body armor, they had what they needed to get the job done.

Resistance of course sprang up. A squad of Legion troops had to duck behind a corner as some rather heavy fire started up out of a factory type building. The sergeant called in:

“Lightning at 33 by 9, repeat, lightning at 33 by 9.”

“Confirmed” came his radio response.

A sleek Zulu attack helicopter zoomed in, and poured down missiles, startling at night, into the factory. The fire from it stopped, and the squad zoomed in.

A few streets over some villagers were reluctant to leave their house. The doors were kicked in, windows smashed and they were hauled out before bright flash lights. All one could hear was alarms and barking dogs, for the French Relocation team had brought scores of vicious German Shepherds.

One man hauled from his house yelled and screamed. He produced a revolver and attempted to stand. The heavy butt of a FAMAS rifle smacked him down for good. His terrified family got the message, and took off for the column double quick.

“Move, move, move!” the commandos shouted, often firing their weapons into the air for effect. A group of older men started chanting and attempting to hinder the progress of the evacuation. Gunshots rang out, and they quickly dropped to the earth, as cold as they now were.

In other words resistance in all forms was crushed. No more rebels or insurgents now. Cote d’Or would become a state in deed as well as name.

After the first scattered attempts at resistance, and now seeing that any hindrance would be mortally responded to, the townspeople began to shamble along in columns on their way to Arx to work.

Heavy reports rang out. An actual, real, rebel cell was found. Unconcerned with what shape the city stayed in, the attack helicopter came down again. The heavy reports ceased after the slamming of anti surface missiles dissolved the primary school where they were holding up. A team of the Royal Colonial Militia, collaborator troops, dispatched the survivors with their machetes.

As people now poured out of the city, harassed by yelling and the smacking of rifle butts, a group of rebels, or a small family, depending on your point of view, fled the column. Betrayed by their own screaming and by their bright colored robes they made for a stand of trees, hoping to flee into the brush as so many of their compatriots had done in recent weeks.

But the Grand Armee had a new Merechal, and new impetus, their flight was abruptly halted. Colonel Etienne Brissac, commander of Team 4, simply nodded to his Aide-de-Camp. The sleek form of several teams of shepherds was unleashed, the black and tan coats of the hounds dissolving into the dark. It became obvious they made contact with those who tried to flee, the screaming was awful for a minute. But only for a minute.

“Clean them up” said Brissac, remarking to the bloodied dogs as they returned. He turned about. “Get this damn column moving, now!”

Renewed shots into the air, and squads letting their dogs get very close to the refugees, resulted in a quickened march. They would be in Arx by the morrow at this pace. Very good. Very good indeed.

“Fire the town, but take anything you like before it goes up.” His orders completed, Brissac hopped into an armored vehicle, and went along to inspect a column of eight thousand some excellent hot bodies for the ‘Job Opportunity Program’.

The soldiers didn’t find much, but enough to make a few happy that evening. His Most Christian Majesty’s men were getting wealthy indeed off the bones of Africa. Someone had to sate the soldier’s appetites, after all, what was some gold necklaces and good hardwood tables here and there?

Dawn did not find everything in good order. The column of evacuees moved swiftly down the road to do hard labor fortifying Arx and serving the French and allied army. They were overshadowed by their burning town, which immolated quite nicely after Louis-Auguste’s men got the blaze started with paraffin. The wreck of the former village, desolate and open, would not be providing for rebels any time soon.

Not one French or allied soldiers, or even a dog for that matter, was lost.

All over Cote d’Or this scene repeated and in many cases expanded itself. The rebels and insurgents would be crushed with so many resources now directed against them.

With the regular bombing of rebel cities and a clear concerted drive across the plains to Cote d’Ivoire and victory, le Merechal de Gueret whistled happily to himself in Arx white imagining the beautiful cordon bleu he would receive for his efforts, when he was given his place in the Ordu du Saint-Louis.

Who knows, he might even get to marry a royal. Maybe, even, Chairman of the General Staff. When reports trickled in at victories abounding in his jurisdiction, he promptly sent the good news off to Versailles.

And whistled some more.

Southeastern Ghana

Doubtless the raid on the village of Bo’dakialao had been a French victory. How could it have been otherwise, with Ghanaian irregulars caught both unawares and unable to inflict any casualties on the Frenchmen. But it would not be repeated. France would learn, and quickly, the dangers involved in such operations. Slow-moving columns of shocked Ghanaians, being marched off to what they can only interpret as slavery at the hands of the French, will keep the enemy soldiers from exploiting whatever mobility advantage that they might have otherwise had. Certainly they will be outpaced by Ghanaian irregulars, men who know the territory and who don't have to troop cross-country with their gear and then head back the other way. Far from being much of a problem, French resettlement efforts provide irregular forces not located at the immediate point of attack with excellent opportunities to harass French infantrymen very much occupied with other business. Carrying-out their attacks in small groups, or even individually, irregulars make it necessarily difficult for French flankers or counter-ambushes to be truly effective. Several Ghanaian parties might be caught and driven off, or killed to a man, but in the space of time taken to resolve even a short firefight, the French necessarily let many others make their attacks unmolested. Many Ghanaians make use of the Lee-Enfield No.4, a weapon quite capable of penetrating heavy body armor, and able to out-range the FAMAS significantly.

Frenchmen will find it all but impossible to track-down these small, fast-moving bands of raiders from the air, or indeed on the ground, as they only maintain contact with the French for as long as it takes to squeeze-off a few shots or send an RPG grenade into the side of a slow-moving APC. Heavily-laden French foot infantry won't easily catch up to the Ghanaian irregulars, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and their rifles, and that's provided the irregulars are spotted in the first place before they make their escape. It is not, after all, easy to spot such small targets amongst the foliage and the folds of the earth. Terrain around the Volta might be flat, but it isn't desert, after all.

Unfortunately for Gueret's prospects of a quick victory over ECOWAS forces, it turns out that there are, in truth, no roads leading around Accra, which, although bombed and ruined, still contains several thousand defenders, armed to the teeth and ready for a battle. Small dirt tracks might take French troops along the very outskirts of the city, through its shantytowns that approach the hilly terrain to the north, but the only route immediately capable of handling a mechanized army at a respectable rate is the Kwame Nkrumah Highway, and that runs right through the heart of the capital. Unless Gueret wants to try and build his own road around Accra, he will have to go through it, or assault the 30,000 Ghanaian regulars still very much active in the hills north of the capital and in the middle of the country.

Benin & Togo

More Frenchmen might be allotted for the task, but the counterinsurgency campaign in Benin and Togo won't have anything to show for itself until much time has passed. Gueret would do well for himself not to expect his forces to defeat in a matter of weeks an opponent that has had years to prepare and organize, and operates on what is very much home turf. Roycelandian and Bonstockian efforts in the Socialist Republic of Vietnam to crush the NLF lasted years and had ultimately nothing to show for themselves. The war in Algeria took just as long, and it took the USSR at least a decade before it put paid to the Forest Brothers in the Baltic republics. Men on both sides die, ambushes and counter-ambushes are mounted, but it is not a conventional contest. The Irregulars do not try to hold ground. Indeed, they will withdraw if taken on terms not entirely to their liking. And they will attack vulnerable targets, and not wait in the vicinity long enough for the French to direct overwhelming firepower against them. Grand offensives and pushes cannot win this kind of war, certainly not in less than a month. Gueret would do well to study history, and in so doing get a better idea of what he is in for, both now and for years to come, if the French somehow manage to last that long in West Africa. Resettlement, especially when it is of literally millions of people, would take any nation months in ideal circumstances. France, already burdened with the cost of fighting the Anglophone powers at sea and preparing a defense on land, might reasonably not be expected to accomplish the feat any more quickly.

And, of course, much of the Togolese Army continues to sit in positions in the Togo Mountains, stockpiling and preparing, as well as studying tactics. Either the French will attack them, or they will start raiding the French route of attack.

Abidjan

Though the city was heavily bombarded, its defenders were not all killed. Several thousand Ivoirian regulars wait in their positions for the French to try and secure the place, in particular eager for them to try and cross the Ebrie Lagoon. With all the bridges destroyed, some manner of amphibious operation seems more or less necessary.

((Again, I’m very sorry, my computer is still dead and I’m using a temp right now. But hopefully with ‘time’ kind of dealt with, we can move along till things pick up and I have more time and a functioning computer later, soon. There’s sooo much I want to talk about, but I will just limit it to keeping the RP moving along. Also, as I hope to do a comprehensive post soon to include the Libyan theatre as well, can someone, BG hopefully, tell me what forces are advancing from Libya into Algeria? And more importantly where is their line of advance: through Roycelandian Southern Algeria, through Tunisia, or both? And LRR, just curious, how did you know there were no roads around Accra?))

Southeastern Ghana (and elsewhere by default)

Irregular attacks against the removal columns are a disaster…for the natives. Of course, French troops are hit during the raids, some are even killed or critically wounded.

This pales to the hundreds of civilians that are killed as the rebels strike, and the French manage a defense. Over two thousand die in the somewhat massed rebel attack against the removal column from Bo’dokialao, a massacre. More disheartening for the rebels are the fact those still living are continued along on their forced march, in harsher conditions.

The story plays itself out all over Cote d’Or and occupied Ghana. The only response Versailles makes against such raids against an effective, if ongoing, removal program, is the use of small dog teams with handlers that make sweeps. Although many rebels are caught and beheaded, then left on the road side, nevertheless the vast majority manage such small scale strikes with success, some, against the liberators, it is true. However, these small success are paid with in uncountable civilian misery.

And the evacuation efforts continue. Towns are ‘liberated’ of what small wealth they possess. Their denizens are then force marched, under sniper fire currently, to Arx. And then the villages are burned. As the ECOWAS communist demons would know, this effort would take some time. But each day at least twelve villages were depopulated, looted, and burned, their residents gainfully introduced to the ranks of an excellent “Job Opportunity Program”. In Versailles’s estimation, and the estimation of its man on the ground le Merechal, this is defined as progress.

Arx, Cote d’Or

Seeing the rebels still in full swing and that negotiation is but a tactic of ECOWAS radicals to prolong their efforts, le Merechal de Gueret has no problem ruthlessly clamping down. Rioters are mowed down with emplaced machine gun fire outside Porto Novo. With the aided efforts of reinforcements, the natives are made to work, those refusing are whipped publicly with chiquottes, cruel instruments made of hippopotamus hide, until either they expire or surrender.

Lome, now Arx, is so fortified. Seeing that Proto Novo is devastated (Louisbourg will have to stay on paper for a long while), and Arx presents a far better cite for a strong headquarters and supply depot, the mobs of refugees are brought from Porto Novo in chains by columns of several thousand, while relocation efforts from the rural areas now shifts solely to Arx. Those defying the march are now simply shot, if there are groups rioting then they are shot in groups. If they subvert the march then dogs are put on them publicly.

Le Merechal de Gueret was cognizant this would take a long time, and had no plans for a quick victory. But he did have plans for a eventual victory. In the words of the Most Christian King Louis-Auguste, “Final Victory”. So work, for the first time since the liberation itself, now begins apace. Of course the natives were lashed and chained, but with all resistance now acceptably ‘shot and burned’, things moved forward.

Ditches were dug, barbed wire strung, blockhouses slowly raised. Again, although it would take some time, the French evinced their desire for progress.

And if ECOWAS hoped the ‘Atlantic War’ was draining the Bourbon powers, they had only to look at recent and massive Spanish submarine strikes against British oil platforms while the Holy League fleet sat pretty and waited to now, having set back the Anglo’s, dash any Progressive fleet’s hopes.

The Restorationist Movement hinged on this campaign, had been planning it for decades, resources and all, and nothing would be allowed to endanger the Restoration.

Tema, Ghana

Accra would have to be conquered then. Colonel de Malavoy, leader of the advanced section of “Force A”, realized his map data was messed up, like so much in West Africa. The wrecked city would have to be taken then, but it would cost so damn much. The ruins were scattered with rebels and even some illegal foreign commandos, if enemy radio traffic was correctly interpreted by Intelligence.

This is what de Malavoy pondered as he took a drag on a marijuana cigarette. Many were given out to the troops, at camp time, to settle them down. It was proven they relieved stress but were overall more ‘soberly’ than alcohols. His dispatch sent out to Headquarters, now in Arx, the Colonel waited.

The response came in several hours after the complete wipe out, nearly, of a whole French bomber wing over Libya…due to nuclear resistance. Two nuclear strikes, as a matter of fact. Subsequently, not a bomber got through with the intended VX. Ergo, no one knew the French had used VX. Probably a good thing in hindsight, really.

First off all, Accra had been surrounded, if not circumnavigated. The French forces pulled back to a certain distance. Secondly, the largest electrical warfare campaign yet waged in the war activated to block all radio traffic in and out of Accra.

With the city as hidden away as it could be from prying eyes, de Malavoy watched a select battery of MPRL’s roll into position, armed with special bright green rocket tubules. All along French positions, soldiers, of course, you must have been expecting it, fixed their gasmasks. Not casually, but a good hour. What was coming was not chlorine.

Since this presented Versailles with a perfect opportunity to test the effectiveness of their VX stockpiles in a hidden area, relatively out of the world’s eye, and with electronics for all intents and purposes blocking and scattering enemy communications, the Ministry of War would deal with Accra.

At twelve noon precisely all radio traffic and satellite scanning, both for the rebels and French (electronic warfare on a large scale is a double edged blade) sputtered and warped, communication in the vicinity of Accra was nil. The MPRL’s launched their cargo, one after the other. They did not make deafening explosions when they hit, just loud popping noises. VX Nerve-Gas was invisible to the eye, and had no scent. It was, according to His Most Christian Majesty’s General Staff, the most potent non-nuclear weapon in the Kingdom’s arsenal. You felt a bit of greasy water on your arm, and then the nerves began to freeze, and down you went like a fish out of water.

Le Merechal de Gueret was a savvy strategist, despite ECOWAS’s claims, and had studied his history, very recent.

No bombers were used, just massed rocket attacks scattered about the cut off city. Very much like tenting a house for termites. The French would wait at least twenty four hours after the world’s deadliest nerve gas racked the cities perimeter before moving in at night. It was inconceivable that many of the cities defenders could have lived through the assault. The largest bonus was the majority of Accra’s population had already been displaced by earlier bombing raids, so Versailles, if the story ever got out (which was almost impossible notwithstanding an internal leak), could even claim with a bright smile that only military targets, and not civilian, were attacked.

Over Dakar, Abidjan, Bamako, Bissau

One place the French could not claim they attacked only military targets however was the continuous and rolling bombing assault on the remaining metropoli of West Africa.

With Mirage escorts of all varieties, the Lancaster II’s out of Nigeria struck in waves of seven each of the cities, using UGC phosphorus bombs. The mission had been underway even since the King authorized de Gueret’s Plan 2.

Coming in at very high altitudes, the shiny silver bombs dropping down over the crowded cities looked oddly like shiny ticker-tape, before the hellish glow of UGC made the distinction.

Accra, Ghana

Lieutenant Harvey Kane looked through his binoculars at the French rocket artillery that slowly began to line the ridges. He was dressed in the uniform of the Ghanaian army, and served as an adjunct to Brigadier Sir Edwin Morrell, the city's Australasian commander. In the weeks since the veteran tanker had taken command of the three-thousand strong garrison, the two forces had merged into one under the auspices of the Ghanaian army, and the command structure was swiftly unified.

Kane watched the artillery begin to deploy, noting the violently green rockets-- different from those he had seen before. Something was wrong here. Their ammunition was still being brought up, and he estimated five minutes until firing. He freed his radio from its position by his collar, and set to garrison-wide transmission.

"Now hear this, now hear this. French rocket artillery deploying, armed with irregular munitions." He paused for a moment, considering. He was only a lieutenant, but Morrell's orders in this situation had been clear. "Institute case black, repeat: case black. This is no drill. This is no drill. Agent is unknown. Don chemical suits." All around him, Ghanaian and Australasian alike fastened the gas masks over their faces and pulled chemical suits from strategically placed storage lockers, dogging the tags down tight and pulling hoods over their necks.

In light of the various French attacks on civilian centres, Australasian forces had been issued with a list of known and suspected French chemical weapons and probable delivery mechanisms. Chlorine gas, already deployed by the Mad King's armies, was known to be carried in yellow rockets, UGC in burnished silver delivery systems. Morrell, hoping to avoid the total devastation unleashed upon other forces, had requisitioned hundreds of chemical suits to supplement Accra's supply, as well as what antidotes could be found in the rather poor ECOWAS. He had drilled the men incessantly in 'case black', a hypothetical French attack using chemical weapons, and now they ran to the storage lockers, pulling on their suits over whatever they had been wearing. Medical personnel gathered their somewhat meagre stocks of antidotes. Radio messages flew fast and furious for the next four or so minutes, before being suddenly cut off.

And then the missiles began to fall. They hit the walls, the barracks and the town squares. Those who couldn't get to chemical suits quickly enough were rushed to pre-arranged medical sites for antidote, the agent having been quickly identified. Civilians congregated in hospitals. Some lived, some died. The missiles continued to fall, but after the first half-hour of the raid, those who were destined to die in large part already had. They were not, in the grand scheme of things, so devastating to continued resistance. Of the remaining population in the city, roughly two-thousand five hundred died, leaving some four thousand left. Military casualties were much lighter, some three hundred who had failed to protect themselves, plus another hundred or so who died later.

But the city was silent. As the VX dispersed, the civilians of the city battened down inside makeshift shelters expecting a more conventional attack, while military forces returned to their defences as stealthily as possible, trying to make out as though the entire garrison had been decimated. Some fifty lights patrolled the walls of the old city, while most of the outer checkpoints remained dark, staffed by Australasians with night-vision goggles. Two-thousand six hundred men appeared to be some five hundred ragged soldiers, carrying FN-FALs, AK-47s and Enfield No. 4s, the weapons of the insurgency.

Morrell, snug in his chemical suit, surveyed the defences. The outer ring was made up of checkpoints staffed by night-vision equipped troops, followed by minefields that littered the streets and thoroughfares. Bridges were blown, and river crossings covered by overlapping machine gun nests, mortars and heavy artillery. Jamestown Fort was simultaneously a command post and the centre of opposition to the French. Guns, grenades and ammunition were stockpiled, and a few civilians had already been trained as guerrillas. Morrell's tanks, mostly unsuited to urban warfare, had been left in the charge of a second and formed part of the Ghanaian army's armoured strength. He had left word with the command staff that if cut off, Accra would require immediate relief. He hoped that they came.

Ghana

Ghanaian civilian casualtiues are not, cannot, be the fault of the irregular attackers. It is, after all, difficult for the Frenchmen to hide in the columns, and it is not as though the irregulars are randomly gunning their countrymen. They aren't like the French in that regard. No, the French must be committing the massacres, as is of course their custom. It is simply not within the capability of irregular forces to cause such heavy casualties, even if they were trying. Irregulars shoot from long range at obvious targets, using only a few rounds, and not aiming for their countrymen. The very nature of small-scale raiding makes it impossible. Doubtless some civilians are killed by their own side. That can hardly be avoided in any conflict. But the scale and regularity of such incidents seems to have been inflated exponentially. But French propaganda being French propaganda, nobody should be surprised that massacres are reported when they do not really occur. Versailles would do well, after all, to show the world that it is not the only country engaged in the dirtiest forms of warfare imaginable. A Frenchman might, after all, be shown an elephant, and say with perfect conviction that it is a mouse.


(OCC: NG, that was in response to you having my forces commit actions that I did not have them commit. Its like the Volta crossing, where I didn't find out that there was a battle begin with until after you fought and won it. This is very frustrating and I would like very much for you to stop it. There is propaganda and then there is what really happens on the battlefield, and it seems like you are confusing the two. Don't complain about me RPing the ECOWAS countries as being too capable, either. If you want to defeat them, defeat them militarily, and stop mucking around with this underhanded business. That French brutality encourages resistance seems obvious. And how did I know that there were no roads around Accra? I looked at a map. I'm sorry if you are insulted by this, but this is how I see things unfolding and it does not satisfy me. You seem to think that every African soldier is some kind of illiterate sambo who can't aim a rifle, and who can't grasp the basic tenants of guerrilla warfare, or indeed warfare. I assure you that this is not the case.)

Accra

The French gas attack by no means comes a surprise to the Ghanaian soldiers still stationed there. Some brand of enemy treachery was very much expected, given the enemy's previous conduct, and the Ghanaian Army at least has learned not to be shocked when gas cannisters begin to fall or when strategic bombers are used to incinerate the terrain with napalm. Unlike ECOWAS's other armies, though, and thanks largely to the efforts of their Australasian allies, Ghanaian troops in the capital have gas masks and they have Atropine and Pralidoxime. When Lieutenant Kane sounds the alarm, Accra's defenders don their NBC suits in record time and check their autoinjectors, eager not to die of asphyxiation brought-on by the absorption of VX nerve gas. At least in the first stages of the battle for Accra, the only military deaths are a result of chemical rockets landing on top of unlucky defenders, and the gas contained within can be safely ignored by those who take the requisite precautions. But although casualties are light amongst the 3,000 or so regulars plus Morrell's several hundred, what remains of Accra's civilian population is massacred. As rockets fall, citizens remaining in the city can only run for their lives, being totally defenseless against an attack such as that visited upon them by the Frenchmen. Some troops give their autoinjectors to civilians, but, for most, the thought of death at the hands of nerve gas is enough to put an end to such noble sentiments.

Although very much hampered by enemy jamming, communication between the 2nd Front Army in the mountains to the north and Accra's defenders is not stopped. Ghanaians, long under the impression that the French would be able to jam and intercept radio communication almost at will if war came, were trained to make heavy use of the heliograph and the Aldis lamp. Morse code messages are flashed between forces on the outskirts of the capital and in the mountains, warning both of an impending French attack and the presence amongst enemy forces of nerve gas cannisters. So the world will not remain unaware of French transgressions for long.

Of course, Ghanaian soldiers do not make much of their survival, and closely follow their Australasian commander's instructions. With luck, the French will be taken by surprise as they move into the city.

Morrell's calls for relief do not go unheeded in the headquarters of General Desmond Yeji, commander of the 2nd Front Army, and in position directly north of Accra. Immediately Yeji begins to gather his men, or at least the three regiments close enough to the capital to be of some use in its reinforcement. They proceed on foot and through the woods, concealed from French optical sensors and relatively quiet. Time is certainly of the essence, but Yeji doesn't know that he still has about a day to gather his forces and make his final plans. Hopefully the French won't pick-up on his movements before them, but, if they do, he plans to meet them with an attack of his own, using his few remaining tanks and his artillery resources.

Dakar

Unfortunately for Gueret, French intelligence must have over-estimated the time it would take for the Indian battlegroup to arrive off the Senegalese capital. They might have misplaced the date of departure, alternatively. Either way, when French bombers arrive over Senegal, they are not met by a desperate force of missile-armed L-39 trainers, but are rather illuminated by the fire control radars of over 30 Indian surface combatants. If they do not choose to abort the raid then and there, the Lancasters and their escorts are welcome to brave the missile umbrella put-up by the warships. And if that is not enough, Sea Harriers and Puffins stand ready to attack the terribly small force of bombers and their escorts, which must be low on fuel after flying over a thousand kilometers from their bases in Nigeria.

(OOC: First, an apology! I still have not much time on-line: though I can get on quite often it is for relatively short periods, and so I spend most of my time reading new posts. Off line I can really only make my moves, and it's much harder to respond if I were to get into detailed battles. To cope, I'm trying to re-shape some of what the Commonwealth will do.

Ah, Libya may have to pull-back from the Algerian border, as I will really struggle to manage that campaign, but if someone else wants to take-over then they can go with the assumption that Tripoli doesn't recognise either French or Roycelandian Algeria and, making this known, will go through the Roycelandians to get at the French. Roycelandia can let them past, withdraw before its too late, or get its arse kicked. There are thousands of Soviet personnel now manning Libya's huge excess of military equipment, and front-line Indian fighter aircraft deploying to Soviet-built bases in Libya.

More aid continues to flow through the air and the Suez, and needless to say the Soviet fleet will fall upon Roycelandia if it attempts to close the canal to Soviet shipping. Only this time they won't have any reason to get within gun range ;)

Right, sorry, so, the Soviet and Libyan forces will just sit in Libya, aggressively defending its territory, unless another player wants to manage a multi-national assault under the Libyan flag. If not, it can be assumed that the advance never got beyond a large mobilisation and a skirmish at the border, and did actually halt after the VX/nuclear controversy, the Colonel considering it all far too risky to his position personally.)

Windhoek, Namibian Soviet State, South West African Soviet Commonwealth

Well, it finally happened. Somewhere in the United States a voice was saying, "I told you so." Bitten by a tightened belt, disgusted by the west, the Indian Soviets -confronted anew by 'Combineism'- were actively employing, 'The Thiruvananthapuram Doctrine'. To the Roycelandians that would be the Trivandrum Doctrine, and to the city's Geletian populace it was the Igovo Doctrine, from the name of the historic home of the Igovians and heart of that tribe's pre-Walmingtonian kingdom.

It (the doctrine) is influenced by the life of Sopworth Igo and the teachings of his father, Graeme, and was compiled by a council of which comrade Adiatorix was elected chief.

In Namibia, scores of officials had been remanded to the care of social education centres and citizen councils -Soviets- established to conduct the affairs of government. More than one thousand Soviets were registering in Windhoek -and being recorded in Raipur- and observers of the Soviet system would have to read something into the dual titles of the Namibian Soviet State and the South West African Soviet Commonwealth. The former corresponds with individual states in the Indian Soviet Commonwealth, a term evidently equivalent to the SWASC, which must, then, be designed to incorporate other lands and peoples adjacent to the NSS... which keeps its national flag while flying for the SWASC a familiarly unblemished field of red.

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

In Namibia, International Brigades were consolidating as Soviet forces tracked loyalists from the right of the old SWAPO government attempting to form right-wing militias and the Lozi people revelled in their acquisition of local and regional senates with substantial local power in the Caprivi region.

Namibians, Indians, Lusakans, Vietnamese, Lao, Nepalis, Bangladeshis, and many others arrived to take up arms with which to fight the imperialists in Africa. Amongst them a good number of French men and women, many of whom had lived in exile in the Soviet-protected autonomous Pondicherry enclave on the sub-continent, desperate to take the fight all the way to Paris.

La Sociale! and Vive la Revolution! became almost official mottos and rallying calls while, remembering the suicide prince, many of the most heroically committed self-sacrificing volunteers would recite his last words, Rappeler la Commune!

Thousands waited to be transported to west Africa by air or rail along Lusaka's old communication routes through the Congo and whatever remained there of the African Commonwealth, while many more were already aboard ship and coming into Dakar with the forces of the Indian National Union.

It now seemed that the Soviet bloc's contribution would be in keeping with the defence that ECOWAS was already mounting and would not represent a generic Soviet horde of mechanised divisions. These recruits would turn up with 6.5mm INSAS-2 assault rifles, soft-launch shoulder-fired top-attack anti-tank missiles, IR and optically-guided man-portable surface-to-air missiles, anti-tank mines, laser-targetted infantry mortars, and in many cases blades of wootz steel. Then there would be frequency-hopping radios and digital and satellite communications and navigation equipment, not to mention the odd warhorn.

And of course red flags and political writings enough to blanket West Africa.

Soviet warships and submarines would continue to operate with the joint Indian fleet as more aircraft flew in to Libya and Namibia and waited to be ferried in to West Africa itself. The stream of volunteers leading from each of a countless number of nations would become Africa's largest river before long, and the pool of manpower from which it spilled would most surely drown the hopelessly outnumbered enemy as his grip on the floating corpses of his victims diminished.


(OOC: Er, so, I thought it'd make more sense to just reinforce the guerrilla aspect rather than try to manage a conventional campaign with such limited time as I have. The INU can continue to assume command of Soviet warships attached to the joint fleet, inclusive of cruise-missile armed submarines and the cruiser Ood, which has ABM-missiles as well. Oh, and a few hundred Soviet fighter jets that will come from Namibia to the first suitable facility that can be put under friendly control! The only conventional campaign Soviet troops will engage in is one to secure key strategic locations liberated either by ECOWAS or by forces as the INU's command, if that makes sense?)

***Don’t mind me, lets just take this OOC for a second, perfectly acceptable. Thank you for the information BG, am I to take it you won’t play the Tulgarian expeditionary force you shipped off to there either? I thought it might be fun, you doing Libya on the one hand and Tulgary on the other. At any rate, I think Libya has good potential, you need not abandon it. I think we kind of established here that time works as it does. So if it takes you a week to do something in Libya, it can be adjusted. LRR, to answer you queries:

Slow-moving columns of shocked Ghanaians, being marched off to what they can only interpret as slavery at the hands of the French, will keep the enemy soldiers from exploiting whatever mobility advantage that they might have otherwise had. Certainly they will be outpaced by Ghanaian irregulars, men who know the territory and who don't have to troop cross-country with their gear and then head back the other way. Far from being much of a problem, French resettlement efforts provide irregular forces not located at the immediate point of attack with excellent opportunities to harass French infantrymen very much occupied with other business. Carrying-out their attacks in small groups, or even individually, irregulars make it necessarily difficult for French flankers or counter-ambushes to be truly effective. Several Ghanaian parties might be caught and driven off, or killed to a man, but in the space of time taken to resolve even a short firefight, the French necessarily let many others make their attacks unmolested. Many Ghanaians make use of the Lee-Enfield No.4, a weapon quite capable of penetrating heavy body armor, and able to out-range the FAMAS significantly.

---You

I took this to mean you were attacking the removal columns. Now, that is hardly a 'nice' thing to do. What could you possibly imagine would happen when snipers from the bush start drilling French escorts of civilian wains? A tea party? Or a bloody massacre, because that is how I visualize it. I did what I saw happening under the circumstances.

To you other points, I need not quote. Firstly, I will say that I do find it remarkable, remarkable, remarkable, that the poorest, most illiterate, most disease plagued section of the earth has been able to contain the French military’s twenty year build up, after a month, to a few small zones. Benin and Togo mainly. Please contrast this with Portugal, which had a defensive capability nearly equal to all of ECOWAS, in several days to the Spanish.

Secondly, thank you for just dropping the entire Progressive fleet in Senegal, at the northernmost and westernmost tip of ECOWAS, without any warning and its last location plotted at the Cape. I would say that is analogous to the Volta criticism on your part. Please, if I missed posts with you saying it was slowly moving up, once I am shown I shall apologize and continue accordingly. I bring this up because the recent naval battle in the Atlantic was thorough and conspicuous, the opposite of your recent navy post. I would have never heard the end of it had I done something like that, so I figured you should hear something as well. Again, if I’m wrong, please let me know.

Thirdly, I have had no proper military forces of ECOWAS to even attack. They fled to the Togo Mountains, wherefrom if they sally they shall be destroyed. They fled to the Ghanaian hinterlands, where you make it seem as though they are sallying forth right now. Therefore the move at Accra, which I think we can start RPing soon.

To wrap it up, you have made West Africa tougher than the Nazi ‘supermen’ empire. I was expecting to have the real fight when your fleet, which presently has materialized, from the sub-continent arrived. Instead, you have made the entire population not only opposed to, but actively guerilla fighting against, the French forces. This I find to be absurd and without precedent. Even when the Nazi’s, whom I suppose you must equate with the French, invaded Ukraine and began a program not of occupation, but openly announced extermination, they faced small but effective amounts of guerilla activity…but the citizens in the main did not fight. Citizens in the main do not, can not, fight. So this ‘underhanded’ business as you say is my only conclusion against what seems to be a race of ‘ubermenchen’ capable of taking on even Quinntonia should it have chosen to engage the theatre, fighting a first-class world war from open sewers and disease ridden cow manure huts.

I am not even going to object to your men having the necessary compounds to specifically deflect against VX in one of the wretched countries in the world, monetarily speaking and in terms of standard of living. It is impossible that Gurg could have flown such copious supplies in idem, if he wanted to even carry guns to support his tanks, which he flew in and again I did not object to. I have said mum, because I thought it worked and we should proceed.

So yes, I think you have overrated ECOWAS. And in doing so, you find me in the position I currently am in, for which you are criticizing me.

I have to say, that even though I am not involved directly in this conflict, and if I were to become involved it would be against them, I have found NG’s arguments to be valid, if a little pointed.

I guess I just am a little concerned about what I am seeing in a rise of some people claiming massive populous fighting, which has never, to my knowledge (studying history) happened. The study of warfare through history has been the study of small portions of the population doing the fighting, and the majority of them, either fleeing or trying to accept the horrors. Thos percentages have become larger as we have become more and more efficient at supporting those numbers, (read: industrialization) but not everyone will fight. And that crosses all cultural boundaries. In the most militaristic and warrior based cultures in the world, it is still an elite few who actually fight, the rest just prepare them to fight. And in WW2, there were the highest percentages of populations in history engaged in warfare, after the French Revolution made possible “total warfare” and that even rarely exceeded 5%, and the highest numbers were usually taken at the end of combat, after years of build-up and represented large numbers of foreign nationals.

But, not my RP, you guys hash it out.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Uh, I think that the ECOWAS nations have a fraction of a percent of their population in the military, while France has almost every potential resource sunk into the military. Then there are partisans, who are launching hit and run attacks here and there on the easy targets that the French are presenting in abundance. There's plenty of civilians who aren't doing anything... if it seems like there's a lack of civilians sitting on their hands, it isn't because they're out fighting but because they were indeed sitting on their hands when France gassed them to death!

And, bear in mind that there are tens of millions of people in ECOWAS, even without Nigeria, and though diseases are prevelent, the population generally displays -because of this- a bias towards the young, those of fighting age.

I have been strained to keep up to date, but I don't remember seeing LRR do much wrong with ECOWAS... where forces have been attacked, they've suffered losses... none appear to have just sprung up from anywhere and all forces can be traced back through the RP to their initial mentions. If we could have some specific example of an entire population in this thread turning into an army then I may have to conceed the point... have I missed it while travelling?

On those casualties... I assumed that the columns of people were being marched along... French soldiers were all around them, keeping them from fleeing as they otherwise doubtless would, and so a handfull of militia types sneak up, shoot at a ponderous French vehicle or soldier, and run into the jungle... the French start shooting back, people naturally panic and try to flee in the confusion, and so the French stop them the only way they can... by gunning them down. Is that not what's happening?

As to Libya and Tulgary... I suppose that I could always have them fight each other, as I could write that up while off-line, but I'm not sure how much point there is. It would give me something to do while I'm waiting for my friends to finish work and for my job to start (not until the end of next week, and then only part time), I suppose! Maybe the Libyans could push back into Algeria's largely empty reaches and the Roycelandians could let the Tulgarians move against them so as to avoid getting dragged into the war themselves. Some sort of French support would be vital to keep the Tulgarians from getting knocked over in the first two days, though. Hm. I'll think about this.

(OCC: Indeed, the same populations that, of course, did not fight against the French or the British when they first came to colonize the region. The idea that a "massive populous" has just taken-up arms is simply one that is not valid. I'm not sure if you've ever seen it, but I posted all ECOWAS defense information, including active and irregular troops, in this thread (http://z9.invisionfree.com/NS_Modern_World/index.php?showtopic=286). If I've ever done something not in accordance with this here factbook, please, call me out on it, but I don't think I have. Levels of militarization in Ghana, for instance, most militarized of all the ECOWAS nations, while much higher than in RL, still pale in comparison to French efforts. I remember mention of there being millions of conscripts in northern France, for one, and almost a million in Algeria alone. Are any ECOWAS armies equipped with particularly threatening equipment? Or particularly modern equipment? Numbers of irregulars either barely exceed regular forces or don't exceed them at all, I think you will find. And nobody is going to kill 30,000 widely-dispersed guerrillas in the first two weeks of a war.

You seem to think that everybody is fighting you, but that, most assuredly, is not the case. Is it unreasonable for irregular troops to mount attacks in the same fashion as have irregular troops since the dawn of asymmetric warfare? It isn't my fault if you can't figure-out an effective way of coping with it within the first weeks of the occupation. And how many casualties are the irregulars causing? Likely not very many. Have I ever complained about my soldiers not killing enough Frenchmen? Yes, they are obviously suffering from every disadvantage, but since when have I exceeded ECOWAS's capabilities? They aren't trying to fight a war of manouver because they have no tanks, they aren't engaging in counterbattery duels because they have no guns, and virtually the whole of the ECOWAS air forces have been wiped-out. If you don't want to attack ECOWAS troops in less than favorable terrain, that is fine by me, because ECOWAS troops aren't going to come out to be slaughtered where they have no chance of survival, much less victory.

If anybody deserves to be classified as supermen here, it is not the ECOWAS troops, who, during the Volta battle, lost at a rate of nearly ten to one, and it is not the irregulars, who continue to be killed brutally but not in numbers sufficient enough to secure their destruction so early in the game.

ECOWAS is no more overrated than France in AMW, in fact it seems less so.

Really, I think we need an OOC thread. But allow me to say this. If France were being humane, or even remotely human in the prosecution of the war, I would expect something like a Vichy-French collaborationist gang to rise. As it is, massacring civilians, firebombing towns, firebombing, then VXing Accra, I think you can understand why almost everyone hates the French, even if they don't all fight them. LRR, I suppose, has the last word on Accran civilian casualties (and probably a more sane last word than my count, where I somehow had a few thousand of them survive. Oh, well, I was tired). I suppose that I would feel better about having a less universal disgust with the French if the French weren't universally disgusting, if you will. I mean no insult, but seriously. How many crimes against humanity can you commit? France is capable of fighting the guerrillas in a somewhat honourable fashion, I sort of wish they would. I suppose that you can apply the same rant to Spiz' attempted slaughter of British civilian targets, but I rebuffed that easily enough so I won't (yay, easy to detect missiles!).

That said, I do think that the fleet's appearence was, if not ill timed, at least very sudden. While it would have taken about this long (a few weeks) to travel from India to Africa, and we did have word of it when the Soviets annexed Namibia, I guess it would have been nice to have some word of their progress so that NG could have attempted to mount a response, even if that fleet is so large that a response would be difficult. But I do eagerly await combat in Accra, since I've always wanted to fight a Stalingrad style battle. Not a step back! For the Rodinya!

(OOC: I must admit, I left the fleet's progress largely up to LRR because much of it happened while I was migrating! I think, though, that we had made it clear that the fleet had passed Namibia... and so was pretty darn close! The new timeline may alter things a bit, but ECOWAS's resistance seems likely to continue until the first International Brigades arrive, at least! Unless France has an amazing plan by which to win in a week?)

((Darn it all, I have no time! LRR, please don’t take what I said the wrong way. I consider you as having given an exemplary ECOWAS performance. My point was in the main that I cannot see an assault of a guarded refugee column with intermixed French guards by snipers turning out in anything but disaster. I guess I must have likewise misinterpreted your statements about guerillas to be larger than they were in regards to overall civilian participation. However, for fairness sake, I think the fleet should have been followed more before it materialized. Thoughts? Anyway, I want to respond to every OOC point but forgive me on account of time. I will just do a post to deal with Accra’s assault, which I do not think is too disputed. Also, I will get to North Africa as soon as I may. And as for Accra, was not Jamestown fort ‘completely leveled’?

Also Spiz, sorry for not posting on Iron West, no time. Are you fully Spain now? If so, did you get my last TG?))

Heights overlooking Accra, Ghana

Colonel de Malavoy surveyed the destroyed mass of broken buildings and burned blocks that was Accra below him, looking out from the heights above Tema towards the obstacle facing his westward march. It was a bright and sunny morning, at about seven o’clock. Behind him, thousands of soldiers of the Gardes Francaises, Royal Vanguard Legion, and Algerian Royal Army prepared themselves for the no doubt bloody battle.

Then, something miraculous happened. He noticed that in the helicopter pad behind the main headquarters several modified Gazelle’s hovered to the ground. From them, he at once recognized le Merechal de Gueret emerging along with, no, le Merechal de Saxe, Chairman of the General Staff itself. All dressed in toned down combat fatigues, but unmistakable nonetheless. Then, then men began to cheer and holler. He noticed another figure step out, familiar too. But the figure was not as he remembered him, dressed in Court Regalia and crown with scepter. Yet the figure remained compact to be polite, ruggedly handsome, and possessed of a bright pair of night black eyes over a chiseled face, obvious despite his being dressed in the camouflage of a non-commissioned officer.

His Most Christian Majesty King Louis-Auguste.

Seeing that the African theatre was in bad straits, the King decided to come in person under the strictest secrecy to observe the situation. Arriving in Arx he at once ended the ‘Job Opportunity Program’ with a wave of the Royal Hand, horrified at its results and finding them totally worthless and counterproductive. He rallied his troops there, at impromptu reviews. He demanded his men concentrate on building a solid supply line, and focus instead of organizing Cote d’Or on destroying the ECOWAS armies proper and insurgency.

Even now, to that effect, Louis-Auguste having spoken with Mubarrak of Tsarist Nigeria, thousands of Nigerian workers were being shipped to Arx, formerly Lome, to do the work for pay that the ECOWAS rebels refused. It was a costly way to solve the problem, but an eminently worthwhile one.

Now the Most Christian King hugged his troops, who were delirious at seeing this larger than life figure dropped in their midst. At that hour over a hundred brave soldiers were invested with the peerage for merit directly by the King, His Chamberlain immediately dropping the appropriate sash across their chest. The men went hoarse cheering. The King went among them, and whispered to them words of quiet bravery and encouragement.

Hold fast, young lad, after Accra we shall have gained the first step in Final Victory! said Louis-Auguste to a private of only 19 years of age.

I’ve been told of your valor, Roland, inspire your brothers to such heights! to a decorated sergeant, after a warm hug and kiss on the cheek.

He went in between groups of soldiers, clapping their shoulders, at one point stopping to take a shot with a group of men from Alsace. In such a manner did he arrive surrounded by his Merechals, foremost le Merechal de Saxe and de Gueret. He hugged de Malavoy.

“My dear Colonel, you stand on a mighty task. May God be with you, and may he continue to defend the right.” At such an hour, the King’s strong and melodious voice echoed sublime about the men.

Le Merechal de Saxe stepped forward, and presented to His Most Christian Majesty the plan of attack he himself had devised, and which would be overseen by le Merechal de Gueret, who would take direct control of the battle.

The Royal Algerian Army Fellahin Division, under the command of General Farouk, would enter the blasted ruins in a screening line formation. They would advance slowly in companies to draw out enemy fire. Behind them, advancing in loose and adaptable regimental formations would be two divisions of ‘Force A’s Royal Vanguard Legion troops. They would assault in teams what resistance the Algerians pinned down. All these troops would advance from the east. At the same time, two divisions of Gardes Francaises, also from ‘Force A’, would attack by shock brigades from the north and moving west, would cut off enemy retreat and hope of reinforcement.

His Most Christian Majesty waved a hand in the air, and reverberations of ‘Vive le Roi” echoed off the Volta Plain. Then, as quickly as he arrived, the King left along with le Merechal de Saxe. But his visit had shocked and inspired the men beyond all possible hope. What was needed for such an hour.

Le Merechal de Gueret now, with his aide-de-camp and staff, observed the battlefield before him with binoculars. General Robert Leon, his second in command, stepped forward beside him. Communications signaled all was ready. The howitzers had been put into position, along with standard MPRL’s. The sound of Zulu helicopters slowly charging to life was audible. Men filed into their order of advance.

“Sir, shall we have a bombardment first?”

Le Merechal almost smiled. “No, it simply would not do any good. That city has been bombarded as well as it may. Save all support for when we have locations of the enemy. Order Farouk to advance.” He again held up his binoculars.

Trumpets rang out from the east, and fifes played as men beat the kettle drums. The Algerians, spread out and in urban camouflage by lacking the body armor the French troops had, injected their dose of heavy amphetamines. Then they moved forward, melting into the city as their lines pressed into Accra. They were not advanced more than ten minutes when shots began to ring out.

“Order Colonels Cobaine and Vershen to advance.”

From the north trumpets rang out, and fifes played as men beat the kettle drums. Two divisions of Gardes Francaises from ‘Force A’, organized in their shock brigades, charged southwards into Ghana. In a shorter amount of time, gunfire rang out there too.

At last le Merechal de Gueret ordered “Full Engagement”, and the divisions of the Royal Vanguard Legion, in their adaptable regimental formations followed in behind the Algerians from the east, fifes and drums already going full bore.

“Sir!” yelled the aide-de-camp “We have confirmation of several enemy positions, readings, sir” the aide handed le Merechal de Gueret his highlighted map, and de Gueret nodded somberly.

“Howitzers may open fire when co-ordinates received. Zulu’s to take off and support troops as needed.”

The trumpets rang again, and at once the battle was in full motion and cannons began to thump away. Several Zulu’s lifted off, and in minutes surface to air missiles cracked away at certain parts of Accra in the bright sunshine.

De Gueret gripped his goad as his eyes strained into the charred urban sprawl. Gunfire pattered about, tap-tap-tapping all long the periphery, and soon inwards into the city.

“May God defend the right,” said le Merechal “, may God stand for us now.”

And in his heart he was at peace, the impression the King had made earlier made all the difference to both him and the troops. So it was that the Kingdom of France now slogged into the heated urban battle they had sought to avoid. The battle that had to be won if West Africa would again be a Bourbon domain.

OCC: This is ridiculous. I will reform my behavior.

About the fleet, damn, I don't really know. I suppose the waiting got to me and I jumped the gun, but I'd still imagine it fair to assume that the Indian fleet has reached Namibia at least. It also seems fair to say that some noncombatants have been killed in guerrilla attacks, but not on purpose, and certainly such results would serve to discourage further raids.

My criticisms of NG were not warranted in that light and I will try to keep things to a better standard from now on. I am sorry for making such provocative and insulting remarks.

IC:

Namibia

Although they are at first very much anxious to continue with the voyage, citing West Africa's increasingly tenuous position, fighting men and women from the Indian National Union soon begin to appreciate the value of stopping at Namibia. A base on the west coast of Africa is completely necessary for the support of Indian operations further north, and, with the Anglophone powers not certain to grant use of the Azores, Indian warships could risk being stuck dangerously close to the French navy and out of fuel. Union forces also deploy a quartet of BrahMos land launchers at Luderitz, vehicles meant for the West African campaign but in all likelihood redundant. They do not, after all, have land attack capability, and there will probably be enough warships off the coast to give anything that attacks the Indians a good pelting. If South Africa ever returns, or if some unexpected League maneuver to take the Cape materializes, Luderitz at least will be able to defend itself from enemy warships. Union captains are also quite happy to have more free space aboard their already-cramped assault ships and carriers, space that is quickly filled by further international volunteers and follow-up deployments of marines.

More antitank guns are loaded at Luderitz, flown-in from Dar-es-Salaam or delivered by overtaking freighters. Already, the INA contingent, some 5,500 men strong, has nearly 150 G(AT).75 high-velocity antitank guns, most of the Army's total inventory. Some might puzzle at the INA's continued reliance on the antitank gun, but nobody is about to take chances when it comes to armor penetration, and if there is one weapon on the battlefield sure to put a hole in any armored vehicle currently in existence, it is the G(AT).75. Light guns are much cheaper than full-up MBTs, and, most importantly, take-up much less space aboard ship. Maybe they aren't a proper substitute, but, who knows? Generals have been known to work miracles with them. Kursk and El Alamein can testify to that.

Namibian volunteers are also welcomed into the ranks of the very much international force with open arms. Certainly a great many Namibians have experience in the type of fighting now dominant in West Africa, thanks to SWAPO and the struggle for independence from South Africa. Namibia has birthed its fair share of brave and effective warriors, Hendrik Witbooi being a prime example, and doubtless at least a few of their modern peers have joined-on with the Indian-led expedition to assist ECOWAS.

The stay is still, and necessarily, brief, and after leaving-behind enough personnel and equipment to make a contribution to the port's upkeep and expansion, the Indians and their allies depart. Barring any serious naval opposition or terribly inclement weather, the battlegroup should expect to make the trip from Cape Fria to Dakar in a little over a week. Commanders expect to make use of the port, but if they are beaten to the city by fast-moving Frenchmen, nobody in the IN is about to shy away from an amphibious landing.

**OOC---Oh tosh LRR. Your actions were neither ridiculous nor insane. And lets have no talk about ‘reforming behavior’, this is not a PC zone, eh, n’est-ce pas? How can it be easy to accurately RP one nation in detail, let alone, what, a dozen? Like I said, there is no rush, I just want everything to be clear. Thank you very much for clarifying the fleet position, c’est si bon. Well, I think that’s all. I must say I feel a bit ridiculous too, notice the ‘Job Opportunity Program’ is over, I just brought in Nigerians to work (please, LRR, make a note of that and treat it accordingly). They need it and their allies anyway. So, water under the bridge mon ami? To continuance! And thank the Lord, I finally have a bit-o-time. Also, would anyone object to me having a few double agents among the “Free French”, seems logical but I wanted to get a stamp anyway. Oh ang Gurg, will you be so kind as to set up an OOC page for this?

Is everything clear about my move into Accra? I figured I will wait a bit to get a response before I go more on that. Also, I will wait a bit on Libya until I know exactly how and where BG is advancing. After all, I think he gets first move since he is invading.**

Rome

The Sistine Chapel was lit with warm morning colors. The organ thrummed, and a children’s choir magnificently invoked the Litany of Saints: Bona Santo Paulo, ora pro nos…Bona Mater Maria, ora pro nos and so on. Incense rose high, coyly touching the sublime works of Michelangelo. At the grand altar under the astounding “Last Judgment” a quartet of Cardinals, Princes of the Church, stood over a quartet of absolute monarchs on bended knees, blessing them in Latin by laying their white gloves hands upon the heads of the kings.

On the left was Caesar Maximus Jacomo Giuseppe del Piedmont, moving right in order were His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste, His Catholic Majesty Philip VI, and on the right Archduke Papan of Tulgary, all 104 years of him. They had called a gathering of the ‘involved’ powers of the Holy League, to make a public statement. So, as the prayers finished and church bells all over Rome began to ring, the kings rose as one.

To deafening cheers they marched at the same pace as the great doors swung open and revealed a mammoth crowd, who had been given little flags with the various houses coats of arms. Shoulder to shoulder they stood on the glistering white marble steps, in full regalia. Kings Louis-Auguste and Philip VI were dressed the most alike, in suits of rich blue velvet overlaid with great satin robes trimmed in white ermine. Both wore prodigious, Medieval, golden crowns; each chest showed proudly the Cordon Bleu of the Ordu de Saint Louis, perhaps the most prestigious knighthood in the Holy League itself. As they were both Bourbons, they did in fact look eerily similar, highlighted by the fact both wore little fleur-de-lys in gold on their raiment. Not to compare their resemblance to such as George V and Nicholas II, but it was not far off. As one unkind subject of one of their realms once stated: “Well, they look like mischievous school boys dressed up to go out and play. Not bad chaps, handsome in a suave way, they seem like the kind of fellows you’d like to go out drinking and whoring with. But it was their black eyes and hair that showed their blood was far stronger and ancient than their pretty looks, when either of them, particularly Louis-Auguste (the fairer of the two), walked into any room or area, there was no doubt a king arrived.”

Caesar Maximus wore a heavy purple silk toga, contained beneath an ornate golden breastplate decorated with rampant lions, the symbol of House Piedmont. At his side was a golden gladius, and on his head instead of a crown he wore an artfully created golden laurel. Then there was Archduke Papan, the ‘Grandfather’ of the Holy League. He was, as was widely known, 104 years young. He looked nothing so much like Emperor Franz-Ferdinand, aged another fourteen years after his death at ninety. He wore a pre Great War military uniform, so laden with medals, ribbons, and sashes that under the suit a delicate but sturdy framework had been built to keep the ridiculously aged monarch upright…the garb, after all, weighed more than he did. But his face remained stern and inspired, he was, also well known, the founder of the Holy League. Without him no monarchs could have ever been Restored to any throne, so he was in fact a crucial figure in the absolutist alliance.

It should be quickly mentioned that His Imperial Majesty the Tsar had not chosen to attend, though he sent his best wishes and terms of alliance still. But Russia was not involved in this war so far, save excellent monetary assistance, and so preferred not to take a conspicuous role, many believed because huge events were bubbling to the surface in Eastern Europe.

Now they stood together, and as church bells rang it was Caesar Maximus that stepped forward from the quartet to address the throngs. Obviously he had something very important to say. The greatest concentration of Holy League media since the Grand Congress two summers past was assembled. His bull neck was pumped with adrenalin, his eyes were glossed over. He strode to the podium and all was still. Laying a hand on his gladius, he began.

“God defend the Right,” he shouted “, God defend Us all: Rome joins the war!”

As the audience boomed, it waxed clear why Caesar Maximus was chosen to give the speech.

“By the Grace of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I have been selected to declare to the world that the Kingdoms of Rome, Spain, France and Tulgary stand united now and until the end of days in our quest to reclaim justice! Though We have been slandered and assaulted, though nuclear weapons have been raised against Us, though conspiracies abound to destroy Our way of life and our Church, Our resolve is stronger than ever!”

It was his first major speech to the Holy League at large, let alone the world itself. Yet his voice had a deep base. Not melodious like King Louis-Auguste, nor the silver glibness of Philip VI, nor the antique wisdom of Archduke Papan. It was the voice of a bull, one who sounded as though it had just been let out of the gate. The subjectry of Europe, brought from every Holy League realm to hear this earth shaking resolution, felt waves of ecstasy as they beheld this bull Emperor orate standing in front of his majestic brethren, who beamed as if the sun was a foot away.

“I declare war on the madmen of Libya, on the rebel insurgency of ECOWAS! I declare war on the foul conspiracy of Godfreyula’s England and their deformed Australasian lackeys! I declare war on Hindustan, and all who seek to subvert Christendom!” He rested his hands on his hips, stuck out his prominent lower jaw, as he soaked in the thunderous applause. Behind him the Most Christian King of France, Catholic King of Spain, and Invincible Potentate of Tulgary were nodding in approval and towards each other at his style and delivery.

He held out a hand for silence.

“Yet though we gather to wage mighty war, know that peace is ever a possibility. Not more than hours ago, the great and ancient land of China expressed to Us a desire to arbitrate peace!” More hollering, but again he raised his hand.

“Yes, peace. For though we shall soar to heaven and pierce the earth in our quest to restore right and good to Our former domains, desperate for Our Mighty Succor, likewise shall we engage in the demands of Our Savior Jesus Christ, who tells Us ‘Blessed are the Peacemakers’. So We shall entertain the pacifist agenda of China, inspired by angels, as surely as we gird and charge in war. Yet hear this: Europe will remain inviolate, Africa shall be healed, and the communist scourge brewing all about Us shall be utterly destroyed and consigned to the pits of Hell! God bless Us! God Defend Us! And May God lead Us to victory!”

Cameras flashed by the thousands, the noise went off the decibel chart as Caesar rejoined his brethren, shaking their hands and receiving their accolades. An eighty-four gun salute was fired from the Victor Emmanuel II Monument, bells peeled up to heaven.

The entirety of Western Europe was now stalwartly supporting the Holy League. The entirety of Western Europe was now actively at war, when once only the Bourbon powers fought.

The Holy League was not defeated, oh no, it had only just begun to fight.

That evening, in a grand reception in Jacomo Giuseppe del Piedmont’s lavish country castle outside Rome, the Lieutenants of God gathered in a lavish hall and listened to Los Hermanos Romeros play guitar duets. They sorted out the finer points of what should be done. Points that they preferred to discuss only amongst themselves.

Libya, irreverent and evil, had forfeited its existence. It would be reabsorbed into the Italian, Roman, fold. So Caesar’s entry into the war became a little more clear. Tulgary would get Tunisia, not a bad prize by any means. Of course France would get West Africa, with Mali to go to their Algerian allies. And Spain…Spain would get Portugal, and Morocco would become a client state of the Catholic King. As well, Mauritania would also be brought into the Spanish fold post haste.

And straight away the absolute rulers by divine well displayed their vigor was far from exhausted. It was just getting tapped.

Subsequently five Legions were mobilized, and shipped off to Naples. There they would take ship to the Kingdom of Algeria, and enter the war.

Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

After brutal fighting, the elite Swiss Mercenaries had secured the capital of Burkina Faso. Fighting still broke out here and there, but with the Swiss adopting a ‘hands-off’ approach in this country, as opposed to the previous ‘hands-on’ policy in Cote d’Or, it is expected that guerilla activity, as least within the city itself, would not be too intense.

Not the countryside around it, but the city relatively was in Bourbon hands. The fighting to take the airport was particularly brutal, but eventually the Switzers overcame the airstrip and later the town, with 375 losses. For one of the elite Swiss Regiment, such losses could never be replaced. Communication is established with the Czech Brigade, which had a much easier time securing the second largest Burkinabe city, Bobo-Dioulasso. Oberst Karl Weber, the Swiss commander of ‘Operation Heroic’, was able to radio Versailles that the paratroop mission was finally over.

The first good news in a while for the French regarding the African Campaign was forthcoming. Three Royal Algerian Army Divisions had broken off from King in Algeria Louis I’s advance into Mali, which was currently at Mopti. While the main Algerian group held there and awaited the arrival of an expeditionary element of the Royal Dauphin Corps to push further towards Bamako, two divisions totaling some 20,000 men with a hundred M-1 Abrams tanks, the two selected Algerian divisions turned south and proceeded to link up with Oberst Weber in Ouagadougou and the Czech’s at Bobo-Dioulasso.

If the link up could be achieved then Versailles would be able to declare one of its largest victories in the war so far. In the mean time, as the Algerians advanced under Mirage-2000 support, but mostly Mirage IIIs, as transport plans from Fte. Ste. Joan in the Kingdom of Algeria continued to drop in supplies until General Bashbelan and his brave Algerians could arrive.

Even raising hopes further was news that Tsarist Nigeria forces would soon swing out of Western Niger in the vital central state and concrete the link.

Dabou, Cote d’Ivoire

Le Marquis de Huerin commanded 3 Divisions Gardes Francaises and two Brigades of Royal Marines, it had been his intention to use this force to quickly take Abidjan and hold it. Unfortunately for the French forces the capital of Cote d’Ivoire proved well defended.

Therefore le Marquis left the Royal Marines and 61st Gardes Francaises to hold their good position outside Abidjan, to continue a miniscule advance into the city, slowly and carefully, while keeping a steady cannonade against the rebels. While these forces were continuing on, le Marquis himself had moved his headquarters further east to Dabou. There, in a more defensible position, he would dig in with the 17th. While he secured the link to continue the siege the 32nd Division was given a much tougher order.

Seeing that a link was in the process to his north, de Huerin ordered the 32nd to march north with all caution to Bouake, all 13,754 troops. After securing the situation there, he had arranged with the Ordu du Saint-Esprit to re-supply the forces and drop in re-enforcements. Following that, the 32nd was to continue on, and secure a link with the Royal Algerian Army to the north in Burkina Faso.

If it worked it would be a smashing plan. His Most Christian Majesty’s forces would have a line of communication and supply from the Kingdom of Algeria to Cote d’Ivoire, and so cut ECOWAS in half. Moreover, if things went well in Accra, de Huerin would also soon be able to link with le Merechal de Gueret in the east.

Cadiz, Kingdom of Spain

The above plans represented the next step in the French war plan. When Italian and Tulgarian forces could be brought to bear in Algeria, no one doubted that soon Tunisia and eventually Libya would fall. The Kingdom of Algeria was safe in the meantime behind Fte. Ste. Joan in Laghouat and the French and Algerian garrison, yet meanwhile was in a position to do no more than sit tight, supplies were maxed out. Problems would only be compounded for ECOWAS and the Progressives when Spain and its Moroccan ‘Algeria’ moved south in force past the Burm. Past the Burn into Mauritania.

The Tulgarians would soon be landing in Algeria, any minute in fact. But the Italians would take a week at least to arrive in any force, and it was anyone’s guess when His Catholic Majesty Philip VI would sortie in any force against the Saharawi and subsequently Mauritania.

Ruining these fine plans was a huge Progressive fleet, conspicuously observed by French satellites, that was lurching, apparently, towards Senegal. The French were doing absolutely as much as they could already with their Algerian allies. Everything that was possible was being done. However, advances and small victories aside, and even with things looking somewhat good, there was simply no feasible way to get to Senegal, let alone Dakar. And when the Progressive fleet arrived, things would get much worse than considerably.

So it came to pass that His Most Christian Majesty called another Conseil de Guerre and asked “What could be done?” The General Staff chewed it over, in the end suggested to King Louis-Auguste that a naval maneuver would be the only way to parry any Red activity.

So, after a call from Versailles, the French Sea Hero le Merechal de Gras du Mont was ordered to prepare the French Fourth Fleet at once, and make every effort to sail with 72 hours or as soon as possible after that. The Fourth Fleet included HMCMS Roi de Soleil, a Strasbourg class battleship. The aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle would be attached to the fleet, which composed some 8 Marseilles class light cruiser, 12 Brest class frigates, and around 14 corvettes of all sizes. A squadron of three Nantes class attack submarines would precede the fleet, being ready to leave within the day.

This still left the French Second Fleet in Cadiz to assist the Armada in defending the Straits, as well as the First Fleet based of Brest and the Third currently docked in Palermo to keep the Western Mediterranean a Holy League safe zone; in case the British or Australasians tried any sallies. Yet in the end the action was deemed appropriate. In the final analysis, the Holy League after the 12th of June, poignantly the Bourbon powers, decided to keep its fleets close to shore under good support rather than trying anymore massive charges out. Ergo the French Second Fleet’s departure was not counted as an inspired move, but also one that would not unnecessarily damage the defense of the Western Mediterranean nor Holy League routine naval routes along the continent.

And so in Cadiz the pennants were again raised on the Second Fleet. Boilers and nuclear reactors were switched on. Le Merechal de Gras du Mont retired to his cabin to make plans.

Most everyone else prayed.

OOC: Tis okay NG, and im not sure if im fully spain or not, but anyway, Morocco is in fact a partner of the Holy League in all but name, although it is the weakest of the lot, they are far from defenceless, and infact il be using Morrocan Army Units in future ops, to demonstrate that the Catholics arent on a crusade to kill everyone who isnt a Catholic, and you might want to tone down the anti-all Islamic stuff you are throwing around in favour of stuff that is against the Muslims that have not seen the light, and have realised that our gods are infact the same and that there duty lies with the other real defenders of the faith, this allows you to keep your basis for hatred of most Muslims while allowing you to avoid insulting one of your allies.

OOC: Tis okay NG, and im not sure if im fully spain or not, but anyway, Morocco is in fact a partner of the Holy League in all but name, although it is the weakest of the lot, they are far from defenceless, and infact il be using Morrocan Army Units in future ops, to demonstrate that the Catholics arent on a crusade to kill everyone who isnt a Catholic, and you might want to tone down the anti-all Islamic stuff you are throwing around in favour of stuff that is against the Muslims that have not seen the light, and have realised that our gods are infact the same and that there duty lies with the other real defenders of the faith, this allows you to keep your basis for hatred of most Muslims while allowing you to avoid insulting one of your allies.

OOC-Our Gods being the same is really oversimplifying the situation, and could cause both Muslims and Catholics to lose favour in the government, let alone the related Byzantine Christians. The roots of all of the religions are the same, but the Gods are not. One is Trinity and one is not, and that is a huge difference. I am not just saying this from my own theological piont of view, but even mainly moderate Muslims would be truned off by this dialogue, and only in the largely secular West is that language about them being the same used. Talk to your local Imam. Not to "some Muslim guy I knew," but the clergy, they would find this talk offensive. Not to say that the Muslims are bad, Catholics good talk is much better, but your approach has been tried over and over in RL and failed disasterously. The only people who find comfort in that kind of talk are usually not the ones committed enough to fight about matters of faith anyhow.

And in your Orthodox allies, this talk would draw immediate condemnation and hostility, they find their faith in the fice Holy Patriarchies, of which four (Alexandrea, Jerusalem, Constantinople/Istanbul and Antioch) are in Muslim hads or in the case of Jerusalem, in contested non-Christian hadns. Only Rome remains in Christian hands. One of the main differences between Orthodoxy and Catholicism (aside from the Pope) is Orthodoxy's long struggle and relationship with the Islamic faith. And this has been a history of Orthodox territiries coming under Muslim swords again and again.

In the revived Catholocism like that which is present in Nova Gaul, you are going to see veneration of Charles Martel and Roland, nephew of Charlamagne, who fought major battles for France against Muslims. You will also begin to see a very simple and specific faith in the population, and that will be centered around veneration of three principles, Trinity, Marian Cultism, and Pope. Of course, related to all of that will be Divine Right and Saintist Cultism, but that will not be the center of the lay-faith.

Ok, sorry, got my theology on. Not to disrupt anything, keep on going.

WWJD
Amen.

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."

Is the Fourth Fleet fully staffed with an air wing? If so, I assume that you created a few more peers, eh NG?[/smug] Are your divisions roughly the size of an American or British one, or do you have some odd form of army breakdown? Also, I just realized that I blew the bridges in Accra, which I didn't mean to do. Forget about that? Lastly, I can't imagine that the Algerians are terribly easy to discipline-- wouldn't their attack eventually become something of a human wave if they're all up on amphetamines? Suffice it to say, I sort of imagine them blowing Ghanaian cover by physically running into it, rather than hunting it out slowly and carefully. It accomplishes the same end, really. So that's what I have them do; if you would prefer me to rewrite then I will. I realize that it's poor form to change your intent, but I also can't imagine a disciplined clearing operation with amped up troops.

Raleigh, Australasia

Chinese peace proposals are met with little but derision in the Free Colony, as Australasian and British forces contain the Franco-Spanish naval forces to their bases and a joint Indian fleet prepares to lay waste to the amphibious warfare ships off of Africa. Australasian Americans, however, are generally incensed. Would China have suggested that Great Britain capitulate after the Nazis bombed London? Or Republican Spain after Franco massacred the miners? Perhaps Quinntonia should have remained at home after Pearl Harbour?

The official line is relatively simple. The Free Colony of Australasia had no intent to allow King Louis Auguste to continue his reign, which had thus far been a series of illegal revolutions, summary executions, invasions and mass murders. Should China be prepared to overlook his crimes, that was fine. However, the Free Colony would not accept minor payments or a few islands as compensation for their thousands dead.

Meanwhile, the Free Colonial Naval Auxiliary's transport vessels docked in the Azores took on stores and supplies enough for a major embarkation of troops, and Royal Fleet Auxiliary vessels of the Bay class were loaned to reduce possible crowding. The First Expeditionary Force was ordered to repaint their vehicles with Standard Pattern Desert/Rock and prepare for possible African deployment.

London

The British were only slightly less hotheaded in their response than their southern allies, pointing out that Rome's 'Peace Plan' stated that Europe would remain inviolate, and key to London's accession to a peace was that Portugal would regain her sovereignty and England be granted Gibraltar. Unless these two conditions were met, there would be no peace until Versailles approached the world with a better offering than that.

Britain's offer of temporary basing rights to the Chinese navy was swiftly rescinded, while Quinntonia was approached with a request that periodic oil shipments be made to the British Isles aboard Quinntonian registered tankers. These shipments would, of course, be paid for. However, the Royal Navy was currently unable to defend these vessels, and unless Quinntonia was willing to provide the escort then they would have to make the trip at their own risk.

Accra, Ghana

Morrell watched the French troops as they lined up in parade, receiving a man of middle years with all the honours reserved for a king. The brigadier scratched his moustache for a moment, smiling wryly at Louis-Auguste's visit. Oh, if ever there was a time to humiliate the French army, this was it. He turned to an aide-de-camp, a young Ghanaian captain who had proven himself a highly competent organizer and leader.

"Pass the word to the troops that the French king is here. Inform them that an attack is immanent." Without the luxury of a parade ground and a speech, Morrell would have to rely upon the training that he had given the Ghanaian regulars, already competent before his arrival, in what to expect. They were good men, good soldiers. They would do their duty.

Beside the brigadier, the Aldis lamp spelt out the signal 'ATTACK SOON REQUIRE IMMEDIATE AID'. It paused for a moment. 'APPROX. FIVE-SIX FROG DIVISIONS ADVANCING PLEASE CLEAR A LANE FROM WEST'. The last pause was longer. 'WE FEW WE HAPPY FEW WE BAND OF BROTHERS FOR HE THAT SHEDS HIS BLOOD WITH ME TODAY SHALL BE MY BROTHER...'

And then, the advance was upon them.

It started in the east, the outskirts Accra's weakest defensive sector. Here, there was no river, only thoroughfares filled with rubble and tangling side streets filled with Ghanaians. The Algerians advanced with a howl, running in barely-acceptable order over the broken ground at the outskirts of Ghana's largest city. Their advance, fuelled by amphetamines and arguably beyond the control of their officers, funneled itself into larger streets and avenues across which they could sprint, guns clasped tightly in their hands. The officers were targetted from the remaining rooftops and windows by Ghana's finest marksmen as the Farouk Division ran onward.

The first shots that rang out targetted those officers, and no doubt a few Algerians stopped to return fire if they could. But the snipers, Enfield No. 4s wrapped in strips of cloth, retreated as quickly as their shots were fired. For the most part, the drug-crazed Algerians were hard-pressed to locate the enemy irregulars as they melted back into the tangle of side roads. It was these shots that the French king had heard from his hill as he sent drugged Africans to do his bidding.

Next to fire were light mortars, packed in by a pair of troops and sequestered in bombed out ruins or streetlevel storefronts. Perhaps a dozen of the egg-shaped charges landed amongst the charging Algerians, but the vast majority of Accra's light artillery was concentrated elsewhere. The mortar teams, too, attempted to vanish into the streets. However, encumbered by their more clumsy weapons and far more visible due to the flash produced by a mortar's firing, a fair few of them were discovered as they attempted to flee. At least three of these two-man teams, faced with certain death, chose to stand. They reset the mortars, firing as quickly as they were able into the advancing masses before being overrun.

And the Algerians continued to advance along the path of least resistance, straight into the arms of Defensive Layer One. Defensive Layer One was an amalgamation of landmines, improvised explosive devices and tripwire hand grenades sewn amongst the rubble along Accra's major streets. Some were contact activated, some by nearby movement. Either way, the mass of Algerians triggered the explosives as they ran, one bomb setting off several other, more home-made versions of same.

Simultaneously, heavy machine guns began their chattering fire. Fifty calibre weapons of WWII fame mixed with older Maxims and Lewis guns rechambered for 7.62mm NATO rounds, firing from windows and strongpoints along side-streets. Accra, being the capital of Ghana, had been well-stocked with ammunition before the French invasion, and faced with thousands of charging Algerians, the Ghanaian regulars found little urge to save their rounds.

Squads of infantry seemed to appear and disappear in the confusion, firing their rifles and squad automatic weapons into the increasingly disorganized Algerian soldiers. They fought like guerrillas, happily melting back in the face of a determined charge by the Algerians. Taking their place, machine gun crews sawed their weapons back and forth with glee.

Northern Accra

Professional soldiers were met, in large part, by professional resistance. The northern sector of Accra was crossed by a small river that meandered southwest, growing as it went. Also a part of the northern defensive district was Accra's international airport, the best in the country and one of the finest in ECOWAS. Indeed, when joined with Cantonment Road, it formed the eastern bound of the Northern Defensive District, while Winneba Road formed the western boundary. The airport was also a large, flat space that no-doubt would be a major goal of the French attack. Accordingly, remaining aircraft were parked in the runways and burned, providing a temporary obstacle to use by the French attackers. Installed in the control towers were several machine guns and heavy mortars, their black noses pointing outward like the beaks of hummingbirds. Jet fuel canisters were placed in the terminals, and two companies of Ghanaians holed up in hangars to defend the airport itself.

However, the French would have to fight to even reach the river. While the Algerians had attempted a human-wave attack down Accra's major streets, the French units were reasonably better trained. They leap-frogged down the streets, covering each other at all times. Accra's defenders dogged them at every blind corner and from every standing structure. Small bands attempted to lead the French down dead-end roads with some success, trapping them in interlacing webs of rifle fire. The only heavy weapons were grenades, light mortars and squad machine guns, HMGs and heavy mortars were held in reserve. There were a fair few IEDs littering the streets, some of which no-doubt scored kills. However, there were no vast minefields such as those found to the east; the French regulars were considered too skilled to waste mines on at this stage. The defenders instead fell back steadily, giving as good as they got.

The Northern District's retreat was well planned. Units were to reach a general area by a certain time to prevent the French from cornering large parts of the defence because they had held out for longer than those flanking them. Of course, the retreat was not perfect. One officer's watch was slow, much to the detriment of his unit as it was isolated swiftly by French pincer movements. He-- a lieutenant-- barricaded himself within an apartment building and prepared to fight the French outside to the death.

For the most part, however, the defenders remained in motion. They had no desire to be caught by Zulu helicopters, despite being armed with the occasional MANPAD or RPG. They slowly shrunk towards the river, manned by most of the Northern District's HMGs and blanketed by mortar fire. The bridges were wired with explosives, attached to handheld detonators in the hands of a few Ghanaian engineers.

I'm tired. Really tired. There's a Western District, but they aren't doing much yet. Good night!

EDIT: OOC Thread! (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=509973)

The major Airharbour for the Azores was a busy place, full of ships and seaplanes, both commercial and military. As such, the Sunderland Flying Boat in the markings of the Roycelandian Imperial Maritime Air Service (the Roycelandian equivalent of the British Fleet Air Arm) wouldn't have attracted too much attention- like Japanese tourists, Roycelandians were everywhere throughout the world.

The Sunderland was offloading crates of "Machinery Parts" and "Pump Filters" onto the docks, conveniently located next to the Australasian berths.

Anyone who bothered to open the crates- and no-one would bother, of course- would find them full of rifles, more specifically Imperial Armaments LE 2A1 7.62x51 NATO calibre bolt action rifles, and some SLLE (Self-Loading Lee-Enfield) 2A1 rifles, also in 7.62x51 NATO calibre.

The rifles bore a cyhpher on the wristguard:

(Crown)
R.I.
2005
I.A.R.
(SL)LE 2A1
7.62x51mm

If the crate opener had been something of a military buff, they would be able to deduce that the rifles had been made in 2005 at the Imperial Armaments Factory in Roycelandia, and were 7.62x51 NATO calibre LE 2A1 or SLLE 2A1 rifles. The Imperial Crown and "R.I" (Royce Imperator) markings confirmed these were military rifles and not of commercial manufacture.

Each rifle came with 500 rounds of ammunition and a Pattern '07 bayonet, as well as a cleaning kit. There was also a bottle of Havana Club rum in one of the crates, with a note saying simply: "With Compliments."

Cote D'Ivoire

A smiliar series of crates could also be found at a small dirt airfield near the French military lines- being unloaded from an Imperial African Airways DC-3, but complete with bottle of Rum and the same note.

Port Royal, Roycelandia

His Majesty picked up the phone. "Port Imperial, please.... Ah, hello, Philip. Having fun? Thought you might be, somehow. Listen, it's about this war... Yes, that's right. Excellent. Already taken care of? You are an organised chap. Call me if anything changes... yes, of course, Golf next Wednesday. Wouldn't miss it! Well, cheerio then."

His Majesty sat back down at his desk and began to draft some communiques. He really should get a secretary, he mused to himself...

Britain's offer of temporary basing rights to the Chinese navy was swiftly rescinded, while Quinntonia was approached with a request that periodic oil shipments be made to the British Isles aboard Quinntonian registered tankers. These shipments would, of course, be paid for. However, the Royal Navy was currently unable to defend these vessels, and unless Quinntonia was willing to provide the escort then they would have to make the trip at their own risk.


EDIT: OOC Thread! (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=509973)

Well, I already posted early in the Iron West thread that Quinntonia was supplying war materials, food stuffs, arms, medical supplies, and fuels to the British right from the beginning, in massive convoys of super-tankers and cargo ships that are being escorted under heavy guard by elements of the Second Fleet. Also, they are being further protected by the Carrier Battle Group Mary Mother of God who has been charged with watching HL activity in the North Atlantic, ready to respond should something provoke them.
So, this has already been, and will continue to be happening.

WWJD
Amen.

Northwest of Accra

Ghanaian signalers just north of the capital, positioned atop one of the Akwapim-Togo Range's rather uninspiring ridges, detect and decipher Morrell's dispatch. Not ten minutes pass before the Ghana Regiment, five thousand men strong, is up and moving away from its staging area. Of all Ghana's military formations, the Ghana Regiment is probably the most potent. Its officers and NCOs were trained not long ago in Lusaka, by troops from the far-famed 17th Division, and the regiment's individual soldiers are inarguably a cut above the rest of the Army. Its ability to move quickly and quietly makes it perhaps the only Ghanaian infantry unit that might safely cross the ground between Yeji's line and the capital. The General himself remains in command of a further six battalions of regulars, guarding the routes that pass through the forests and rough terrain immediately north of the capital and thus protecting it from a French flanking maneuver.

Like their Ashanti ancestors, men of the Ghana Regiment move quickly and quietly through the forested terrain, Rk.62 assault rifles at the ready, and senses alert. Most are covered in foliage, and some, snipers in particular, as well as sappers, wear self-constructed ghillie suits and expensive, but supremely useful, IR-absorbent uniforms. To the naked eye, and indeed often to heat-seeking devices, the Ghana Regiment can become almost invisible. Their concealment skills are, after all, learned from the best. Hopefully this, coupled with the absence of heavy vehicles, will serve to conceal the Regiment's movement and spare them aerial bombardment. The Regiment moves surprisingly quickly on foot, maintaining a steady jogging pace while mortar teams and signalers move forward aboard land rovers, covered with netting and sticks to the point where they bear little resemblance to vehicles and look more like levitating bushes. A full night's rest had done them good, largely replenishing energy used for during forced marches from Koforidua. And the men are, after being denied their chance closer to the Akosombo Dam, terribly eager to come to grips with the enemy.

Ever alert, and at home in the terrain, the Ghana Regiment is on the lookout for ambushes. No Frenchmen are expected to have tried to flank the capital, but there may very well be scattered patrols or raiding parties behind Yeji's deliberately porous front lines.

Morrell is given something to tide him over until the Ghana Regiment arrives. Four AB-212s fly towards the capital low and fast, and carrying between them a squadron of Ghanaian Paras. More room would be available inside the helicopters if it wasn't for the fact that every other man in the section is armed with an FN-MAG, and that each one of the helicopters carries a pair of SURA rocket pods. The makeshift air assault unit, composed wholly of volunteers, heads for Accra Academy. Helicopter pilots have faith in Morrell's ability to spot and recognize the AB-212's distinctive Huey-family silhouette, coupled with the GAF roundels, because they can't risk breaking radio silence. Even a single French attack helicopter could likely make short work of the four Ghanaian ones if they are caught.

(OCC: I will have at least some of the other theaters up tomorrow.)

((Huge apologies guys. I simply have no time or capability to properly respond. Rest assured I shall do so on the morrow. Quinn, I agree with what you have said 100% on religion, etc. ::Slants eyes about, hands a crumpled twenty into Quinns hand, a rosary stashed inside it.::))

((I simply couldn’t stand it! I am reduced to using my old ladies Mac to do this! Damn it all! I have always wanted to do a full scale urban war RP, and I cannot pass it up. Nota bene all, lets not rush this, but savor it like a hearty stew. I figure the whole point of AMW RP is good RP, and we can work around timelines after all. Oh, and BTW, can I get clarification…was or was not Jamestown Fort leveled in the air raid? I remember reading that in the post. And I think your set up went well, perfect for the tempo.

Oh and yes…in war peers are lost and men who have proven their valor are ennobled. As a matter of fact, going by precedent, the greatest increases to any aristocratic pool come at times of crisis. It is not a bad system. For while keeping an elite force perpetuated by the best the commoners have to offer, it also inspires commoners to do their best and get ennobled, in the process thereof they become the staunchest monarchists around. As a matter of fact, I don’t know if I have said it before or not, there are basically two breeds of nobles in Restored France. Noblesse de la Robe, who basically buy their way into lower rung posts and get a title, and Noblesse d’Epee, who are given titles for martial prowess. It is the Noblesse d’Epee who occupies the important duchies and counties in France, as well as forming the Royal Court and moreover the King’s inner circle, the inner circle that is immediately outside the Royal Family.))

Eastern Accra

2nd Lieutenant Hamit Jalal was flushed to giddiness on amphetamines and exuberant after he and his fellow Algerians mad charge through the eastern outskirts of the berubbled city. Sniper fire struck down Algerians here and there, but by and large they were moving too quickly to either notice or take many casualties from the Enfield No. 4’s. Likewise they were too spread out to take hits from the IED’s, and too cracked out to let the explosions of bomblets here and there around them sap their courage. He and his platoon cleared a stretch of road…only to behold the Australasian’s defensive layer dead on in front of him. Lt. Jalal knew things were far from good when he saw white men crouching behind a machine gun nest. His last thought before his body was nearly cut in half by nearly solid beams oh lead was:

“Oh, fuck, Englishmen!”

Within the second his dozen odd compatriots had joined him in the afterlife. All over the square Algerians of the Fellahin Division dashed out of one stretch of rubble, safe, into another, where death awaited. Even enemy mortars thunked here and there, though the rubble made them causing large casualties difficult. It would be impossible to tell how many Algerians died in those first few minutes as they made contact, days would tell, but it was ghastly. In some places the vassals of Louis I King in Algeria were saved from death themselves by piles of their dead brothers. The only casualties they managed to inflict upon enemy were killing or capturing several dozen retreating mortar crews.

The sound of rattling gunfire, screeching bullets, screaming wounded, and impacts from debris must have been the noise of Hell’s Fourth Ring.

It would comfort Darwin to know that captured Australasian POW’s were taken by truck to a Geneva-standard holding camp outside Arx, formerly Lome. No torture or questions, they even got cigarettes. After the battle le Merechal expressed his desire to come and study his catches, curious to examine the first Anglo-allied POW’s in the overall war thus far.

For all that they had endured the Royal Algerian Fellahin Division accomplished it’s goal. In those first few minutes when they hit the defensive line, enemy positions came to life, highlighted, by French spy satellites high above the battlefield. De Gueret now began to form the picture in his mind of how the enemy was situated. Moments later, le Merechal de Gueret had the readouts at his HQ. The Algerians, exhausted after their charge, halted, drugs expired. They dug in on their own rubble dominated turf.

Not even seconds after the Algerians quit charging, French 120mm howitzers crashed down with pinpoint accuracy on the revealed enemy positions, adding thunder to the devilish symphony. The high explosive and fragmentary shells raked up and down, back and forth, along enemy lines. Enemy mines from Layer One were set off in the process, and what little remaining water mains and such in Accra spewed what they had skyward in the resulting earthquaking. MPRL’s landed waves of rockets further behind enemy lines, the huge rockets screaming down no doubt having more of a psychological impact than anything else. This bombardment on revealed enemy situations lasted only a quarter of an hour. Le Merechal only wanted to crack the enemy enough to charge on, not engage in hours of useless and very expensive showmanship.

While the smoke was still thick, shock Brigades of the Royal Vanguard Legion crept up behind the Algerian lines. Then, moving through the zones only seconds earlier raked by intense artillery fire, they advanced in mutually supporting attack squads. They wore top of the line Kevlar vests and battle suits, and had modified super-charged FAMAS rifles. Aside from the Royal Army Korean Heavy Infantry Division serving in Cote d’Or, and the beyond elite Swiss mercenaries who Para dropped into Burkina Faso, they were the toughest and best equipped French troops in Africa.

They darted and dodged forward. In another shocking move, only a few thousands yards in front of them, everything lit up with the white hot glare of UGC. Dozens of Mirage-2000’s swept in so low that what radar the enemy had would not have picked them coming up. With precision that belied the Anglo underestimation of His Most Christian Majesty’s war machine they dropped cluster bombs of the deadly napalm in a sweeping maneuver in front of the advancing legionnaires. Le Merechal had received his battle plan from no less a figure than le Merechal de Saxe, Chairman of the General Staff. It showed. No bombardment was unnessecarily sustained, but used only long enough to gain its maximum effect before ground advances continued.

Captured African POW’s were no longer maltreated, on the King’s personal order, feeling that having tried the authoritative way nothing was left but the Christian and humanitarian way. That is not to say that they get as cushy a camp as the Australasians, but they are given food and shelter, and not made to work.

The RVL continued its attack forward, dovetailing the UGC raid. As their advance progressed they gained more and more supporting fire positions, and from up and down the lines the Brigades ground onwards. They had their own mortar teams too, along with heavy machine guns, soon these were employed in the fighting. Within an hour after the assault, a full division in shock troop formation had engaged. Behind them wounded Algerians were taken out by the hundreds, along with RVL troopers too, while they healthy Algerians set up supply depots and fire bases immediately behind the Stalingrad like front.

No, not like Stalingrad. It was hot.

Northern Accra

Luckily for the covertly arriving Ghanaians they did fly in low enough to avoid radar, and French attack helicopters were all intently busy in Northern Accra en masse pounding down on the difficult northern defensive district. The Gardes Francaises of the 23rd of 61st Divisions, III Corps, indeed moved more cautiously than the head strong and drug fueled charge to the east. Terrain and opponents dictated this. Leap frogging was an appropriate term, if a bit biased.

Slowly and carefully the 23rd advanced southwards to the Accra International Airport. Its companies moved at a steady pace, continually changing coordinates as one platoon moved to cover or lay cover fire down for another. In place of heavy artillery support, dozens of Zulu attack helicopters roared in, gattling guns spitting fire out like (if small) dragons. Armored side compartments of the helicopters flashed like fireworks as hundreds of Hercule air to surface fragmentation rockets buzzing into the ground with shaking and explosions. With such heavy air support, also another reason why the Ghanaians slipped by nearly without a hitch, moreover heavy air support directed with pinpoint accuracy against enemy locales, the 23rd was making a cantor of caution to the airport.

They would move forward in this fashion, advancing until enemy locations appeared. When they appeared they were lit up with lasers by the special ops teams, and Hercule rockets followed soon after the lighting up. Accra International Airport was a key position, and of course real estate being what it was in Accra nowadays, Versailles had to have it.

As the 23rd moved south with its angry aerial guardians overhead, the 61st dug in to the north at the cities secured section of outskirts. Sketchy intelligence about a very large African drive south, perhaps in a flanking maneuver, was coming in. The 61st would be dug in and ready in ECOWAS stalwarts sought to spice things up. They lacked the large amount of air cover that the 23rd required in its drive against good troops, but with the advantage of holding the good ground against an enemy that would have to charge into rubble strewn streets without the heavy support powers His Most Christian Majesty’s men were possessed of, Ghanaians charges would cost ‘Papa Africa’ dearly.

It was almost a text book move, perhaps this too could be attributed to le Merechal de Saxe. Cause the enemy to exert themselves at full capacity to defend a target that would cost them hugely but could not be lose, exhibit Accra, and use the wounded animals mewling calls for assistance to bring the rest of herd in on favorable ground and annihilate it.

Off the Coast of Cote d’Ivoire

Seeing that the Progressive boats would soon be uncomfortably close, even if they were apparently making for Senegal, the light French support fleet dumped as many supplies as it could copiously on the French amphibious positions on King Louis-Auguste’s Western Offensive at their hastily erected depot at Dabou. From Dabou it was transported to le Marquis d’Huerin’s headquarters in Agboville. It would be enough to supply the force until the breakthrough either to the north of east occurred. If the breakthrough did not occur, that would be the least of d’Huerin’s worries.

After unloading the supplies, the fleet kicked it into high gear, and made a ‘strategic redeployment’ north towards Spain as fast as they could go. They did not fear too much pursuit, because as Commodore of the small force was informed by radio, the French Royal Navy would soon parry the Progressive Fleet.

Cadiz, Kingdom of Spain

The French Forth Fleet was nearly ready to sail. Supplies were heaped onto the Cherbourg battleship Roi de Soleil as fresh Rafales were flown in to replace those lost over the Atlantic a few months ago on the Charles de Gaulle.

If the Progressives had any satellite capability at all, they would be remiss if they failed to notice such, and more remiss if they failed to put two and two together and figure out why this fleet was sailing on.

((I am still not going to do anything in Libya yet. BG, your move there chum! I cannot do anything there until I know exactly who is who and where they are, more importantly.))

(OCC: Just to clarify things, the Ghana Regiment is not approaching Accra directly from the north. Rather, it is starting from a point some distance northwest of the capital, and swinging west, to enter the city from parts occupied by friendly forces and provide a corridor for retreat should it become necessary. Everyone else is sitting tight in the rougher terrain further to the north. But Accra is G-man's show, because I'm too far behind!)

Ouagadougou

With the airfield taken, although not necessarily usable, surviving Burkinabe troops move into the city proper, and continue to fight with as much determination as their limited training will allow. Ouagadougou's defenders have lost, since the beginning of the engagement, over a thousand men, leaving some three thousand scattered throughout the capital and still largely intent on helping to delay the French advance. The business of securing the city will be long and bloody, as Burkinabe soldiers take full advantage of their knowledge of the urban terrain, but in the end the mercenaries are almost sure to drive them out. The weight of numbers is, after all, not on Burkina Faso's side.

Another two thousand Burkinabe soldiers are just outside the city, originally meant to man first-line defenses in the case of a French advance from Mali or Niger but now engaged in preparing for the Swiss breakout from Ouagadougou. Sappers blow wide gaps in paved roads and lay minefields alongside the gaps as obstacles for enemy light armor. Recoilless rifle teams often deploy nearby, always in well-camouflaged positions and sufficiently distant from the road itself to allow for a quick getaway. Swedish surplus recoilless rifles and early-model Milans might not constitute the world's most modern antitank equipment, but, when faced with air-portable armored cars and light APCs, those weapons are more than adequate. After years of drilling with them, the crews know how to use them as well.

VLRA jeeps, made in France and purchased when a Republican government sat in Paris, are used heavily around Ouagadougou. Indeed, they are a mainstay of the Burkinabe Army, which values their range, reliability, and ruggedness. Burkinabe soldiers, largely deprived of heavy armor, mount heavy machine guns and recoilless rifles on their vehicles and use them to mount fast raids on French patrols and outlying positions, especially around Ouagadougou International Airport, open as it is to the countryside. Before heavy fire can be directed against them, truck-borne raiding parties try to speed off into the distance. Burkinabe commanders have been, it seems, taking a keen interest in the Ghazzi tactics employed by the Polisario Front as a way of making-up for Burkina Faso's acute disadvantages in terms of heavy equipment and numbers. It would be something to be proud of indeed if a Burkinabe motorized detachment mounted a successful repeat of the early Polisario raids, which managed to knock Mauritania entirely out of the war. But for the time being, survival and conservation of forces is more important than daring and bravery, in the great scheme of things. Truck-mounted raiders continue their attacks until they meet with serious opposition, afterwards retreating far and fast into the countryside.

Bobo-Dioulasso

Burkinabe regulars, having been driven from the town, continue to fight every attempt made by the Czech mercenaries to break-out. Recoilless rifle and ATGW teams are used to destroy French armored cars that try to move out of the protection afforded by the town, while machine gunners make the same problems for infantry. A battalion of Burkinabe Paras leads the defense, its fairly well-trained officers and NCOs providing leadership for their own units and regular army troops. Two SF.260 trainers, purchased just after the Agacher Strip War with Mali, show up to make a raid on the town's airfield using BL.755 cluster bombs. The pilots, flying at extremely low altitude and using the terrain wherever possible to mask their approach from the enemy soldiers holding the airfield, hope to find French transports there. A few destroyed Transalls or C-130s might serve to block the airfield nicely, and cut the enemy off from its supply base for a few hours at least. A column of 1,500 Burkinabe regulars makes good time from Orodaro aboard a collection of civilian and military trucks, led by a weather-beaten AML-90. Knowing the dangers posed by French air attack, the Burkinabe troops move quickly, and in a formation that is generous with spaces between vehicles. VLRA trucks and Land Cruisers armed with CA 95 SAMs or ZU-23 antiaircraft guns are used to escort the column, their crews constantly scanning the skies for any sign of a French attack helicopter or fighter. At low altitude, the Burkinabe troops can very much expect to defend themselves from all but the most determined air raids, as long as they are not taken by surprise.

Cote D'Ivoire

Apparently, and much to General James Malinke's satisfaction, the French commanders had missed the fact that his division, some 14,000 men strong and consisting of Ghanaian, Guinean, Senegalese, and Ivoirian regular troops, sits roughly along the 32nd Division's line of advance. Intelligence reports indicating a French advance north from Dabou suggest to Malinke that their goal is to unite with the mercenaries landed in Burkina Faso, and he is very much determined to make that impossible. France doubtless has an automatic advantage in terms of air power, since, to the enemy's several hundred combat aircraft based in Nigeria, Malinke only has ten fighter jets and a pair of Mi-25s at Yamoussoukro, as well as several transport helicopters and Fokker F27s. But the enemy troops are, it seems, no more mechanized than his own, who operate close to two hundred armored vehicles, inclusive of tracked AAA and SAM assets. And his troops know the terrain from the time spent on peacekeeping missions in it. Battalions are marched out almost immediately to cover all the roads headed north while Malinke himself prepares to confront the enemy. In order for him to do that, though, he will have to discover the 32nd Division's route. There are, it seems, three roads by which the Frenchmen might arrive in Bouake, if indeed that is their destination. It does seem likely, in light of that being the nation's second-largest city and being in possession of a three kilometer long airstrip. They could take the road through Adzope and Akoupe, directly north of Abidjan, although that is the longest way. Or the enemy could move directly north from Dabou, turning east at Toumodi to pass through Dimbokro on the way to Bouake. Ideally, the enemy would move directly north from Dabou, towards the capital, where Malinke's division is dug-in. Perhaps the French could be allowed to pass, provided they avoid Yamoussoukro. One division engaged in urban combat with Guillaume Soro's FN rebels at Bouake is one less division available for operations in the south of Cote D'Ivoire. Some commanders, although not Malinke himself, entertain the notion that the French siege of Abidjan might even be broken by the joint division. Certainly enemy control of the air would render such a move exceedingly dangerous, and if the division were to reach the outskirts of Abidjan in the first place, there would still be enemy MBTs to contend with.

In Abidjan, Ivoirian infantrymen are content to hold-down French forces across the lagoon, although there is much eagerness to fight the inevitable battle for the possession of the city. Frenchmen will only be able to advance so far, of course, until they find themselves faced with a water obstacle and thus unable to proceed any further on foot. As long as Abidjan is held by Ivoirian soldiers, the French are denied use of a port west of Lome, and cannot threaten both sides of Ghana in equal measure. And the longer the Frenchmen are delayed in Abidjan and in Ghana, the longer the Indians will have to arrive in Senegal.

((Just a note to say that I will be doing comprehensive responses soon…will any other people have more time to devote to this around Christmas? I think that would be a good time to ‘wrap’ things up. No rush, but well have more time to RP. Note taken on Accra LRR. If you all don’t mind please, because I wont have much time before I take an especially extended vacation ;), Ill wait for Gurg to respond before I continue on.))

(OOC: Augh, I wanted to post the Tulgarian arrival (in Algeria?) today, but I have seven minutes left on-line, then have to get to my first shift at work some miles away. Maybe tomorrow? We'll see.)

Annaba, Algeria

In Britain, some think, there's one time of the year at which people cease to be avoidant, abrasive, and rude. One time each year at which people smile to strangers and officials let people slide on the odd minor indiscretion.

In Tulgary, then, it is Christmas every week.

If you must fight a Tulgarian, fight him on a Sunday. He may give you a free shot, and will certainly not put the boot in when you're down.

Perhaps this is why the Tulgarians were shipped to Algeria on Sunday. Once they're ashore and the day is ended, there'll be six full days of operation ahead of them before they all stop shooting at the enemy and start smiling at him.

The Tulgarians, when they arrived in high spirits and Sunday-best dress uniform, were 12,000 strong and reasonably impressive. Tallish, well-groomed, often strong country lads used to working the fields of the Grand Duchy's large and rustic agricultural sector. They conducted their well-practiced drills in French and kept good time. Off-duty most chatted in one of four other national languages, and subjects ranged from their excitement at travel -most had never left Tulgary before this expedition- to football -soccer- which they were not inclined to play on Sundays.

They had no problem with travelling on Sunday since travel was virtually an alien concept, not a regular indulgence to be avoided on the day of rest, and because the ships had not Tulgarian crews.

When asked what excited them most about being part of the Archduke's expeditionary force, few spoke of any great cause. One said, "I wish to see a real black." and another, "I want to see mountains!"

On day one, the Tulgarian force wouldn't move from the eastern port city of Annaba, but would unload its equipment and relax. Get used to the climate. They had a lot of decent soft-skin wheeled vehicles and a handfull of Leopard 1 and AMX-30 tanks marked with the elaborate twists of the Tulgarian cross.

Colonel Merjain Huttler sought council with the French. He left Tulgary expecting to lead his men in securing what the French had already taken, but had since heard worrying reports of stiff resistance, Libyan mobilisation, and the approach of Indian-lead forces... would the Tulgarians be expected to fight?

((I don’t see any harm going on while Accra and its immediate environs are temporarily put on hold. No rush guys, I am not going be able to ‘hit this back’ until early next week. My phucking computer is still out, damn it all *blush that he has been too lazy and too busy to take it in*, so I just had to get these ideas of mine down before I lost them? Am I the only fellow aqui that gets major ideas for AMW mostly offline? Ciao))

Canary Islands, Kingdom of Spain

Unfortunately for the Progressive naval incursionary invasion fleet, the situation when they had left their home waters had been a much better scenario than when they arrived upon the west coast of Africa, by which time situation (for them) had deteriorated. The European powers were now under a cease fire, with Anglo, Holy League and NATO powers meeting in London to discuss a peace. Consequently, and with the pendulum now having swung in favor of His Most Christian Majesty from the red side, the French Royal Navy was in an ideal position to parry the Communist thrust. The Royal Navy had recently proven itself the equal of the Australasian Navy, maybe ever its superior, and capable of standing up very well to the British Navy; which although was historically smaller than previous numbers, was still recognized as the finest navy per ton in the world.

Now, the Admiralty, freed from ultra worrisome Anglo maneuvers, could engage head on an isolated Progressive Fleet, far from home, and now without major ports of call or allies. When the Most Christian King signed the order presented to him by Cherbourg, it contained a pointed analogy to the Battle of Tsushima, only this time it was the Europeans who had the home water advantage and the Asians who had gone half way round the world to fight alone.

So it was that the Royal Navy did not just send the Fourth Fleet to harry the Progressives, it send the First, Second, and Forth French Fleets to destroy them utterly. Thus the view from cheering Spanish subjects on the docks of Agaete was not a single Cherbourg battleship and accompanying ships. Sailing majestically down the Santa Cruz de Tenerife Strait came the Cherbourg class battleships Strasbourg, Louis XIV, and Roi de Soleil. Glistening white, their crews hardened and professional following the Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, the battleships steamed south betwixt the Canaries. Likewise glistening behind them came the Charles de Gaulle, with again its full compliment of eight squadrons of Dassault Rafales of the Royal Navy Air Corps, fifty-six jets, staffed by first tier knights of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit. Shadowing the Charles de Gaulle was the Principe de Asturias, of the Spanish Royal Navy, with a compliment of eight squadrons as well, again Dassault Rafales. Then there came eleven Marseilles class light cruiser, the study cruisers having proved there worth off the Azores. Sixteen Brest class frigates, also of proven worth, were dispersed amongst the fleet. Picket ships were present too, several dozen corvettes and light picket ships and so on. Le Marechal de Gras du Mont, hero of the 12th of June, sat in his command chair on the Roi de Soleil, battle tested and fire approved.

Taken altogether, this was twice the strength that had been applied to a much more modern and supplied Australasian fleet. And the Australasian Navy was supplied from near British and Quinntonian allies, who never left the Aussies side during the fighting. Even with all these benefits, the French Royal Navy had firmly taken the Darwin’s fleet. Considering these elements, that the Progressives were isolated where the Anglos were supplied on all sides, that the French were able to concentrate nearly 2/3 of their entire naval capacity against a single Progressive expeditionary force when they only had been able to put ½ against the British and Australasians combined (yes, the Spanish helped too, but the point stands), the Progressives would not be singing the Internationale for very much longer. Indeed, Versailles with a single stroke might very well secure the African theatre and force general ECOWAS surrender if it could smash the Progressives in twain.

Again, the Progressives, if they possessed any satellite data, and with Beth Gellert involved it was oh so likely they did, were now confronted with the massive heat plumes cutting through the Canary’s and aiming to sever them from what appeared to be a landing attempt at Dakar. They had a choice before them, as it were:

They could continue on towards to Dakar, knowing with each nautical mile they progressed, pun intended, they went that much further beyond the point of no return. Yes, Communist barbarians might find some succor in Dakar. But no one was fooled…victualing at Dakar paled in comparison to what aid the Soviets would have had in London, let alone Mumbai or Portmeiron. Even Namibia and, yes, even the Azores would most likely offer more help to the reds than Dakar could. So then it was with supreme confidence, having overcome opponents on the seas much tougher than those the French now faced and proven it under duress to the world itself, that the Royal Navy anticipated contact with the commies.

This was not the only hand that the Admiralty at Cherbourg played. While the main French fleet itself was slowly chugging through Canary Islands channels, a strike force of some five Nantes class attack submarines had already kicked their nuclear reactors into high gear and were zipping south parallel to Nouakchott. Their mission was to lay low to the north. Once one of the 3 French spy satellites that was closely watching the Progressive fleet confirmed that the reds were moving to a landing formation and setting ashore in Dakar, that would be the perfect opportunity for the Nantes subs to zip in and cause unbelievable havoc.

What was the caliber of the subcontinents admirals?

Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

The Switzers, fighting at night with their superior technology and training par excellance, do eventually end up controlling the capital of Burkina Faso. They lost 172 soldiers during Operation Heroic, not counting Huey Helicopters and other damages the rebels collected. Of these most were killed in the vicious defense of Ouagadougou International Airport, the remained falling to accurate enemy sniper fire and, in several cases, clever IED’s that belay conception of African ignorance and surprise the professional Swiss mercenaries. Yet being the professionals they are, the Switzers adapt and do not fall prey to the same attacks again. The African rebels show ingenuity, but it eventually becomes predictable due to their limited training.

All said, being of one of the seven Swiss Regiments, the finest soldiery in the Kingdom of France, they accomplish their mission only four hours behind schedule. Oberst Karl Weber sets up his headquarters in L’Hotel Mercure Silmande, near the debris strewn airport and far more strongly built than the former Government House. It is the structure with the most concrete in it in all Ouagadougou. Much like other former capitals that the French have liberated, the hotels are the strongest buildings around, and combined with their (relatively) pleasant interiors, they become HQs in no time at all. Supplies are dropped onto the airport from high altitude transports, the runway serving as an ideal pick up point if not yet landing zone.

The French control nearly the entirety of Ouagadougou, with the cities more solid and urbanized center firmly in hand and the outskirts less secured but at least with no active fire originating from them. Several suburbs on the extreme outskirts of the city are still in rebel hands, but for all intents and purposes, Ouagadougou is liberated.

Rebel fire from positions outside the city proper draws swift and terrible Mirage-2000, more likely Mirage III, air strikes right down upon them. Using Hercule anti-infantry scatter bombs, well proven for their effectiveness first in Lavrageria and with greater volume in Africa, rain down on the patches of shrub and shanty housing. Zulu attack helicopters, operating along with the Mirages in total air superiority, also zoom in, and with several surface to air missiles work on removing the VRLA jeeps sold to the Africans by wicked Republicans.

Meanwhile, and much more importantly, there is a stir of French cameras to the north. Three Medium Algerian Royal Army Divisions, 41,320 troops, supported by older Leopard tanks and armored carriers, have swept down from liberated Mali and into Burkina Faso. Under the command of High General Hashimi Jean-Pierre they slice through Ouahigouya. They cut directly south along the highway, and like a spear plunge south into Burkina Faso. Once they link up with the forces of Operation Heroic, ECOWAS will have been neatly and tidily chopped into parts.

San, Segou, Mali

Following a short halt in Mopti to organize a stable front, the Algerians and French plunge onwards towards Bamako. Six Algerian Royal Army Divisions, no less than 70,000 soldiers, form a line of advance that moves west to Segou itself. This force has a potent center, the 2nd Division of the Dauphin Corps, a group of crack Gardes Francaises who notched their belts in Lavrageria and are some of the most overall experienced forces in His Most Christian Majesty’s army. 14,000 strong and supported by a assemblage of AMX armored transports, fuel and supply armored trucks, and no less than 160 M-1 Abrams tanks (part of the 800 given to Louis-Auguste for the Dauphin Corps as a wedding gift to Tsar Wingert’s daughter Jillesepone), the force shakes the earth as it heaves forward.

One of the Algerian Divisions, the Biahmut mountain warfare division, brakes off from the main force in its solid advance and sets up a defensive position just south of San facing the hills where, it is rumored, ECOWAS rebels are hiding out. They will secure their post there at San, which obviously will be a major supply point which will be vital to continuing the offensive through Segou, past Bamako, and finally to Senegal, Guinea, Sierra Leone and victory.

Overhead they are supported by a motley but more than adequate number of Royal Algerian Air Force Mirage III’s, that sweep in low and with very good intel scatter bomb enemy positions. Moreover, one of the two French bomber wings currently assigned to the African theatre, the Cherubim based out of Fte. Ste. Joan in Laghouat, Kingdom of Algeria, pound enemy lines and obvious gathering points all along un-liberated Mali. 72 of the Roycelandian built strategic bombers using smart bombs, scatter bombs, and of course UGC to eliminate major formations in the face of the Franco-Algerian advance. Mirage-2000’s of the ODSE are made available as their escorts. Two squadrons of the wing, twenty four craft, are tasked solely with pounding important sites in Bamako: the power and water facilities, airport, government facilities and major telephone and information hubs. However the days of mass bombing cities is over, the attacks are kept to strictly military and military supportive targets. Needless to say some civilians will be killed in collateral damage, but it will be conspicuous to any one looking, especially from the use of expensive smart weapons, that the civilians themselves are no longer the target in any form.

Cote d’Ivoire

Operations intensify against Cote d’Ivoire with lighting air strikes against the remaining ECOWAS air forces, at least most of them it is hoped, at Yamoussoukro’s airfield. The strikes are conducted by the best French air forces in Africa at the moment, three squadrons of Rafales of the Silver Spurs Wing based in the freshly operational Arx (formerly Lome) airfield, which had not suffered all to much damage in the cities liberation. The thirty six craft screamed in and with laser guided accuracy intended to eliminate Cote d’Ivoire’s remaining airpower on the ground. If the enemy managed to sortie, however, or more likely escape, the elite pilots of the Silver Spurs, who had been biting at the bit to engage but were held back for an opportune time such as this, would have no trouble wiping the ECOWAS jets out of the sky.

Simultaneously the second wing of French bombers based in Africa, operating out of Lagos in Tsarist Nigeria, the Archangels began to rake fortified enemy posts around Yamoussoukro. It was much more intense than the assault on Bamako, yet like Bamako targets were kept only to military and military supportive elements. Likewise supported by a few Mirage-2000’s of the ODSE should ECOWAS have any tricks up its sleeve from high altitude they release tons of scatter bombs, UGC and smart weapons on what satellite shows to be a cornerstone of ECOWAS resistance.

The 32nd Division Gardes Francaises, III Corps, takes the Adzope road north to Burkina Faso and a southern link up. The air assault on Yamoussoukro, in addition to the offensive value it offered, was also designed to pin down and disrupt ECOWAS activity as the much desired link-up occurred. Le Marquis d’Huerin’s desire was not massive battles, but to complete the severing of ECOWAS into little bits. And his forces moved rather quickly, yet certainly no blitz, up the road in trucks and armored vehicles. After all, the majority of d’Huerin’s mobility was given to the 32nd’s advance as his other forces were dug in around Abidjan and had no need of quick moves at this point. Indeed, they were waiting for le Marechal de Gueret to break through Accra and relieve them from the east.

Fte. Ste. Joan, Laghouat, Kingdom of Algeria

The Tulgarian Expeditionary Force arrives at the nerve center of French Africa, one of the two remaining super-forts in France’s possession, the other being Ft. St. Martin in New Caledonia on Monday. Disembarking by train the Tulgarians are welcomed with a military band, an honor guard of the Royal Army Shirpa Corps, and le Marechal de la Tour du Pin, Supreme Commander of the Northern Theatre. Hundreds of cameras, still and video, record the proud occasion of Louis-Auguste’s valiant ally Tulgary walk the walk, and begin to reclaim their own glory diminished as years gone by. It is a festive occasion, with the French proud to show the world they had a fighting ally besides their immediate relatives the Spanish, both Bourbons, and the occasion was used to prop up an image of Holy League solidarity.

Le Marechal proudly welcomed with much clapping of shoulders the handsome Tulgarian allies of the Kingdom of France. He was heard to remark “These are the most handsome, toothsome, and wide shouldered soldier lads I have ever seen!” Indeed, they were. The Tulgarians were renowned the world over for their beauty, and the cameras soaked up the flower of Tulgary’s youth arriving alongside their French allies.

A delicate point, which would be explained to Colonel Merjain Huttler by le Marechal de la Tour du Pin over strong Arabic coffee after the arrival, was that Versailles, though supremely grateful at Tulgary’s assistance, was well aware that Luxembourg had no great desire to see Tulgarian troops, fresh, on the front lines. So the Marechal purposed something to everyone’s benefit. The Tulgarian Expeditionary Force would be given a week of crash combat courses for the African Theatre at the Forte’s excellent training facilities, and then be divided. The first element, which would be composed of the forces most experienced troops, would be formed into an attack Regiment of 2,000 soldiers, or however many the Tulgarians felt would be able to engage in the task. These troops would be sent to fight alongside the French advance through Mali, and eventually into Senegal.

Of course Luxembourg knew that, following the war, Senegal would be made a colony of Tulgary in exchange for the Papans’ much needed assistance. So having the troops there would be a perfect photo opportunity for the acceptance by the Archduke and restoration of Tulgary’s colonial holdings. Meanwhile the remainder of the Tulgarian forces, Gendarmes and police and such, would be stationed in Bejaia. They would work in the eastern Kingdom of Algeria to further train their skills and stand by (in the worst case scenario assisting the French and Algerian garrison in Libya made any moves to invade) until Senegal had fallen, at which time all Tulgarian troops en masse would be off to Dakar, to await the arrival of a brave new age, one in which Tulgary again would be a colonial power, as it had been the crucial element in forming the Holy League.

One thing was for sure. They would see mountains, indeed the Atlas Mountains were visible from Fte. Ste. Joan. And, in time, with la Marechal’s solemn promise: “You shall see as many real blacks as your heart could desire!”

Off Pointe Noire, Atlantic Ocean

There is little that can dampen the spirits of Indian sailors, even in light of Anglophone betrayal and the increasingly large numbers directed against their force. Indeed, the Union Admiral, Ali Khan Marakkar, wishes for nothing more than to perish in battle against the French enemy, and relishes the idea of engaging Louis-Auguste's battleships. Doubtless he would take all of them on in a torpedo boat if given no other option. And given his battle record, none would be surprised if the Marakkar managed to down at least one of the Frog dreadnoughts in the process. There is, though, no need whatsoever. Moving north from Namibia are no fewer than 56 Igovian, 2 Strathdonian, and 15 Unioner fighting ships. Included are five aircraft carriers, one of them a large fleet carrier, a modern light cruiser, and a bombardment-capable gunboat. With the exception of INS Cadiz, a destroyer dating from the end of the second world war, all the Indian warships are modern and capable. Unioners at least have probably more experience than the French, having fought Bonstockian battleships before in the Sakishimas not too long ago. And besides the combat force is the support fleet, itself quite large and inclusive of amphibious assault vessels as well as oilers and replenishment ships. Igovian nuclear-powered attack submarines prowl the waters as well, doubtless further towards the coastline and safely away from the main battlegroup. So far from a small, under-equipped expedition, the French face an enemy that is, in terms of numbers, superior, with a marked advantage in naval air capability. Instead of the frightened and apprehensive Indian squadron that they might have otherwise expected, the Frenchmen will find themselves confronted by an enemy that is ready, and eager, to fight, and one that is superbly trained and experienced. Anglophone powers can make their unclean agreements with the Holy League. The Indian fleet doesn't need Australasian or Walmingtonian fleets to provide support and succor, especially when they weren't expected to in the first place. Indians have every intention of fighting a French attempt to disrupt landings at Dakar or at anywhere else along the West African coastline. True, Dakar does have the best port facilities in the region, but the Indians are perfectly capable of landing their troops on a beach or at smaller ports.

French submariners might hope to give the Indians trouble, but their nuclear-powered Nantes-class boats have inherent disadvantages that make them hardly impossible to detect. Indeed, with some 28 vessels in the Indian fleet largely concerned with ASW work, the Frenchmen have their work cut out.

When battle comes, the Indians will not shy away from it. Victory or no victory, they'll not be accused of cowardice, that much is certain.

OOC: NG, the Princepe de Asturias is currently heading north, its with the rest of the Spanish Fleet

OOC- Must have missed that, you didnt announce it quite well. BTW, Spiz, when are you going to do a situation post about Spain? Been waiting a bit, and I think you need to update what is going on, especially your plans for Portugal, before you do any more 'big' moves.

Dakar, Senegal

Racing south, first across the deserts and later across Senegal itself, was a barely noticeable gray triangle. High above the landscape the triangular craft thundered at Mach 3 towards Dakar, miles above the surface, nearly touching the stratosphere.

It was the Dassault Martel, only one of two craft finally completed by the French State aerodynamic firm.

Dassault Martel (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/64/A-12_Avenger_Concept.jpg)

The Kingdom of France channeled the vast majority of its funding towards already developed craft, keeping the Mirage-2000 as the workhouse of the Ordu du Saint-Esprit, with a slow replacement scheme using the elite Dassault Rafale. Yet due to the necessity of wartime funding the majority of the Kingdom’s air fleet was still the Mirage-2000, with only several top-notch wings being provided with the Rafale, and for the duration of the war no replacements beyond that possible. However, despite the criticisms of such high-technology nations like Great Walmington, which fielded the superb Typhoon, the Kingdom of France had indeed been working covertly on advanced aeronautical designs.

Keeping with the tradition on the continental powers to come up with a few very good ‘wonder weapons’ to fight overall superior Anglo forces, the Martel was born. The project began in 1981, only one year after the Restoration under Louis XX itself. The goal of the project was to create a craft capable of sneaking behind the British radar and satellite field and hit strategic targets in Walmington. As France rearmed under the Restoration work on the stealth project was not forgotten. A project that would cost the United States of Quinntonia only 5 Billion USD ended up costing the Kingdom of France over seven billion dollars equivalent to the USD. A project that would take Quinntonia only five years to realize took the Kingdom of France over two decades.

The project was further hampered by only one location, the Royal Aeronautics Arsenal in Lille, being able to produce the specialized tools necessary for testing and construction of such an aircraft. On the project went, after the assassination of Louis XX and ascension of Louis-Auguste. It hit a success then. With the intense cooperation of the French Kingdom and Roycelandian Empire in the field of space programs French scientists at the Academie Royale finally got the mathematics right. Indeed, only Roycelandia and Tsarist Russia ever knew of the project existed outside of Versailles, and even they did not know exactly where French science was in constructing such a vehicle.

When the war came, Louis-Auguste’s War Minister le Duc de Broglie pushed for the theoretical crafts construction. Original plans called for constructing a squadron of twelve such craft, but again due to wartime restrictions of material and funding only two could be assembled. With Versailles breathing down the scientists and engineers of la Academie the project was finally built. By the fourth month of the war, the first Martel was turned out by Dassault in its main Lille factory. The second would be weeks away, with many vital systems still to be installed. But the one was ready.

And it was the completed Dassault Martel that zipped towards Dakar. The craft was a terror weapon. It was designed to zoom in under full stealth, attack key targets rapidly, and leave as soon as it appeared. This, so the theory went, would demoralize the enemy, who had no idea how and when the jet arrived.

So it was Dakar that received the test run of the magnificent aircraft, which according to the data was a stealthy as anything built by the Quinntonians, and just as capable. When it emerged from Mach Speed above Dakar in the dead of night it would sound an exaggerated sonic boom, the thinking being the same as the Stuka alarm system. It completed the descent from cruising altitude to attack in nine seconds. It hovered over Dakar for three seconds, like it was suspended in animation, though in the night sky none could make it out. As soon as it dropped from Mach, signaling the window-shaking boom, a hatch opened on its underside, releasing a shiny carousel loaded with six specially made 2,000 lbs. Laser guided bombs. The bombs, specially designed for the Martel, had depleted uranium tips, which would lets the bombs slide through any defense like a hot knife through butter. In blinding motion the carousel spun, the six bombs going nose down instantly and zipping perfectly guided by satellites to their targets: one for the cities Parliament House, two for its main and auxiliary electrical plants, one for its water treatment facility, and two again for the cities oil reserve depots. Five seconds after it exited Mach speed it accelerated to it again, climbing with impossible speed back towards the stratosphere and disappearing, but not before leaving a huge sonic boom as it departed.

Dakar, where the Progressive Fleet was aiming for, would be the first city to experience the terror of the Martel. The Kingdom of France had shown it was capable of conspicuous large scale bombings, but this secret strike should arouse even more fear in their enemies. With Versailles in possession of a stealth bomber, the message was clear that very soon even Mumbai and Portmeiron could become targets.

Burkina Faso

Fortunately for Burkinabe troops, they know better than to stick around and wait for the French to bombard them from the air. After mounting their attacks, high-speed raids on enemy infantry emplacements and concentrations, Burkinabe soldiers in their light trucks and jeeps zip off into the distance, moving very quickly over the relatively flat terrain. Most of the time French pilots don't have many targets to engage when they arrive over the scene of the battle, although when they do catch withdrawing raiding parties, there is still the threat of MANPADs and light AAA. While they might not be able to touch high-flying Lancasters or transports, Burkinabe anti-aircraft weaponry is perfectly adequate for dealing with enemy attack helicopters and fighters. France may therefore have air superiority, but Burkinabe troops are hardly denied freedom of movement just yet.

Ouagadougou's citizenry, although very much displeased over the second theft of their nation on the part of the French, stay indoors. There is, after all, a battle going on outside, and nobody is keen to die. Still, a handful irregulars use the urban landscape and their knowledge of it to mount hit-and-run attacks on mercenary patrols. As is the case elsewhere, the best of the irregular troops don't make a showing so early, and conserve their energy and ammunition supplies for action at a more useful time. French bombing does, though, claim the lives of hundreds of Burkinabe citizens when slum areas are hit. Of all the Burkinabe citizens, the impoverished are those who die in the greatest numbers during the battle, their makeshift homes going up in flames with terrible ease, and the French apparently holding little regard for the welfare of the slum inhabitants. Certainly, some will point out, it is not their fault for living in such terrible conditions, Burkina Faso having been denied, by a combination of government corruption, climatic factors, underdevelopment, and the colonial era's destruction of Burkinabe nationalism, a chance to succeed on the world stage. It will take very much on the part of the Frenchmen to convince the majority of Burkinabe citizens that the invasion and destruction of the Burkinabe state is something to be glad about.

The entry of French ground troops into Burkina Faso from Mali is not viewed as an entirely bad thing. Some four thousand Burkinabe regulars, members of the nation's only Armored Brigade, are on hand to challenge the incursion, and despite their being vastly outnumbered the Burkinabe troops engage the French column. Again using MANPADs and light AAA, as well as the country's only self-propelled SAM vehicles to fend-off air attacks, the Burkinabe brigade strikes at Ouahigouya. In an attempt to confuse the Frenchmen, each one of the eight Burkinabe battalions attacks along a different axis. Six focus on the town itself, while two, mounted primarily aboard jeeps and light trucks, sweep in on the road leading back into Mali. These battalions, moving faster than French tanks and light armor, and plan to destroy the most vulnerable part of the enemy column; its logistics train. Meanwhile T-55s and BMP-1s conduct a slow, methodical advance against the town, all the participant armor careful to minimize its exposure to French tanks and artillery. They are more concerned with delaying the French for as long as possible, and not so occupied with decisively defeating the enemy incursion.

((Few quick notes please while I am on. I didnt think I was bombing Ouagadougou at all, rather strikes on military targets in Bamako and Yassamakuoro, sp. no doubt. Wouldnt make much sense to bomb a city I actually occpied eh? And its Algerian troops per se invading from Mali. Just a note. Au revoir.))

The Tsarist Navy was on the move. With the new peace agreement with China in place, the various fleets had been ordered into new placements.

The Divine Russian Navy was now ready to take its place at the side of its French brothers. Although throughout the conflict Tsarist supplies has been escorted by the Divine Russian Navy’s Black Sea Fleet, and that would continue, but now the entire fleet would move into the Mediterranean in force. They would be strung out protecting HL shipping throughout the region, and Soviet ships of any type would not be allowed near any ship that they were protecting.

The Black Sea Fleet-
1 Kiev Class Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruiser (Aircraft Carrier)
1 Kirov Class Missile Battecruiser
1 Slava Class Cruiser
5 Kashin Class Destroyers
4 Sovremenny Class Destroyers
3 Udaloy I Class Destroyers
10 Krivak Class Frigates
5 Grisha III Class Corvettes

While this Fleet was working steadily, the mandate to protect the Black Sea was shifted to the Ukrainian Navy, who increased their patrols of the Black Sea and was to not allow any Soviet ships past the Bosporus at all.

Ukrainian Navy-
8 Kashin Class Destroyers
1 Kara Guided Missile Destroyer
5 Udaloy I Class Destroyers
10 Tarantul Class Corvettes
3 Hotel Class (Project 658) Nuclear Platform Submarines

Of Course, the North Fleet had returned peacefully from their sudden journey across the top of the world into Pacific waters, and received immediate orders to meet up with the Baltic Fleet, who were to leave their Corvettes behind as a defensive measure and sail south as quickly as possible to meet up with the Franco-Spanish Fleet that were heading to meet the Soviets.

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

And:

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


Thus, the Tsarist joined the conflict against the hated Soviets once again. The Tsarist nations had been borne out of the struggle with the Soviets and they would struggle again. Now some 71 Tsarist warships joined the force that was arrayed against the Soviets, who this far from home, would be faced in battle. Many of the Russians were quite excited to see the Gelletians in battle, and were relishing the opportunity.

Tsar Wingert the Great.

Ouhaigouya, Burkina Faso

High General Hashimi Jean-Pierre and his three Algerian divisions are not surprised at a rather desperate attempt by ECOWAS fanatics, who still seem to be terrorizing the decrepit land of Burkina Faso, to stop the Algerian liberators under Royal French auspices before they can reach the capital. As a matter of fact, it was more or less expected that ECOWAS would be forced to mount some counter-stroke against the mission to link up with Ouagadougou, and it was outright anticipated that they would throw in their armor into such a counter-attack before the vigilant French could hunt such vehicles down and send them to where Papa Africa rested.

So, in a classic enveloping maneuver, the 18th and 50th Royal Algerian Army infantry divisions allow the enemy troops to make fine progress into Ouhaigouya, entering into the town itself in their charge. The 18th and 50th then swing shut, and encircle the ECOWAS forces. When the enemy forces are in, several squadrons of Mirage-2000’s swoop in and blanket the small town in UGC and scatter bombs. Then ferocious fighting ensues as the Algerians, formed into attack brigades of their own, attack using an octagonal axis into the beleaguered town. However, the two Algerian divisions are 30,000 strong, and after the aerial bombardment are able to deploy their light 100 mm howitzers to support the assault against what is believed to only be a force of some three thousand Burkinabe forces. So after the napalm clears, and the now shattered town comes into view, fierce gun battles brake out.

The Algerians advance en masse into Ouhaigouya, their AK-47’s blazing all along the encroaching charge. Wherever heavy resistance forms, the location is called in, and within minutes artillery rains down on them. The ECOWAS soldiers have shown bravery, but foolishness too, as it would have been better for them to retreat to Senegal or Guinea perhaps. As it is, they have played into French and subsequently Algerian hands, who want nothing more than to destroy massed formations of ECOWAS troops. The encircled T-55’s are easy prey for the 32 Zulu attack helicopters supporting the mission. Several of the Zulus take anti-aircraft hits, but the sturdy beasts are able to land and repair. And though several crew members are killed or injured, no craft per se are destroyed. It is then a turkey shoot. With Burkinabe T-55’s crawling through the town, they are showered and destroyed by anti-vehicle missiles screaming down from the attack helicopters. Infantry from both sides battle in the flame enshrouded village, amidst the popping explosions of the ECOWAS armored force.

The ECOWAS rebels have more luck in their strike against the logistical column, with French Intelligence, which is operating at beyond capacity, having missed the data which displayed large armored and mobile elements in the Burkinabe force. The lightly armored jeeps and trucks slice past the encirclement maneuver, and engage an unsuspecting 23rd Royal Algerian Army Division. High General Hashimi is himself forced to fight from his Leopard tank. Initially the fanatics sweep in, and rake the long line of old trucks that serve as transports and supply vehicles with machine gun and light cannon fire. Here and there a truck explodes. All in all thirteen vehicles, nine trucks and four jeeps, are rendered inoperable. But within ten minutes the Leopards are active and themselves in formation. Shells and machine guns rake the Burkinabe attack column, forcing them no doubt to turn back against a mobile and operating armored force. If they stayed, they would be burned out and put under the tread.

The ECOWAS attack then would achieve some results. It delayed the unified column, although the 23rd with its Leopards and older AMX versions are hours after the attack again plodding their way south towards Ouagadougou. Where Burkinabe troops succeeded most was in the fact that they held down the 18th and 50th divisions. Although they would not take very many casualties due to overwhelming artillery, helicopter, and jet support the divisions would have to destroy the ECOWAS troops utterly, not intending to leave a force behind that could damage the vital logistical route. It would cost the unified column several days to regroup and continue the advance. In the final analysis this was perhaps a good thing however. With the armored tip and motorized infantry leading the way south, the Infantry divisions would follow in a fanning out maneuver, therefore hoping that nothing gets through the net.

Yet the advance continues, with Ouagadougou now relatively in sight. Once the link up occurred, it was only a matter of time before Cote d’Ivoire was linked, and the final push on ECOWAS could begin.

Kingdom of France

News of the Tsarist entry into the war in force is greeted with delirious enthusiasm in France. All over the Kingdom posters are thrown up which show Tsar Wingert standing in front of King Louis-Auguste and Queen Jillesepone holding hands above the four Bourbon-Wingert princes and princesses with a caption that reads One family, one alliance, one destiny, forever. Churches all over the realm are instructed to hold special Masses to pray for victory in the war, and pray for the welfare of mighty Tsar Wingert. At Versailles itself, the Tsarist double eagle is hoisted alongside the Fleur-de-lys, and Tsarist ambassador-extraordinary to the Court of St. Louis Count Falkenstein is given the honor a full review of the Garde Suisse. The review is held while the Garde Suisse military band triumphantly turns out “God Save the Tsar.”

At a special mass at Notre Dame de Paris, attended by the entire Royal Family, and packed to the brim with nobility and to a lesser degree Parisian citizenry, the Grand Almoner of France Prince-Cardinal Rohan gives the following homily:

“Four hundred and some years ago, the first Holy League was founded. At that time the Orthodox powers of Europe, Catholic and Eastern, united to defeat an oriental invasion that threatened to eliminate Christianity and decency from Europe forever. The Holy League, the first, then engaged the great fleets of the eastern hordes at the Battle of Lepanto, and crushed them utterly. Consequently, Christendom held.”

“Today, our Holy League finds itself in a similar position. Many held doubt that a French fleet alone could turn back the communist demons. That fear is now allayed, allayed by the Almighty Hand of God! Our Savior, Our Lord Jesus Christ, has acted in the world, and now a Holy League fleet united shall sail to victory. Like the Holy League of old, we shall smash these Marxist trolls, God is even now setting the stage for a new Lepanto! Together, Tsar and Most Christian King shall destroy this evil armada utterly.”

“And, dear brothers and sisters, final victory is now in sight. With peace ascending into Europe, and a mighty and holy fleet gathering to crush this evil invasion, the war, by the Hand of God, shall soon be over. We shall have peace in our time, and the Restoration shall have been completed. God save the Tsar! Vive le Roi!”

After the parishioners echoed the chants, the orchestra and choir struck up a Te Deum, and the bells of Notre Dame rang out.

Canary Islands

Le Marechal de Gras du Mont received the dispatch from the Admiralty in Cherbourg. He was stunned, hope beyond hope!

The French fleet then halted their progress at the Canary Islands, on full alert nevertheless. His Most Christian Majesty’s Royal Navy set about turning the Canary Islands into the supply depot for a grand campaign southwards against the heathen. While satellite and radar data made sure there would be no surprises, transport ships from the continent brought in supplies of Exocet missiles and artillery rounds. The fuel depots were filled up with French tankers, for the most part bearing Russian oil. Multiple SAM installations dotted the Island chain.

After the organization, the French fleet awaited the Tsarist coup de gras. Le Marechal de Gas du Mont also ordered the fleet to hoist the proud Tsarist naval cross under the maritime Fleur-de-lys, and set about getting in contact with his valiant Russian counterparts to further plan what Versailles was calling “Lepanto II.”

Oriya Soviet State, Indian Soviet Commonwealth

MT-4 Hathi (elephant) battle tanks, pride of the Guard and perhaps the most powerful armour on earth, CICV and CAPC vehicles of the latest generation and certainly world-leaders, trucks for miles, and, less impressive to look at, more beaten-up old Land Rovers than in Britain and Strathdonia combined. They rumbled along a fine public road, maintained by the phalansteries dotted along its great length, electric share-cars whistling by on their way to or from the university towns near by. The way lined with near-silent and highly-efficient wind-turbines for an impressive twelve miles across this plane. One of the world's largest nuclear power stations looms in the distance.

Every few miles the fields change from one crop to another and the next pantisocratic phalanstery comes into view, its elaborate facade testifying to the skills of the residents while anti-aircraft gun-barrels and surface-to-air-missile radar masts sprout from amongst waiting or taken harvests of rice and tea.

A community of travellers was pulled-up at a colony to offer services as metalworkers and sooth-sayers, and, having found success, was dragged in its entirety on a sampling tour of the local brewery, maintained by a community elder.

The column of Guards rolled over a painted fleur de lis that had appeared on the road, then passed the likely artist as she daubed a wall with a cartoon depicting a rat-like Royce under the French dinnertable, her style nodding to the arrival of Spyrian pop-culture in the awareness of some young Soviettes.

This Commonwealth... this is the India that goes to war with old, old Europe.

At sea

Soviet forces, though they make-up the bulk of the international fleet and though they sit upon fine modern warships with great arsenals, and though they have long and high-quality training at their backs, are relatively inexperienced in battle upon the high seas. The Principality was discouraged from maritime adventurism after a few sharp defeats for the Indian Royal Navy by the young Indian National Navy, and the most worrying opponents for the formative Commonwealth were the Armandians in North Sienna, the Sinoese in China, and the Roycelandians in Goa, so it was not until quite recently that the Commonwealth Oceanic Guard became India's biggest navy. Mere skirmishes with France and Roycelandia represent the fullness of the COG's experience.

A vote in the fleet Soviets confirms a committment on the eve of possible battle to following the command of the Union contingent's lead officers. Forty frigates, a guided-missile cruiser, an armoured gun boat, three light carriers, a fleet carrier, two LPDs and two more huge amphibious transports, numberous oilers, ammunition and stores ships, and minesweepers, four SSGNs (possibly the quietest -if not the fastest- on earth, with captains keen on electric drive), half a dozen stealthy SSK (with capital torpedoes), and a good 72 stealthy strike-fighters, not to mention scores of helicopters and a couple of thousand Marines and Lusakans. Not counting the INN and Strathdonian elements, already probably the biggest force a Union Admiral had ever lead!

"Calm, comrades! Save it for some made-up Eurotrash!"

Not the first fight that the Sergeant had disrupted since leaving Windhoek, and not likely to be the last as Marines spoiled for battle and the ships scrawled all too slowly towards hostilities. Talk of Russian involvement lead some to speculate on the possibility of being made to wait for reinforcements before crushing two Christian navies at once.

"Give me a liferaft! I'll row ashore and run to the battle! Comrades are dyign and we're on a f***ing cruise!"

"Stop him! He's got an oar!"

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Subhash! We clipped that one!"

A screen of white, spray and vapour kicked up from the Atlantic, visible for miles and an indicator to the fleet's rear-guard... here comes the cavalry, hooves pounding the dust, trumpets sounding the charge of the Indian, no less.

Two hundred knots plus, below most radar, inches from death, the WIG section bore down on akar, arriving easily ahead of the enemy, prepared to spit missiles at anything within six-hundred miles.

37mm autocannon readied but held fire on expectation of a friendly greeting. 2,500 Soviet Marines -the bravest, the WIG Section, always risky even in peace-time- with complete mechanisation would land under cover of cannon, cruise missile, torpedo, and surface-to-air missile. Their rides would quit the scene within a couple of hours and head back to the Namibian Soviet State.

What could be the aim of a mechanised regiment with no immediate resupply and no rear-area? Ask any of its members and they'll tell you nothing less than the establishment of a West African Soviet Commonwealth, of course!

"If we run out of bullets I have a sword! If we run out of food the French have escargot and no tomorrow on which to eat it! If we run out of fuel I'll get out and push! La Sociale!"

An unfair advantage. That was the Wing In Ground-effect, man!

The Namibian Reserve Auxiliary Troops were very impressed with their new uniforms and guns. The Roycelandian officers that had provided them were also training them in their use, in their own tongue, no less.

"Line up the notch of the "V" with the front sight post, and aim for the centre mass... just squeeze the trigger thusly, and..."

BANG!

"You'll see that you have a dead Soviet target."

The Namibians were being issued with SLLE Mk III* rifles- unlike the regular SLLE Mk III, the Mk III* had no 3-shot burst option, being semi-auto only- and, when anyone asked why, the short answer was "To save Namibia from the Soviets".

There were several dozen Imperial Foreign Legionnaires in the country, too- training resistance against the Soviets, sharing military tactics, and providing arms and equipment. There were even rumours that the Namibian Government would be given Spitfires and Harriers with which to fight the Soviets... and fighting the Soviets had taken on a new importance for Roycelandia of late, especially in her own back yard, so to speak.

((Heya. I didn’t mention the fleet and such, I figure the next move is basically up to LRR, as the Holy League has pretty much stated its business.))

Paris

The Paris Zoo had a smashing new attraction.

Fresh from the Bastille the last remaining Geletian captured in New Caledonia years ago was ready for his moment in the sun. He had been a strapping young lad, always braying about “Communism” and “Down with (fill in as desired).” Now that the Kingdom of France was about to on a large scale engage the Soviet scum with their Tsarist brethren it was decided that the good people of Paris should see their enemy in a up close and personal way. Moreover, thought la Marechaussee, they should see a pathetic animal worth only of contempt and utter hatred.

Of course Igovian POW’s in the past had been notoriously uncooperative. Just look at the attempted assassination of Larionko Aidarov! This one would be different of course, he had been made much kinder. Surgeons at the Bastille were first thinking to cut the vocal cords, but that would spoil his braying about. He couldn’t be allowed to remain smart though. Too risky. In the end, they came up with a happy solution: the former Geletian marine was given a total frontal lobotomy!

Consequently he just mulled about his cage, the surgery scars hidden behind his thick head of hair. He drooled a lot, and shambled around the clean enclosure naked. A plaque above the exhibit listed his scientific order for the good people of Paris: Communistis Grotesqueus. He made barking noise when, throughout the day, electric probes jolted him to the clapping of the audience.

An adorable little girl had just bought a tiny box of sardines, her parents having given her a few copper coins of the realm to do so.

“Mommy, please! Please, can I feed it just once?”

The mother, a worker in the Paris Gardening Guild, smiled on warmly. “Just a few dear, go on then!”

With squeals of delight the little girl threw a few sardines into the cage. Up came the Geletian, drooling and barking from the electric probes. He gobbled up the sardines, guts, heads, and all ravenously. It was, after all, the only food he got. The family clapped, and took a few pictures. Sauntering up to them came a manager at the Zoo.

“Like ‘em, eh? Word is well get some new ones in soon. Maybe we can breed a few so as to send them to other Zoos.”

Delightful!

Mauritania, Fort Trinquet

Continuing the many-pronged assault into dieing ECOWAS, four fully motorized divisions of the IV Corps, recently arrived in the Kingdom of Algeria, passed through the dry and flat plains of Mauritania. The Spanish Royal Army and Moroccan Sultanate provided the logistical support his far west, but the troops were French.

Force D was the most mobile force currently fighting in Africa. Seeing that peace would soon be achieved with the Anglo powers, the Kingdom of France was now preparing to pour more and more troops into it’s rightful domains. With the threat of naval interceptions in the Western Mediterranean also negated by forthcoming peace as well, veritable lines of French transports were free to bring vital war material from Marseilles to Algiers.

One division, similar to the one smashing west from liberated Mali, was a detachment of the Royal Dauphin Corps, and like the force to the east contained some 150 M-1 Abrams tanks. General Gerard de Chantel sous Bois commanded the force, which beside the heart of the Dauphin Corps detachment contained two divisions of Gardes Francaises, motorized, and one general armored cavalry division, which included two brigades of Leclerc battle tanks, two brigades of AMX-30’s and other assorted armored vehicles, and the vast numbers of transports and fuel trucks required to keep the column on the march. All said it was the most expensive and armored single force yet operating in the African Theatre.

General de Chantel sous Bois was a top graduate of Saint-Cyr, the royal military academy, and a close colleague of Monsieur le Marechal de Gueret, who was currently plowing west with the main French force through Accra. Gerard was given the honor of playing France’s last major hand in the war. ECOWAS, cut off, now was swept round from the western back side, all retreats slowly being cut off.

Needless to say the arrival of communist marines in Dakar only heightened the necessity for General de Chantel sous Bois’ maneuver. So the column thundered south, Mirages flying overhead. They would make for the capital first, and final victory afterwards.

Niamey, Niger, Tsarist Nigeria

It had finally happened.

The first major link-up of the French effort in Africa. With hundreds of news crews imported for the occasion, the first convoy from Algiers moves south through Niamey to Benin. Their arrival in Arx is greeted with delirious enthusiasm, the war cannot be much longer now. Especially with the French now free to send more and more of their troops over, the writing is on the wall.

The allies now have a solid line cutting all through Eastern ECOWAS, with supplies and all material able to move along the route. French State Television trumpets the success, indeed it is the greatest sign of French victory so far in the war. Things begin to free up, with fine chow and ammo flowing all along the French and Holy League lines. With the IV Corps now having begun to arrive in force at the Kingdom of Algeria, this means that the number of French troops in Africa was now moving up to around 300,000 troops. In this number were elite mercenaries, the crack Royal Vanguard Legion, and about 180,000 screaming Gardes Francaises.

No propaganda was needed to display this glorious success.

Fte. Ste. Joan (Jeanne), Kingdom of Algeria

It was a chilly night, and the stars were bright. News that the reds had just landed in Dakar was making its way around. They would get a royal reception.

Fury V long range cruise missiles had been used mainly during the Lavragerian War by the Kingdom of France. They were proven to be very effective, destroying the city of Ulanger. Now they would be turned against Dakar, to let the Soviet Marines know that Louis-Auguste sends his warmest regards.

So at a little past minuit on the day the Soviets landed huge lances of fire launched upwards from the nerve center of French Algeria. In the course of the night over two hundred of the missiles would zip towards Dakar, exploding a combination of high explosive, UGC, and shrapnel payloads. Guided to their targets by satellite operators in the bunkers of the Forte, the cruise missiles hit their targets with unwavering accuracy. So as the Geletians went to wherever posts they were going to take, the whistling missiles would come smashing down around them. If the power plants and water treatment facility and government complex had survived the daring raid of the Martel, they would surely be dismayed by the copious cruise missile strike.

The missiles came in waves throughout the night, a truly impressive bombardment. Every time one of the cigar shaped destroyers lifted off to slay the reds, and no doubt, unfortunately, a great many of Dakar’s residents, French and Algerian troops would let out a great cheer yelling “love and kisses” to the Maoists and “save some for us” to the missiles.

Again and again the missiles would crash into the city, only hours after the communists landed. They may have thought to have some time off when they arrived, they were wrong.

They would soon be educated that this was a war that gave no quarter, and soon they themselves would be dead or in the Paris Zoo.

Dakar

A fireworks display! A warm greeting was expected, but this was too much!

Loviatar anti-missile missiles gave a more impressive show than unguided Lavragerian flak, and the Furys played their part in colouring the sky when exploded by the interceptors, which included WIG-borne and to a lesser degree the first of the unloaded battlefield-defence batteries.

Still, the Soviet interception net was designed to protect the WIGs and the mechanised regiment they bore, and the attack was designed to cripple a city. The imbalance caused many deaths and the city's vital infrastructure was beyond the salvation of the Sovietists, who themselves took several casualties, the first against the French in this leg of the conflict.

Senegal was, of course, the loser, but ignoring ECOWAS and thinking only in terms of us vs. them, the Soviets judged that the barrage was costing the French more than it was costing the Indians.

Still, the Marines were left to wonder whether their presence in built-up areas was too great a hazard for the locals and the already ruined nations of West Africa. Some recruits began to set-up work teams, compelling locals to engage in a bit of makeshift Sovietism and public works, but as the WIGs expended their armouries and began to pull-out the elected officers voted on a speedy departure from Dakar, at least for the bulk of their force.

Ammunition and advice was handed-out to the locals, and a handful of Sovietists -including those wounded in the missile strikes- would remain in the city, but the main force was sending out scouts and turning-over engines before dawn broke.

OOC-Wow! That section on the zoo is truly disturbing. You have a pretty drak and twisted side to your personality, Jean.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC- Watched too many movies I suppose, maybe too much Fellini/Pasolini? Still, I wadger the Geletian is far happier, being well cared for, than some thousands of Christians crucified on in the DPRDP. I figure if Igovians can capture missionaries, throw poison in their face recorded by a digital camera, a little turn about is fair play. Its all in good fun, sah.

OOC-Well, OK, but the pioson and crucifixions just show them to be little better than savages, this was...well thought out.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Hey, that was a funny joke! Nobody got hurt!

**OOC** Yes, comrade commissar, all a bit of fun? Hmm? I must say I enjoyed your "Sooo, Quintonnian..." post. I'm glad we have chefs in AMW that are good with 'spicy seasoning', for both red and white sauces!

Anywho, this is just a line drop, I am afraid that we really cant go on in Africa until LRR gets back to ECOWAS, any more moves wouldnt be fair. Damn it all! --Raises fists to sky-- I finally get some time to RP and relax on my vacation, and the most critical player for my most critical RP ever is vacationing elsewhere! LRR...come on home, y'hear!

Dakar

Certainly the sight of French IRBMs exploding in the air, and not on the heads of defenseless and impoverished civilians, is a new one in West Africa. Residents of Dakar step outside to watch as Lovitar missiles engage the enemy rockets aimed at the city's civilian population, and cheer loudly each time a Soviet missile finds its mark. If there was ever any doubt in Raipur as to the kind of reception that the Soviet marines would receive in West Africa, surely it is erased during their first night in Dakar. Finally an ally has arrived that has the technology and the experience to fight the hated Frenchmen on more equal terms. Morale soars even in the wake of the bombardment, Soviet confidence and fighting spirit serving to inspire Senegalese soldiers who might have previously doubted their chances against the numerically and technologically superior French invaders.

French stealth bombers go entirely unnoticed in Dakar. When enemy Lancasters are, at least as far as Senegal's own military is concerned, untouchable, it hardly makes sense to use a stealth aircraft as a terror weapon. The Martel's utility in battle is likely to be very much limited. It could not safely be used for a propaganda raid on the Indian subcontinent, that much is certain. OTH early warning radar networks watch land and sea borders, and are entirely capable of detecting stealth aircraft. No doubt Unioners would be happy to destroy a piece of equipment costing the French hundreds of millions of dollars with a Golkonda, or even a Springer, costing perhaps not even one percent of what the French spent on their supposed terror weapon.

Of course, in the morning, much of the night's enthusiasm is lost as the death toll from the Fury strike is counted.

A convoy of around thirty trucks, mostly commandeered civilian vehicles, is put at the Soviets' disposal. Senegalese commanders recommend that the marines move east, towards the border with Mali, where they will certainly see combat against a strong Franco-Algerian army massing for an assault on Bamako.

Niamey

Nigeriens watch the Franco-Nigerian link-up with disgust and derision. Once again they find themselves the property of a European power, and a particularly disagreeable one at that. But it is not so much a great victory as it is the inevitable result of the conditions imposed on ECOWAS. Niger, one of the poorest nations and one of the poorer ECOWAS members, itself an association of largely economically disadvantaged nations, could not really ever have hoped to make much of an impression on the French by themselves. Nigeria threw hundreds of thousands of regulars at an army numbering not far over ten thousand, and lacking heavy weaponry. How could they have lost? And after mocking and insulting passing French and Nigerian soldiers, most Nigeriens have to get back to the much more urgent business of finding enough food to eat. Niger's independence had been stolen, the nation pushed face-first into the mud in its time of greatest need, and there isn't much anybody can do about it in the short term. Guerrilla units do not expose themselves, keeping their weapons caches and their intentions carefully hidden until such time as a general rising might be possible. Occupation troops will not, after all, be able to cover very much of the nation, with its massive geographical area and wide expanses of desert. Many highly-mobile guerrillas will without a doubt be able to escape notice. Perhaps someday they will be the vanguard of West Africa's liberation.

Ouahigouya

The result of the battle in Ouahigouya does not surprise anybody. Burkinabe soldiers fight hard, with the determination of men fighting for the survival of their homeland. Poorly-trained Algerian conscripts will find themselves faced with an unexpectedly capable enemy, one able to turn into the increasingly ruined town into an increasingly defensible position, and with no intention of retreating. With recoilless rifles and Milan ATGWs, Burkinabe soldiers hunt enemy tanks amongst the ruins, while their own T-55s and BMP-1s engage French light vehicles and APCs, quite vulnerable to their main guns. Enemy attack helicopters do take a heavy toll on these vehicles, despite the presence of Burkinabe MANPADs and light AA machine guns, the former more than capable of bringing-down a French-operated Zulu, and before long the vehicles that haven't been destroyed are abandoned by their crews.

But it is not a winning fight for the Burkinabe forces. The brigade is, over the course of the better part of the day, destroyed, with only a few dozen men able to break-out into the countryside.

North of the city, the advance of enemy Leopards does not particularly disturb the Burkinabe raiders. They do not, after all, come especially close to the enemy column, raking it instead with 23mm ans 12.7mm fire from relatively long range. Burkinabe mortar teams briefly dismount from their vehicles and fire a few rounds on the enemy column, but do not stick around. Within minutes much of the Burkinabe column is retreating at high speed, towards the border with Mali. The last vehicles remaining are the jeeps and light trucks mounting recoilless rifles. These crews, confident in their weapons' ability to penetrate even the frontal armor of the Leopard 1, cover the retreat of the rest of the columns by engaging the enemy tanks. Constantly changing position, and protected from air attack by MANPAD crews, they hope to destroy at least a few enemy tanks without they themselves being hit.

All the while, Burkinabe engineers along the route to Ouagadougou work to destroy road and rail lines. Ambush positions are prepared for the French column that will doubtless advance towards the capital in short order, and hopefully this will give forces around Ouagadougou itself time enough to disengage from the enemy paratroopers and make for the Guinean border.

Southeast of Mopti, Mali

In their haste to advance into Burkina Faso, the French, it now seems, bypassed a divisional-strength element of the Malian Army in place just south of Mopti. 11,000 regulars, plus TR-125 main battle tanks and a fair amount of artillery, now find themselves behind French lines, their position having been ignored. Certainly this is an opportunity for causing a bit of havoc along the enemy lines of communication, and not one that the Republic of Mali can afford to pass up.

At about noon, the Malian division sets out in no fewer than ten columns. The lead two contain about half of Mali's fleet of TR-125s, accompanied by Panhard M3s. Another two columns are made up of AML-90s and supporting Land Rovers, while the remainder consist of trucks and jeeps. These transport the 11,000 Malian regulars towards Mopti, a town that now seems to be rather sparsely guarded with the departure of major French units south and west. The AML-90s and Land Rovers, meanwhile, travel east, making for the single paved road between Gao and Mopti, where it is thought there must be at least a few enemy logistical columns worth raiding. This force is, unlike other ECOWAS armies, supported by six Romanian-made IAR-316 light helicopters. Malian troops won't be caught off-guard by enemy troop concentrations or movements with the countryside watched by helicopter-borne observers. A quartet of L-39s also takes off from a small forward airstrip, heading straight for Gao with cluster bombs. Flying extremely low, the pilots expect to avoid detection on the part of the enemy, and with the focus of the battle moving west they count their chances of success as high.

Yamoussoukro

Enemy air raids notwithstanding, things are not going altogether badly for James Malinke and his division. He has a strong defensive position in the Ivoirian capital, artillery, and plenty of supplies, and casualties from French bombardment have been light. Even so, by remaining in Yamoussoukro, Malinke invites the French to run rampant across the whole of the country. Some kind of decisive action needs to be taken, and that much is apparent. Choosing the capital as his headquarters had seemed logical when the enemy was in the interior of the country, when the enemy was the various rebel groups destabilizing Cote D'Ivoire. Yamoussoukro is a very bad place to be in light of the French invasion, it not being situated along any terribly major road lines and probably more easily bypassed than outright taken. With the enemy in complete control of the air, any kind of movement is risky, although he has more SAM equipment at his disposal than most other ECOWAS commanders.

Two Senegalese battalions are sent towards Issia in Haut-Sassandra in a very widely spaced-out column of pickup trucks while, at the same time, frantic radio messages are traded with Conakry. At the same time ECOWAS troops mount longer and more aggressive patrols out of the capital, mostly along the roads leading to the south. Ambushes are set as roadside trees, overpasses, and bridges are all rigged for demolition.

Most of Malinke's small air force is destroyed in the enemy air raids, with the key exception of his two Mi-25s and four Fokker F-27s. With the French destination, Bouake, now known, the Ghanaian general is determined to put its airfield out of use.

In the early evening, just after the departure of an enemy fighter force, the four transports take off, and not from the airfield but rather from a stretch of road. Aboard each aircraft are 20 Ivoirian paras, brutal men, who Malinke does not feel bad about sending on what is probably a suicide missions. The pilots, of course, are a different story. All volunteers, they are some of the best in West Africa, and they'll need all their abilities for the night's task. The two Mi-25s also take to the air, and also from a stretch of roadway. Drop tanks hang from their inner wing hardpoints, although they will likely not need them. Malinke's ramshackle raiding force does indeed leave the earth's surface, but by no great margin. At great risk all six aircraft fly just above the treetops with all their lights off. At such an altitude there is no margin for error, and the pilots pay attention to everything. Indeed, a few Paras are even called forward to help watch for dangers. But at least the French will be very hard pressed to detect their approach, and the FN militiamen in Bouake itself won't know what hit them.

It will not take them much more than an hour to reach Bouake, not long by any standard but perhaps long enough for the Frenchmen to intercept them.

Off Ghana, Atlantic Ocean

After an annoying long voyage from Luderitz, Indian warships finally arrive in theater. They are careful to stay well offshore, and Nigeria is given a very wide berth. Nobody is much afraid of lumbering enemy bombers, but the Indian commanders do not want to be hit by a swarm of enemy fighter-bombers so early in the game. Although there is still some uncertainty over the issue, in all probability the Indian fleet will make for Conakry, and not Dakar, as was initially the intention. The presence of French warships in the Canary Islands leaves Dakar somewhat exposed in the minds of Union admirals, who would rather have a more southerly, and thus more easily resupplied beachhead. Doubtless the Indian and African troops will get to Mali on the same timetable, all ten thousand or so.

When the Indians pass Dabou, logistical base for French operations, they fire a salvo of Mangonel cruise missiles, some 90 in all, and the greatest amount of them from the Commonwealth cruiser Ood. The French aren't the only ones with reconnaissance satellites, after all. In sharp contrast to the French use of their launched ordnance, the Indian cruise missiles are directed at solely military targets, namely the enemy supply dumps. Unless they are shot down, that is where they will go. The fleet did not arrive in West Africa to kill West Africans, so target identification procedures are very strict. The effort is aided by the fact that much of Dabou's population had cleared out prior to the enemy landings, of course. Other positions identified as French in nature are targeted, and, hopefully, the strikes will yield some positive results for the embattled ECOWAS forces.

London

The peace process that had been much anticipated by the people of Britain had suddenly taken a rather unwholesome turn. Reports of French cruelty in the Paris Zoo, coupled with the naked launch of ballistic missiles upon civilian targets, was greeted with outrage. Trafalgar Square was filled with protesters, banners reading "Beat Drake's Drum, Send the Dons and Frogs to Hell" were the messages of the hour. Parliament was deadlocked on the issue of peace, with a significant majority calling for renewed war with the entire League. If Australasia would be content to join in, the SEATO members would be obliged to assist.

And oh, the image of Carrier Group Mark laying waste to a Tsarist squadron was delicious indeed. But the Mainwaring government was firm, this was not our war. The French were content to return Gibraltar and stop shooting at us, so we should return the courtesy. The recent atrocities would figure in negotiations, Mainwaring promised before Houses in a speech delivered the afternoon after the missile attack. The French would not be permitted to murder innocents and perform lobotomies upon prisoners of war.

The other option was not discussed, at least by the ruling government. However, much of the Conservative Party debated--quietly-- the merits of attacking the French coast while the fleet was engaged with the Soviets. The Tsarist navy wasn't much of a bother, its old, small carriers combined equaled roughly a single fleet carrier's worth of fighters, while the frigates and destroyers were no more capable than a Type 42 or 23, certainly no match for half a dozen Type 45s. The French would have a difficult time extricating themselves from the massed Indians, who were proving to be doughty and seamanlike in the best traditions of the British Empire. Perhaps they should be offered membership?

Indian National Union

Certainly Unioners' opinions of the Walmingtonians and Australasians are at a low point following the cease-fire with France and her allies. But such a move was not entirely un-anticipated. Though the opening of several missile plants in the INU suggested otherwise, the West was only in the war for Gibraltar and Portugal, and if France limited the conflict to Africa then perhaps even India would have been content to limit its involvement. Once Portugal and Gibraltar are returned to their prewar states, there is no longer an immediate reason for the western republics to involve themselves. With France the victor in West Africa and with the Holy League dominant in Eastern Europe, Great Walmington's position in Europe will doubtless be threatened. What, say Union diplomats, will keep the League from trying again? The arbitrary invasion of Hungary seems to demonstrate the League's disregard for national sovereignty, even that of European nations, fairly clearly. But as far as Unioners can tell, Australasia and Walmington do not want any more to do with an undoubtedly long and expensive third world war, which seems ready to take-on another ugly front in the form of Soviet-Roycelandian conflict.

For Indians, at least, negotiation is still out of the question, and will be for as long as French combat troops remain in West Africa. Additional war provisions are approved by Parliament, which now finds itself not entirely averse to the idea of a million-man army. The Merchant Navy is reactivated, and the INU's considerable fleet of commercial vessels is put at the disposal of Parliament and the Indian Navy. A pair of small container ships arrive at Diu for conversion into helicopter carriers while elsewhere on the island-turned-shipyard new corvette hulls are laid down. The IN's last two Bodkins, Bahadur and Sawaj, are finally afloat as well, and shipyard workers are employed in round-the-clock shifts to fit them out for battle. Once completed they will join INS Vajra, Rakshak, and Trishul in the home fleet, as a counter to imperialist aggression in the Indian Ocean. But the most important launching is by far that of INS Sindhudurg, the Indian Navy's largest domestically-built warship. Fitted with heavy torpedoes, the cruiser's express purpose is the destruction of imperialist dreadnoughts, and, along with INS Derawar, the IN's cruisers will be sent into battle at the soonest possible opportunity.

((Gurg, can you link the peace thread, cannot seem to find it.))

Marseilles

A massive statue of bronze, a hundred feet tall, representing the militant and glorious Christ, stood proudly above the vastly expanded Restoration navy facilities built alongside the second largest military station in France. In one hand the magnificent Christ held aloft a sword of silver, in the other an upraised Cross of gilt gold, representing that the Lord had conquered both the earth and salvation. Resting on his robed legs was a copper shield emblazoned with the fleur-de-lys. A dais had been erected at the status feet, with the Kings golden throne suspended on porphyry, shaded by a massive dome of purple cloth decorated with thousands of golden fleur-de-lys. His heralds stood at the feet of this awesome spectacle, trumpets at the ready. The Garde Suisse were in perfect formation, ceremonial rifles held abreast. Along the highway, shepherded by white horsed Swizters, came the carriage majestical.

It was under this glorious monument to the French Restoration that the hundred thousand troops of the VI Corps stood crisply at attention, regimental banners of white and blue snapping in the wintry wind. They were very soon to be shipped to the war in Africa, as the War Ministry would show these rebel and communist scum that the Kingdom would send as many brave sons and martyrs as needed to prod the foul devils back to the depths of hell.

In combat dress the lines stood at attention, and then the carriage rolled to the throne. Out stood His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste, in all his finery. In robes of stain and crown of gold he mounted the throne, whereupon the heralds let play their trumpets and the assembled army hollered out “Vive le Roi!”. Thrice they hollered their salute, thrice the rifles were raised, and thrice the trumpets rang out. The King was in his finest form, projecting power like the sun. It flowed from him, and rested on his shoulders. At the conclusion of the allegiances, the military band struck up the Te Deum with brass and kettle drums.

Following the anthem a formal Mass was given to the troops, in the lightsome shadow of the magnificent Christ. Readings from Isaiah exhorted the men to face their difficulties “for only the righteous ascend the Hill of the Lord.” A reading from St. Paul was read to remind the men that they were brothers, comrades in arms, and like a great family served the divine will of the King (understood to mean Jesus, but the analogy was of course not very subtle). And the Gospel, the Gospel reading, it was simple and well known verse, along the lines of “for if God is with us, who can be against us.” It was a moving mass, given by the Papal Nuncio. As a sign that the Most Christian King also was endowed with the Orders of the Priesthood, Louis-Auguste would give the homily as a message to his troops. He spoke powerfully, and it must be said this was one of his finest showings, the religiosity and militancy of the occasion resembled something divine.

“Dear brothers, we have heard today of our God and His excellent works. You must be anxious at this moment, hearing such sweet words as you embark to fight Communism and Satanic influence in Africa. Take heart!”

“For the Lord hears you! Has he not send one of his own, one of his anointed, to lead you? As a Lieutenant of God, I urge you to fight not just to save le Patrie, although we must fight for that too, but to preserve Christendom from the heathen! God save Tsar Wingert! God save Caear Maximus! God save King Philip, and God save Us!”

It was odd indeed to hear thunderous a “Vive le Roi” echo doing the homily of a Mass, but that was Restoration France for you!

“God deliver us from the evil we face! God grant His own Lieutenants the power to vanquish the heathen, the infidel, and demons! March into history, Christian soldiers. March into history, sons of France. March into history, children of my own blood, and save the troubled land of Africa! Listen not to mewling bankers and corrupt lawyers, those who would sell le Patrie out to the whore of Babylon, to the sluts of Beth Gellert! Let not the fair daughters of France be ravished by perverted pseudo-capitalists and open Communist wolves!”

“Stand up, I say! Don your armor now!” His Most Christian Majesty was flushed, and had the audience hanging on his every word. His hands rose, his breath waxed and waned, he used his Hand of Justice like a rhetoretician’s wand. “Hearken unto the immortal, brave lads, hearken unto the Cross of Our Lord, and the Crown of Our Ancestors. Forget not that it was Our Ancestor, Charles Martel, another Most Christian King, who single handedly turned aside the Islamic hordes, and saved the West itself. We shall do so again, dear brothers, dear children of mine. Rise up, gird yourself for red war, and return white and sinless as crusaders of God! As France is again asserting herself as the Eldest Daughter of the Church, so say We that you are asserting yourselves as the finest generation in the History of France. Old in bravery, young in courage, go now, blessed sons of this most blessed land, and restore God to Africa, and France to Victory!”

The organ then boomed, the homily concluded, and the King led the assembled in the Lords Prayer, singing in his fine voice Pater noster, qui es in Caelis…. The King and Queen then descended and gave Communion to the troops as they passed by, giving each soldier the Holy Wafer and a blessing before they marched in columns to board their ships. Soon thereafter the Royal Family was on a train to Rome, and another 100,000 French troops were on their way to fight in Africa.

Nouakchott, Mauritania

Force D, consisting of 150 M-1 Abrams tanks supported by the 2nd Division, 15,230 Gardes Francaises of the Royal Dauphin Corps, marched into the capital of Mauritania. Alongside them were the 67th and the 30th Divisions of Gardes Francaises II Corps, who in turn were attached to hundreds of AMX-30s’, Leclerc battle tanks, and armored troop carriers and supply trucks. It was an advanced armored element under General de Chantel sous Bois, one of the Kingdoms best tacticians and a master of tank warfare. For this reason probably the Saint-Cyr prodigy was placed in command of Force D, His Most Christian Majesty’s largest armored element in the war and a heavily supported element at that. His task had been to launch the final prong of France’s fourfold offense, and completed le Duc de Broglie’s strategy: an eastern attack through Ghana, a western attack fro Cote d’Ivoire, a north-eastern attack from Mali and the final stroke, which would to be cut south now from Nouakchott. Troops from the VI Corps, several battalions of Light Infantry, were already being flown in to set up a ‘enduring’ presence.

Mauritania, already Bourbon friendly, was quickly won over. In short order supply lines were firmly established with all Holy League friendly lands to the north. The citizens of the Mauritanian capital were turned out to welcome the French troops, as the countries former leader became Prince Al-Sud I, Prince in Mauritania. The force would set up in the capital for a few days, organize itself, and then advance south into Senegal and close the net around flailing ECOWAS.

It was also a propaganda victory, as Prince Emmanuel I addressed the cameras, dressed in a fine uniform of a colonel in the Lambesc Grenadiers, standing in front of Prince Leopold, Prince in Cote d’Or: “We in our humble land are so happy to be back in the French family. Along with my colleague Prince Leopold, we are living testimony to the fact the communist goblins are in Africa only to harm our black, but very French, brothers. Let us all embrace the good old days once again!”

Massive applause, more often than not with rifles poking in the backs of those clapping.

“I hereby declare my principality, formerly known as a Republic, a vassal state of great father France and His Most Christian, Excellent, and Benevolent Majesty King Louis-Auguste, may angels guard His Throne forever! Happy days are come again to Africa, dear friends, let us welcome them with a calm spirit and desire to work for the good of us all!”

There was a ceremony later in the day when Prince Emmanuel I was formally crowned at Notre Dame de Algiers in the Kingdom of Algeria, with several brothers of the French Royal Family in attendance. Simultaneously, former Republican and leftist agitators were quickly and efficiently arrested, and sent off to captivity in the Kingdom of Algeria. In prompt order a section of la Marechaussee, French Secret State Police, had arrived and were getting everything nicely streamlined. That night the new flag of Mauritania, the fleur-de-lys, was raised once again over the Dolphin Palace in Nouakchott, now renamed in much better French fashion, St. Francis. France now has two reconstituted West African states; Mauritania and Cote d’Or (Benin and Togo). It would only be matter of time, and of the Grace of God, before a more complete Restoration of order occurred.

Ouahigouya, Burkina Faso

296 Algerian soldiers die in the battle at the obscure Burkinabe outpost, and many Zulu’s are damaged, but still operable, following heavier than expected anti aircraft fire. The battle had been a tough one, and the African rebels had given a good show, but once again good intelligence and total air support more or less decided the ECOWAS troops’ fate. It took about forty-eight hours for the main of the column to reorganize itself all said, and to secure their position around the battered town, enemy tanks still burning, to continue southward. Following that time however the supplies are again secure and the offensive continues. The 18th Division, supported by elements of the 50th, continue to progress south.

Perhaps in the Burkinabe Government had possessed a bit more money, destruction of roads would have been a problem. Yet as it is the roads are mostly dirt, and what damage the natives can inflict upon them does not greatly damage their journey.

It is the force of the 23rd Royal Algerian Infantry however, that having bypassed the majority of the attacks, that made the next crucial link for the Kingdom of France in reaching Ouagadougou…

Louisville (formerly Ouagadougou), Upper Cote d’Ivoire (formerly Burkina Faso)

With the arrival of the 23rd Royal Algerian Infantry Division accompanied by fifes and drums in the former city of Ouagadougou, now renamed Louisville, French High Command has every reason to celebrate. The city as a whole is now secure, and after much work its cleared airfield is once again bring in French supplies and hosting French attack aircraft.

Having waited until French forces actually controlled the capital, the puppet of what will be the new expanded colonial state of Cote d’Ivoire, which will include the former Cote d’Ivoire plus Burkina Faso, Colonel Joseph Mobutu SeSe Seko is crowned Prince Joseph I, Prince in Cote d’Ivoire. He is crowned right after the ceremony of Emmanuel I in Algiers, and is soon flown in for the occasion of the cities liberation. He will wait a while before giving his coronation speech, preferable when his new capital, St. Louis (formerly Abidjan) is out of rebel hands. A hard right winger let out of political prison by the French, he has every hope of setting up a solid and unmovable regime that will please his master in Versailles.

The Swiss 4th Regiment now departs the city by plane and goes for onto a rest and relocation assignment at Fte. Ste. Jeanne in Laghouat. The 23rd Division, with elements similar to the IV Corps light infantry troops being flown into St. Francis, are soon bolstered by Gardes Francaises troops spoiling for a fight. It will be some time, however, before any major move westwards occurs, as the supply line from Algiers to Louisville has only recently been established and will take much effort to properly secure.

Mopti, Mali

A major incursion by ECOWAS rebels is not hard to detect, and as the Malian fanatics spew from their hidden caves to assail the French rear they are detected. It is true that the main force is just west of San now, preparing its major push of Bamako, but High General Hashimi Jean-Pierre is not so foolish as to leave his rear wide open. Stationed at Mopti are two Allied Divisions, the 11th Regular Infantry Division Gardes Francaises and the 60th Royal Algerian Army Division. Both are well dug in, and prepare to hold this vital line in the supply chain from the Kingdom of Algeria.

The ECOWAS troops will find little resistance on the ground to their advance south of Mopti where the lines actually are. However, they are subject to a massive series of assaults by Mirage-2000’s and III’s flying out of Fte. Ste. Jeanne in the Kingdom of Algeria. Over two hundred craft scramble and attack with vigor the very open and exposed Malian force, in the main using cluster bombs and napalm. With the African forces so arrayed in columns, the attacks are sure to cause massive damage, and even hopefully disperse the Africans. Although their maneuver would earn them credit, it was in danger simply because of the large nature of the assault by air. If it continued on its way under such duress, it faced a difficult battle with forces guarding Mopti indeed. And if they turn west, and turn to surprise the main force, they will be parried by the Biahmut Mountain Warfare Division of the Royal Algerian Army currently stationed just south of San.

And further to the West, High General Hashimi Jean-Pierre and his forces are surrounding Bamako, with the final offensive to crush Mali in sight…

((I just cant do any more right now…will have the rest up tomorrow, can everybody please wait until then to continue? I want to have everything out for when we move on, and if I get more posts to respond to I don’t think I can hack it. Thanks, same time tomorrow all Africa will be updated, and you can all respond to your hearts content.))

OOC-Obvioulsy the verse is not that well known, the Epistle to the Romans, as authored by St. Paul, 8:31b, "If God be for us, who can be against us?" Not in the Gospels anywhere. Perhaps a better reading might be the Gospel according to St. Matthew, 10:34, quoting Jesus who is called Christ "Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword." Of course, that is taking the verse completely out of context, but I am sure that you don't mind.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Wait a second...did you just up and claim Mauretania? Guys, this "seizing random NPC nations without resistance" thing is seriously getting out of hand.

(OCC: Yes. Mauritania is, last I checked, being RPed by Spyr, but this whole ECOWAS thing is just one big disaster. Damn Frenchmen! Indians will kill every last one of them, I say!)

**OOC** In all fairness I understood it to be a basically HL allied state, to the extent of even invaiding Saharawi, therefore not NPC, furthermore it was a part of French colonial Africa, so I moved on it. I posted the invasion of it a few weeks ago, AC. And I had no understanding that it was at all RPed by Spur, if it was no one told me. Anywho, shall I amend it then? And if wished, how? Also, can Gurg please respond to the Accra battle...until Accra is responded to (exhibit moves in Cote d'Ivoire and such), I cant really post anymore here, figured that out last eve. So, sorry mes amis, looks like it will be tommorrow before I respond here. And thanks for the Bible info, Quinn, consider that all validated and such.

Oh! Sorry, I forgot all about Accra. Must type. I assume that I'm exempt from the 'don't post' request?

Thread is here: Sword and Pen [AMW] (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=510474)

Jamestown Fort was destroyed, sorry for the oversight. I'll have the command post relocated to The Castle, in central Accra. It bears noting, however, that the command post is not particularly obvious, being essentially an Aldis Lamp and a large radio antenna. You might spot it from the flyovers, but your pilots would also be engaged by MANPADs from the somewhat bored Western District

Eastern District, Accra

Exuberance amongst the Ghanaian defenders, far more numerous than their Australasian comrades, rapidly transformed itself into confusion. The significance of the Algerian move was suddenly very clear as the howitzers began to rain fire upon Ghanaian positions. For all the lace, the filigree and the absurd gold trim, the French seemed to know how to fight a war. The colonel commanding the Eastern District was not particularly surprised, however, and ordered a phased withdrawl from the forward position at Line One. Heavy mortar teams would go first, followed by machine gunners. LMGs and light mortars, less unwieldy than their larger brothers, would hold the line for the moment. Regulars would follow the heavy weapons, while elite teams and the aforementioned LMGs and mortars would follow last.

So when the UGC hit, a good portion of the defenders had fallen back already. The Mirage 2000s were greeted by a sporadic volley of MANPADs and RPG-7s that petered out with the fall of napalm derivative. As the fire--unusually persistent though it was-- burned itself out, a light wind picked up and blew the smoke away. It revealed the Royal Vanguard Legion's troops, only a few dozen metres ahead and marching in perfect step. Divested of their primary cover, they turned their heavy guns on the defenders and began firing, killing more men in that instant than their Algerian fellows had in a good hour or so. The light machine gunners swung their weapons-- an esoteric mix of semi-obsolete weapons and Roik built Bren guns-- to bear on the RVL troops. They fired together, mowing down the first rank of charging soldiers.

Scattered amongst the somewhat irregularly drawn front line were the elite units stationed in the Eastern District. They were broken down into single squads and lurked in shadows, behind rubble or half-standing walls. Their units had been the hardest hit by UGC attacks, not to say that the others weren't somewhat badly shaken by the bombardment and following firebombing. Even so, when they encountered units of the RVL they stood fast until such time as they were outnumbered. Their commanders gave the retreat, and the men fell back gratefully behind the LMG lines as able.

As the RVL drew closer, the LMG gunners too fell back. The more professional of them-- and by far the majority-- took the time to store their weapons before drawing submachine guns or pistols, but a few disdained their heavier machine guns and instead brought only their pistols or other personal weapons.

The light mortar teams were stationed a few dozen metres back from the LMG gunners' new position, mostly behind piles of rubble or in other partial cover. They fired continuously, until their weapons were too hot to touch with bare hands, falling back as the LMG gunners did.

Meanwhile, the colonel in charge of Eastern District had redrawn his line, mostly intact, half a kilometre behind the impact craters of the MPRL barrage. The line was porous to allow retreating light troops access to medical facilities, temporary camps and other such amenities just westward of the position. There were no rivers to form a natural bulwark, so engineers had spent the preceding weeks constructing a berm of sorts from old rubble, mud and whatever else could be found. Mounted here were the precious few field guns of Accra's arsenal. They were of varying calibre, ranging from four modern 122 mm howitzers to 85mm infantry guns of WWII vintage. Mounted on the back side of the slope, they were directed by radio and by spotters that crouched on the berm's top amongst the machine guns and sandbags.

The positions were decently fortified, but they had also been designed for a quick exit in the event of another heavy air-attack. Lookouts were posted on nearby apartment roofs, carrying flags that warned of attack strength, type and composition in addition to radios. Such a system had been in place at the first line, but for whatever reason had failed to make itself known in time to warn of the attacks.

Accra Int'l Airport, Northern District

The missile attack did little damage overall, as Ghanaian defenders sequestered themselves inside large, permanent structures such as terminals. Few were caught outside, but those that were died almost instantly in the heavy fire. Entrenched defenders in the tower and terminals pointed their numerous MANPADs at the Zulus, firing cheerfully away before abandoning the tall and vulnerable structure for the terminal below. They had a fair range afforded by their elevation, and the dozens of men were entirely happy to expend their missile ammunition. If not now, then when?

On the ground as well, few Ghanaians remained in place. The 23rd Regiment made slow progress, but was subjected to near-constant and well co-ordinated attacks to its flanks and rear while the front slowly gave way. The fighting took place mainly between the branches of a river in the Achimota district, deep enough to require large bridges crossing it in several places. The rivers did not extend indefinitely, and could be navigated around. However, the most direct path to the airport and the central district lay through the southern branch, while the entire western district was separated by the westernmost river. As in any large city, the walls on each side of the river were high, forming more of a canal than a gentle shore. Docks existed, but the boats were scuttled in a lagoon close to the ocean. The only way across were a number of bridges rigged with high explosive.

The 61st was largely safe from counterattack, owing to the fact that nobody of sound tactical mind would attempt an open charge upon entrenched enemies with air support. Their positions were shelled at extreme range by mortar teams, but beyond that they were simply watched by just over two thirds of their own strength in Ghanaian regulars.

French units on the move, however, would find themselves frustrated in the narrower of Accra's streets by fighters concealed in buildings and blocked where possible on main avenues. The blocks were mainly of concertina wire and assorted heavy weapons, but few stood their ground against overwhelmingly superior forces. Standard practise was to kill as many as possible, collapse a large obstacle where the guns used to be and then run like hell. Accusations of cowardice by the enemy are met with derision; who wanted to be shot by Zulu helicopters when they could fall back with guns and lives intact? Large French units were sometimes met by entire companies of Ghanaians who used radio co-ordination to mount flanking attacks against superior forces of enemy.

The Northern District also hosted an Australasian EW unit. It had temporarily holed itself inside a local broadcasting station, where the dapper young lieutenant in charge directed his men to hook their local jammer up to one of the massive radio towers that rose above Accra's skyline. He tuned the set to that of the French command structure in Accra and hit the switch, sending 'Heart of Oak' prerecorded to every French radio so tuned on maximum power.

Heart of Oak,
Are our ships,
Heart of Oak,
Are our men,
We'll always be ready,
Steady boys! Steady,
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again!

OOC: Last I was aware of, the Mauritanians were the subject of an invasion by Moroccan-Spanish forces, fresh from plowing through the Saharawi, rather than participants in said invasion.

(OCC: Surely, NG, you don't mean Joseph-Desire Mobutu, one-time dictator of Zaire, deposed by Laurent Kablia, and who died in 1997?)

Burkina Faso

The enemy advance from Ouahigouya is harried constantly by Burkinabe mobile forces and ATGW teams, who stand a good chance of causing the French losses. Their Leopard 1 tanks are vulnerable to Milan ATGWs and Pjpv-1111 recoilless rifles, after all, and after scoring a few hits the Burkinabe defenders escape into the very much open country, for the most part gone before attack helicopters or fighter-bombers show up, or, when they do, ready for them with MANPADs. It will be difficult for the French to secure their supply lines, with parties of highly mobile Burkinabe soldiers and irregulars scattered across the countryside. To really keep the whole length of the long road from Mali -indeed, the road from French forts in Algeria itself- safe from the innumerable raiders that inhabit the desert expanses, would take more forces than could reasonably be spared from a credible attack into any nation.

Though the state of Burkina Faso's road network is not good, there does exist between the capital and the second largest city a paved highway, and this is wrecked in as many places as possible. Any vehicle is most at home on a paved surface, and even if the French advance is by no means stopped, it is necessarily slowed by the need to travel along less than ideal routes towards the capital. Forces closer to Ouagadougou take full advantage of these delays, withdrawing south and east quickly and in good order, and keeping-up dangerous mortar bombardment of the city until the departure of the last company.

Burkinabe infantrymen in Bobo-Dioulasso also begin their withdrawal, having dealt the far more numerous, yet artillery-less and lightly-armored, French mercenaries probably what is closest yet to a defeat. With 122mm artillery pieces and Grad MRLs, as well as a pair of now destroyed SF.260 armed trainers, Burkinabe infantrymen were apparently able to interrupt enemy reinforcement and movement quite handily. Recoilless rifle teams and infantry units, under the leadership of men from the elite parachute battalion, were also able to block all enemy attempts to break-out from Bobo-Dioulasso. Pleased with their record, these forces take the road to Ferkessedougou, in Cote D'Ivoire, and are ultimately intent on reaching the relative safety of Guinea. There they will doubtless find use in the country's planned defense.

Mali

Heavy enemy air attacks, far heavier than had been expected, do much to disrupt Malian efforts at taking Mopti. Unguided weaponry does not cause unmanageable losses, but being subject to such attacks all the way to Mopti would likely bring the destruction of much of the force. Ultimately the division is ordered to split-up and form mobile raiding parties in the countryside. As a regular formation it is dissolved, but some 10,000 trained regular infantrymen plus vehicles cruising around in the Malian hinterland might just end up causing the French more trouble than the whole division arrayed together for more conventional warfare. The fact remains that French supply lines are incredibly long, and it is about time that the Malian Army takes advantage of this. Troops scatter widely, some heading around Mopti towards the empty Sahara, others back to roughly where they came from, and others into Burkina Faso.

The intended raiding groups, not so heavily accosted by enemy aircraft, continue on their way to the road between Gao and San, still intent on locating and attacking French logistical columns. Long expanses of exposed pavement are ideal for Malian gunners, who can spot their targets from a long way off, silhouetted against the horizon while they themselves slink about in the brush and dunes. CA 95 teams, also highly mobile, and those operating heavy 23mm antiaircraft cannons, move around with the recoilless rifle and Milan-sporting Land Rovers and the Panhard armored cars, and provide limited protection from enemy air raids. If the heavily-armored Zulu can't be brought down easily, at least the unmanouverable, lightly-built Mirage III can be challenged by the Malian weapons, and the same goes for the somewhat more substantial Mirage 2000. Such raids will, however, only continue for so long as the French columns continue to go relatively unprotected, since the Malian troops are also keen to conserve their strength. The Polisario experience can readily demonstrate what a well-organized militia force can do in the desert, and Malians are keen to take ghazzi tactics to heart. Perhaps someday they might bring the Malian Army victories akin to those won by the Polisario against far larger Moroccan armored units.

Enemy efforts aimed at surrounding Bamako will find themselves heavily opposed by Malian army units positioned ahead of it, and impeded by the swampy nature of the terrain, much of which is highly unsuitable for armored vehicles. Romanian-built TR-125s are present near Bamako, although their already small numbers are rarely concentrated, and these attempt to snipe at approaching French vehicles, before they are abandoned and destroyed by crews. Doubtless of more concern for the Frenchmen is the use of Malian BM-21 MRLs, highly mobile rocket artillery platforms that can fire a salvo of 122mm rockets and be gone in not much more than two minutes. These are used to break-up enemy assaults wherever possible, although the nature of the terrain restricts their movement as well as that of enemy vehicles. Frenchmen and Algerians attempting to operate on Bamako's flanks will, however, find themselves gaining ground. Malian soldiers, although they put up constant ambushes and oppose every major water crossing, melt away in the face of concentrated attacks, moving steadily west towards Guinea. Rear guard troops in Koulikoro, for instance, are ordered to abandon their positions in Koulikoro, a major town on the Niger, and move towards the capital under the cover of darkness. A regular army Regiment still defends the capital, although its solemn orders are to withdraw in the face of major enemy action or when the rest of the army moves far enough to the west. Several river ferries are modified to serve as gunboats on the Niger, the rearmost of the rear guard, meant to protect the withdrawal of Bamako's defenders.

Bamako's Senou International Airport receives the attention of most of the regiment's sappers, who, equipped with truckloads of artillery shells and surplus bombs, set about demolishing it. Hangars are blown up first, and these relatively flimsy structures don't take a whole lot of explosive force to bring down. Oil tanks are ruptured and set aflame with RPG-7s while derelict aircraft are towed out onto the airport's 2,700m runway. These include a few rusted-out MiG-17s, relics of the Agacher Strip War with Burkina Faso, as well as abandoned Fokker Fellowships, Dassault Falcons, and L-410s. Sappers attempt to make these aircraft as hard to remove as possible, but, when the enemy is equipped with tanks and heavy armor, it will not take long for the French to remove those obstructions. In order to ensure that the airport will be out of commission for at least some weeks, stacks of 122mm shells are detonated along the runway.

Conakry

Indian warships are no doubt a welcome sight off the Guinean capital, and, after a long voyage from Zanzibar, Igovian and Union infantry are very eager to leave their ships. The short stopover in Namibia was, after all, the only time that some of them had the opportunity to set foot on solid ground, and that was at least a week ago. Assault shipping is the first to move up to the quayside, in order to give the hastily-assembled formation of civilian ferries and landing craft time to assemble and coordinate the debarkation of troops carried aboard the escorts and aircraft carriers. INS Kaveri and INS Godavari disgorge between them some 1,000 Union marines, fully equipped infantrymen with light Mahindra trucks and antitank-configured jeeps, with approximately 600 more dispersed amongst the various Union destroyers, frigates, and support ships. Another 300 wait aboard Ibrahim Haidari, and already some of these are taken ashore by Sea Kings as the carrier's captain becomes eager to free-up his deck for Sea Harrier operations. Probably the Soviets have far more, although nobody bothered to take down exact numbers before leaving Namibia. BrahMos MTLs are offloaded, although fewer of these arrived than had initially been planned owing to the emplacement of several at Luderitz. Should things really go badly, with Ali Khan Marakkar's allied battlegroup pushed back down the African coast, the beachhead at Conakry will still have at least some defense against League warships.

With a bit of luck, the debarkation will be completed within a matter of days, freeing-up Indian assault shipping for operations elsewhere along the West African coastline. Soviet submarines have no instructions to to stop and wait for the battlegroup to finish with its business in Conakry. Indeed, it is seen as imperative that the Igovian nuclear-powered attack boats move north ahead of the surface combatants to engage the Russian fleet in particular. Warships from the subcontinent can claim a considerable advantage over their French opponents in terms of anti-ship missiles, but the same does not hold for the Russians. Kirov-class battlecruisers and the Kuznetzov-class aircraft carrier are major targets, and if even one of these assets were to be knocked out ahead of the main clash it would make things much easier for the Indians, who do not rely on just a few platforms to carry their heavy missiles.

Soviet SSKs, a number of which accompanied the battlegroup around the Horn of Africa, are advised to loiter off the Nigerian coast as silently as possible, and to sink, either with ASMs or with torpedoes, any major warship that leaves port. Nigeria's Kirov is considered an especially high priority.

Like the RWN, Ali Khan Marakkar knows better than to let his forces be trapped and forced to bear heavy French gunnery, and will head out into deeper water as soon as possible. If the enemy moves forward, he will move back, remaining ever careful not to close to under 200 kilometers under any circumstances.

Guinea-Bissau

Joao Bernardo Vieira's new government does not have at its disposal a great many troops. Some 7,000 armed men are in government employ, counting irregulars, enough to, under normal circumstances, hold-up the French for a day or two. But most of Guinea-Bissau's landmass is undefended, its soldiers having relocated to the Bijagos Archipelago, a particularly defensible group of islands connected to the mainland by a regular ferry service. Bissau, the capital, is itself protected by a Senegalese battalion, charged with little besides destroying all the boats when the French come. Offshore redoubts like the Bijagos Archipelago and peninsulas, such as those that are home to Dakar and Conakry, will likely provide ECOWAS with its best defensive positions, places where the French might finally be halted. As long as the Franco-Russian fleet is at least prevented from removing the Indians from the field, enemy operations along the West African coastline might be heavily and easily disrupted by Ali Khan Marakkar's fleet.

Sea Kings from INS Sutlej, a large replenishment ship, bring a company of Union marines to the Bijagos Archipelago from Conakry, equipped with a handful of 82mm mortars and AT.18 antitank missiles.

Mali

The Leger Afrika's brigade d'attaque was larger than expected. The completion of a Tulgarian deployment to Africa came via the nation's own amphibious ships, which had, after several days of waiting, been ordered to depart through waters thought now relatively safe for the Grand Duchy's warships (and previously liable to infestation by hostile Anglophones).

4,500 men of armour and mechanised infantry under Colonel Merjain Huttler departed after a week of briefing, acclimatising, and exercising in French Algeria, most of them in extremely high spirits, coming from simple rural life in a mildly backward nation at peace for so long as their young memories stretched. Even Huttler was too young to directly recall the demise of the bloody Tulgarian Empire in Congo and Southeast Asia.

Still, the nation's cultured cities did produce a few military recruits and thinkers to the bargain. Melancholy types who read the poetry of more creative continetal neighbours and appropriated it for their own melodramatic assessment of the situation into which they rode.

Morts de l'Europe...
Qui, pâles du basier fort de la liberté,
Calmes, sous vos sabots, brisiez le joug qui pèse
Sur l'âme et sur le front de toute humanité

Hommes extasiés et grands dans la tourmente,
Vous dont les coeurs sautaient d'amour sous les haillons,
Ô soldats que la Mort a semés, noble Amante,
Pour les régénérer, dans tous les vieux sillons;

Vous dont le sang lavait toute grandeur salie,
Morts de France, Morts de Tulgary, Morts d'Italie,
Ô million de Christs aux yeux sombres et doux;

Nous vous laissionsdormir avec la Catholicon,
Nous, courbés sous les rois comme sous une trique...

"Quiet down in there, Syx! We're here to kill people, not whine about being killed! And stop writing on the ruddy canteen truck!"

Ah well, at least he didn't pause to swear between every line.

A mixed bunch, then, of those few who thought gloomy thoughts before a single casualty had been suffered, and of those many who confidently rode Leopard 1 tanks into a conflict that was claiming the same machines at a significant rate.

Still, the Tulgarians were coming, and most of them were motivated and ready to shoot at some coloured types, hardly any yet thinking on the fact that a Soviet force had already landed in the very country they planned to make a colony of the Grand Duchy and to which they were expecting to fight their way through a rabble of simple Africans. If nothing else they certainly had a lot of machineguns, the Duchy being frigtfully proud of its tradition in mowing-down lines of less well equipped natives and now wishing to try it with world-famous .50", Mag, and Minimi weapons.

Huttler requested a bit more intelligence on the environment in which he'd fight, and wondered if he shouldn't send to Algeria for some Fal rifles to extend the range and punch of his assault-rifle-weilding infantry.

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

And:

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

French Fleet:
3 Cherbourg Battleships
11 Marseilles class cruisers
1 Charles de Gaulle
18 Brest class frigates.
Around twenty corvettes and support ships are in tow.
9 Nantes class subs in support.
2 Kraken Class Dreadnaughts (Battleships)

Russian Submarine Fleet-
8 Kilo Class
7 Victor III Class
7 Alfa Class
2 Sierra Class
3 Akula I-Improved Class
1 Akula II Class
24 Yankee Class
1 Yankee II Class
2 Oscar I Class
5 Oscar II Class

OOC- (I don’t have the Spanish numbers here, is this all right, or are the Spaniards protecting the home front?)

These are all suspected to be incoming as well, and from time to time, one or more of them does surface well within the protective cordon of the combined fleet. The Fleet is placed under French command, with reservations. The French should give the Tsarists objectives, and let them carry them out. Beyond that, they will retain operational command.

This massive combined fleet is steaming hard towards the combined INU/Soviet Fleet and is fully prepared for a fight. If the Progs have any advantages, it is only in numbers of aircraft, and that will be slight.

But as the two massive fleets steam towards each other, General Mubarrak gives orders that the 2nd Fleet under Rear Admiral Ba Raji set sail to make war upon the Indians. It consists of:
1 Kirov Class Battlecruiser (Flagship)
3 Kashin Class Destroyers
2 Sovremenny Class Destroyers
1 Udaloy I Class Destroyer
5 Krivak Class Frigates
3 Grisha III Class Corvettes
5 Kilo Class Submarines

OOC- I am going to wait and allow NG to pretty much call the ball on this one. So, be patient.

Tsar Wingert the Great.

OCC: I might as well take this opportunity to assemble an order of battle for the Indian battlegroup.

West Africa Expeditionary Force
ISC:
1 Black Flag Class Heavy Gunboat
1 Chainmail Class Cruiser
1 India Class Fleet Carrier
3 Nibiru Class Escort Carriers/LPHs
15 Gauntlet Class Fleet Defense Frigates
25 Bodkin Class General Warfare Frigates
(Fleet Train)
76 Puffin Fighter-Bombers
4 (?) Anunkai Class SSNs
6 (?) Ortiagon Class SSKs

INU:
1 Invincible Class Escort Carrier (Ibrahim Haidari) (air group, 40mm CIWS, Seastreak)
2 Kaveri Class LSLs (Kaveri, Godavari) (Lynx, Seastreak, 130mm MRL)
4 Broadsword Class General Warfare Frigates (Ambajogai, Srivardhan, Parbhani, Amravati) (Sea King, PAADS-1, BrahMos, 40mm CIWS, 4.5in gun, 533mm torpedoes)
2 Bodkin Class General Warfare Frigates (Vijay, Vikram) (Dhruv, BrahMos, Mangonel, Lovitar-S, 30mm CIWS, 152mm gun, Qian Wei, 517mm torpedoes)
1 Battle Class Destroyer (Cadiz) (Lynx, PAADS-1, 40mm CIWS, Sea Eagle, 2x4.5in gun, 305mm A/S mortar, 324mm torpedoes)
7 Sheffield Class Air Defense Destroyers (Zhob, Sadiqabad, Rahimyar Khan, Moro, Chagai, Balotra, Ahmadpur East) (Lynx, PAADS-2, BrahMos, 40mm CIWS, 324mm torpedoes, 4.5in gun)
2 Aditya Class Replenishment Tankers (Aditya, Sutlej) (2xSea King, 2xDhruv, PAADS-1, 40mm CIWS)
2 Jyoti Class Fleet Oilers (Jyoti, Subroto) (2xSea King, Seastreak, 40mm CIWS)
1 Galle Class Submarine Tender (Galle) (2xSea King, PAADS-1, 40mm CIWS, 4.5in gun)
1 Guwahali Class Forward Repair Ship (Jodhpur) (Lynx, PAADS-1, 40mm CIWS)
1,900 Marines (1st Regiment, 57th Marine Division) (INSAS, Mahindra AT, Mahindra 410, G(AT).75, G.105, R.130, Rapier FSC, Starstreak, GR(AT).18, GR(AT).40, FV101)

Ibrahim Haidari air group:
12 Sea Harrier FA2 Fighter-Bombers (No.351 Squadron) (2x30mm ADEN, DRAB ASRAAM, R-77I2, Sea Eagle, unguided bombs)
3 AEW Sea Kings (Union version of AEW7)
5 ASW Sea Kings (may also be used as missile decoys) (324mm torpedoes, depth charges, Sea Eagle, Sea Skua)

Strathdonia:
2 Qin Class General Warfare Frigates

Ghana:
2 Warrior (Saar 4) Class Missile FACs

It is perhaps important to note that the majority of the warships in this battlegroup carry heavy ASMs, with over 250km range and speeds approaching Mach 3. Several Russian warships, namely the Kirovs and the Kuznetzov, carry missiles with longer ranges, but the majority of the Russian warships do not out range the Indian warships and the same seems to go for all the French vessels. I don't think its going to be as one-sided as you make it out to be, Quinn.

OOC:

Oh well looks like my 2 lil' frigates are going to get munched, if only i had a Lady Victoria, Princess, Templar, Grand Master or Warrior Saint kicking about (these being Crookfur NS tech monstrousities).

Anyway just a note to say that i do intend to get back into AMW, if I can get caught up.

OOC:
Im sorry i havent been able to post, ive been extreemly busy and i appear to have bitten off more than i can chew RP-wise, especially with the January AS Exam Session

OOC-I din't mean to imply that, sorry. I am quite confident that it will be a pitched battle, my comments were only to focus the perceptions of my tacticions. Though, I think that we do have a pretty major advantage, not nearly so much as to write off the battle as a victory, and even if we do win, certainly it will be hard-fought and costly in the extreme.

No worries in that regard m8!

But it should be pretty great with some 77 warships in your fleet and 213 warships, including subs on both sides, in ours! That pretty much makes this the most massive sea battle in history doesn't it! It will probably range all over! Man, it should be great. I am really thankful to be in this RP with you guys, I had to sit out the last sea battle, and it rocked!

Tsar Wingert the Great.

OOC: Where exactly is the battle occuring?

(OOC: Just a note that the cruiser, Ood] is a Chainmail Class vessel, not Gauntlet ('s the frigates), I think that was just a typo but I had better clarify, just in case.)

While command of the fleet remains with the INU (subject to the ever-present possibility of a democratic mutiny by Soviet crews), Raipur sends a communique to Mumbai this week stating that five Gauntlet Class fleet-defence frigates, the second Chainmail Class cruiser (her sea-trials still incomplete), a Nibiru Class CVL/LPH, four Anunkai Class SSGN and six Ortiagon Class SSK, a Restoration Class submarine tender, two Brompton oilers and two Benefactor ammunition ships, a Verix Class combat stores ship, and a Palaemon Class heavy support ship are mustering off the Malagasy Republic and hope to proceed to the Atlantic theatre. Whether the current multi-national fleet must/desires-to engage now, or chooses to pull back and await reinforcement is left to the Union commanders in-theatre and not meddled with by the distant Final Soviet.

The Defiance Class fleet carrier CS Union is undergoing sea-trials, and has recently completed her Galle-Zanzibar sortie, a significant part of any Soviet ship's preparation. Soviet officers and workers are far from confident in the ship's readiness for action, but if the situation is assessed as sufficiently dire a gamble may be made on the huge ultra-modern warship's deployment. Still, extra Puffin and navalised Springer have their merits.

Already several Soviet ships are under steam despite having cut-short their trials, and the second Chainmail -like the battleship Communism off Goa- is at sea with workers still hammering at the final fittings.

Mumbai is very much eager to see the Soviet fleet head towards the Atlantic side of Africa at best possible speed. While the reinforcements might not actually see the battle, given that it took the main body of the Indian flotilla some days to reach West Africa, the extra ships will be vital, no doubt, in replacing losses incurred in the engagement, or, if things go very badly, in covering the withdrawal to the AfCom. Union warships; the Bodkin-class frigate Vajra, the Bengal corvettes Ignatius Dewanto, Balaghat, and Tikamgarh, the ocean minesweeper and one-time destroyer Chennai, the LSL Sabarmati, and the two auxiliaries Cochin and Konkan, are themselves ordered to sail southwest, intent on joining the Soviets off Durban. Unioners are willing to let the less-disagreeable element represented by Maxen von Bismark exist on Mauritius for a bit longer, since the forces could very much be put to better use elsewhere.

Off West Africa, Ali Khan Marakkar continues to maneuver the fleet, careful to stay well outside the Franco-Spanish engagement range. ASW-configured Lynxes, Dhruvs, Ka-32BGs, and Sea Kings are put to work screening for Russian submarines in the meantime, large numbers of which are rumored to be in the area. Gauntlet and Broadsword-class frigates are given the same duty, while far fewer Anunkai class boats sneak-up altogether more quietly on the closing Russians and French. These will try to sink some of the most dangerous Russian warships, the Kirovs, Kuznetzovs, and Slavas, or at least put them out of action, before the main engagement. Doubtless the Russian submarines have the same role, but the sheer numbers deployed, and the advanced age of many of the boats, means that well-drilled Indian helicopter and frigate crews generally have a handle on the situation. And the Marakkar is not eager to repeat the embarrassment that befell the Walmingtonians at the hands of what could only have been Spanish S-80s. At the same time Soviet Ortiagons already in theater loiter off Nigeria, ready to intercept that nation's fleet when it sorties out from its anchorage. Of course, one thing that the Marakkar is not eager to have happen is a Soviet mutiny, so he is sure to base all his decisions on the opinions of Soviets and his own sailors. And if the Soviets require a change in command, the Union commander will readily step down.

The first Indians begin arriving in the AfCom itself. Maintenance staff and intelligence officers are the first to cross the border, to be followed shortly by, as far as the INU is concerned, a full division of Dragoons. Likely the Strathdonians will also deploy a regular army division, and no doubt the Soviets will, with their more extensive logistical capabilities, manage to send forces across the Indian Ocean as well. Engineers meanwhile arrive in Dar-es-Salaam, intent on expanding the rail link between the Tanzanian ocean port and Ujiji on Lake Tanganyika as fast as possible. Boatbuilding teams make straight for Ujiji, themselves and their equipment loaded on IAF Andovers. A second route to the AfCom, from Quelimane through Zambia and towards Lubumbashi, is assessed as well, and, from Union maps, this route is the only one with continuous railroad infrastructure from the Indian Ocean to the Congo River.

OOC: Quelimane is under joint Roycelandian/Strathdonian control, AFAIK.

OOC: True but the Roiks, from what i can remember, control only a small part of the main port and inner city with the airport, rail head and the newly developed naval base. From a qucik look on google maps the Rl Quelimane harbour has a single largish cargo terminal on the north end of the water front witha couple of small peirs, a ferry terminal(ish) and a single small dry dock south of that, AMW Quelimane is likely a lot moe developed with the cargo/container terminal being upgraded and having a direct rail link completed during the Simba years. Post Simba changes would involve a major base for the Coastal Boat Squadron being biult, likely closer to the mouth of the river, on the rather large island in the middle of it or on the south/western bank of the river (which currently has a ferry port and what looks a lot like a very big makeshift airstrip).

Either that or we use the newly biult facilities at Pebane ;)

What ever the location of the base i think the Strathdonia's would have biutl it so that we could continue beign freidns with everyone without you all stepping on each other's toes.

IC:

Standing on the bridge of SSB Austrialia was a still a new and exciting experience for Admiral James Kilpatrick, heck even the title of Admiral was a new and often overwhelming experience. A mere 9months ago he had been the senior captain and operations manager for a small but profitibale shipping line and now he found himself in charge of a pair of rather powerful criusers...

Looking down to the deck he saw the crew racing about to complete the latest devilish exercise his staff had chosen to be performed today. The long criuse from Austrailia had certainly given the men plenty of time to work themselves into something appraoching an acceptable state of readiness although they still had more than a few rough edges as the regualr close calls during helicopter operations proved.

Turning back to the job at hand he was perplexed to see that no home port had been selecteda s thier destiantion.

"Leftenant M'boda, pray tell me why we do not have a destiantion more precise than simply "Strathdonia"?"

"I'm sorry Sir, but its High Command, they are still tryign to figure out where to put us. they would like us to dock at Quelimane but the Roiks have apparently been acting more than little snooty recently esspecially due to our cossiness with the Hindi's so we might have to dock at Pebane instead, HC have promised a decision by tonight thought."
"Fair enough M'boda, not much we can do while the generals, colonels and politicains get thier panties in a twist, we are the junior service after all, just me keep me updated."

OOC: I should note that the SSB Australia and the other cruiser are ex-FCS Australia and Canberra, County-class heavy cruisers of the Free Colonial Navy. They've probably been updated somewhat and armed with harpoons or something. I'll leave that to Strath, who purchased them from me.

OCC: RL County Class? They'll not look out of place next to INS Cadiz, which itself dates back to the end of the second world war.

IC:

Gulf of Khambhat

The Indian National Union's newest cruiser, Sindhudurg, spends the first days after its extremely premature commissioning in the relative safety of home waters, moored in the navy's anchorage at Surat while technicians from UTS finish the ship. Of course, even while the work is being performed, Sindhudurg is provisioned and its magazines are stocked. Hasty gunnery trials are even conducted from the quayside, and although these don't really demonstrate the cruiser's capabilities, crewmen are relieved to know that their most basic weapons systems at least can be depended on. This is especially good news in light of orders to make for Zanzibar immediately. So with the technicians still aboard and still working, Sindhudurg surges out of the Gulf of Khambhat at 25 knots, under the capable command of Captain Arun Bajirao, onetime commander of the since-retired cruiser Babur and one of a great many experienced Union naval officers.

INS Rakshak and INS Trishul, new Bodkin-class frigates, are detached from coastal duty to accompany the cruiser, and both of them are also commanded by veteran destroyer captains. Moving at a fast cruise, they hope to reach Zanzibar within five days, and there refuel for the trip around the Cape of Good Hope.

Dispatches are sent to Lilongwe, inquiring as to whether the Coastal Boat Squadron's two cruisers might be available for operations on the other side of Africa. Of course, as the Unioners understand it, the two hulls are quite old, perhaps older than Cadiz by a few years, and few would be surprised if further refits are required to make them combat-ready.

Also at Surat a few UTS technicians occupy themselves with refitting the hulks present at the anchorage. Four old Hunt-class destroyers, or at least what is left of them after the stripping of most of their superstructure, are fitted with 40mm and 20mm AAA guns and Javelin posts, and towed out of the harbor. Tugs deposit them at points along the coastline, anchored to the sea floor or beached in shallow water. A more intact vessel, a Loch-class frigate not so long ago used as a training ship, is repaired and given a battery of L/70s as well, while the stern deck is cleared to make a small helipad. Four Type 21 frigates, initially purchased for their scrap value, but still largely seaworthy and capable of moving under their own power, are also slated for refit. Technicians gather Squid antisubmarine mortars and Polsten guns and prepare to weld them to the frigates' cleared decks.

OOC: Yup, RL county classes of the RL Australian navy, license built by the British and rebuilt by the Australasians for Strathdonia. They should be combat-worthy, if not on the level of a Marseillaise-class cruiser or somesuch.

I expect that the Indian lack of surface combatants will be more than offset by the fact that their fleet is rather superior in terms of aviation capability. After all, Russia's carriers can't accommodate any more aircraft (by and large) than the INU's Invincible-class, and the Charles de Gaulle supports only some thirty-six. The Indians might get thrashed in the end, but not without doing a fair bit of thrashing themselves. It's worth pointing out, after all, that the BrahMos and Granit/Moskit both outrange the Exocet by a fair margin, so France's navy could easily be devastated first in such a conflict. It would behoove the Indians to keep the French at long range, then.

Aaand, I'll stop ranting.

**OOC** Hello my friends! Now, before I post here tommorrow, I have some questions. What exactly is the current naval situation? And what are the progressives on shore currently doing? And please tell me people, what do I do about Mauritania? Gurg, LRR, AC, anyone? I have an army moving through it right now and previously declared it French...but then AC lodged a complaint and I found out Spyr is supposed to play it. The way I see it If that is the case, and my troops were not able to move therein, I ought to be allowed time to say they would have moved equal distance through another area. This is the most important item to me.

So, with that in mind, tommorrow I am going to respond specifically to: 1. situation in Accra, 2. Mali, 3.Burkina Faso, and 4. Cote d'Ivoire. I cant do anything else until the other items get resolved.

Wow, AMW certainly picked up n'est-ce pas?

These are the numbers of the joint Tsarist, French Fleet:

Tsar Wingert-
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

And:

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

French Fleet:
3 Cherbourg Battleships
11 Marseilles class cruisers
1 Charles de Gaulle
18 Brest class frigates.
Around twenty corvettes and support ships are in tow.
9 Nantes class subs in support.
2 Kraken Class Dreadnaughts (Battleships)

Russian Submarine Fleet-
8 Kilo Class
7 Victor III Class
7 Alfa Class
2 Sierra Class
3 Akula I-Improved Class
1 Akula II Class
24 Yankee Class
1 Yankee II Class
2 Oscar I Class
5 Oscar II Class

OOC- (I don’t have the Spanish numbers here, is this all right, or are the Spaniards protecting the home front?)

These are all suspected to be incoming as well, and from time to time, one or more of them does surface well within the protective cordon of the combined fleet. The Fleet is placed under French command, with reservations. The French should give the Tsarists objectives, and let them carry them out. Beyond that, they will retain operational command.

This massive combined fleet is steaming hard towards the combined INU/Soviet Fleet and is fully prepared for a fight. If the Progs have any advantages, it is only in numbers of aircraft, and that will be slight.

But as the two massive fleets steam towards each other, General Mubarrak gives orders that the 2nd Fleet under Rear Admiral Ba Raji set sail to make war upon the Indians. It consists of:
1 Kirov Class Battlecruiser (Flagship)
3 Kashin Class Destroyers
2 Sovremenny Class Destroyers
1 Udaloy I Class Destroyer
5 Krivak Class Frigates
3 Grisha III Class Corvettes
5 Kilo Class Submarines

OOC- I am going to wait and allow NG to pretty much call the ball on this one. So, be patient.

Tsar Wingert the Great.



And these are the numbers for the INU/Soviet Fleet:

Crooked Beat-
OCC: I might as well take this opportunity to assemble an order of battle for the Indian battlegroup.

West Africa Expeditionary Force
ISC:
1 Black Flag Class Heavy Gunboat
1 Chainmail Class Cruiser
1 India Class Fleet Carrier
3 Nibiru Class Escort Carriers/LPHs
15 Gauntlet Class Fleet Defense Frigates
25 Bodkin Class General Warfare Frigates
(Fleet Train)
76 Puffin Fighter-Bombers
4 (?) Anunkai Class SSNs
6 (?) Ortiagon Class SSKs

INU:
1 Invincible Class Escort Carrier
2 Kaveri Class LSLs
4 Broadsword Class General Warfare Frigates
2 Bodkin Class General Warfare Frigates
1 Battle Class Destroyer
7 Sheffield Class Air Defense Destroyers
(Fleet Train)
12 Sea Harrier FA2 Fighter-Bombers

Strathdonia:
2 Qin Class General Warfare Frigates

Ghana:
2 Warrior (Saar 4) Class Missile FACs

It is perhaps important to note that the majority of the warships in this battlegroup carry heavy ASMs, with over 250km range and speeds approaching Mach 3. Several Russian warships, namely the Kirovs and the Kuznetzov, carry missiles with longer ranges, but the majority of the Russian warships do not out range the Indian warships and the same seems to go for all the French vessels. I don't think its going to be as one-sided as you make it out to be, Quinn.


Estenlands-
OOC-I din't mean to imply that, sorry. I am quite confident that it will be a pitched battle, my comments were only to focus the perceptions of my tacticions. Though, I think that we do have a pretty major advantage, not nearly so much as to write off the battle as a victory, and even if we do win, certainly it will be hard-fought and costly in the extreme.

No worries in that regard m8!

But it should be pretty great with some 77 warships in your fleet and 213 warships, including subs on both sides, in ours! That pretty much makes this the most massive sea battle in history doesn't it! It will probably range all over! Man, it should be great. I am really thankful to be in this RP with you guys, I had to sit out the last sea battle, and it rocked!

Tsar Wingert the Great.


Beyond that, there was an offer of some reinforcements from the Soviets, but they would be a long, long time in getting here. I think everyone is just pretty much waiting for someone to kick it all off.

Tsar Wingert the Great.

OOC: The Combine fleet dispatched to the Western Sahara is about three days behind the INU/Soviet fleet. Any way they could meet up?

OOC: Im back, its time to test those surface warfare tactics ive been working up.

L-60 Avalon
The Admiral held the message in his hands in disbelieve, he thought he had misred it, he started to read it again.

FROM:COMATLFLT
TO: OCMDING, COMBINED SPANISH FLEET
ABORT MISSION ALCATRAZ-THREE, TURN SOUTH, DROP TROOP SHIPS AT CEUTA AND PROCEED FOR RENDEVOUZ WITH RMN SQUADRON AND PREPARE FOR COMBAT WITH SOVIET FORCES
GOOD LUCK
BREAKBREAK
Convinced he had read it correctly now, he left his stateroom and started up the bridge to order his fleet to reverse course, the Invasion of the Channel Islands was off, they had bigger fish to fry. As he walked, he tried to keep the smile off of his face. Woe the man who began to enjoy the killing, for he hath become Death Himself, and a scourge upon God's Creation

(OCC: In response to your question, AC, I think its a safe bet that the engagement will occur within the next three days, so, eh, probably not. However, in the not unlikely event that the Indians are forced to withdraw to the south, Armandian vessels would be invaluable in covering the maneuver and perhaps discouraging continued pursuit on the part of Holy League vessels. How many ships are we talking about in your force?

NG, well, nobody is stopping you from invading Mauritania, and I recall you promising it to Spain, its just that I'd rather not see the whole nation fall without Nouakchott saying anything about it. It'll take a few days at least to move through the country, though, being as it is quite vast and with poor road infrastructure. The same goes for West Africa as a whole. Your troops? You could always move them through Mali, but stay-behind Army units are doing their best to make the roads running across Mali's portion of the Sahara as dangerous as possible. Unless you go through Mauritania I can't see any other way that you could flank Senegal without contending with the largest concentrations of ECOWAS troops outside of Ghana, barring an amphibious operation. But welcome back. I can't wait to pick this thing up again.)

(OCC: It strikes me that many of you haven't yet seen this:

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=471053&page=2

Some Union defense information that you might find helpful in RPing the current conflict).

((Sorry for any ‘obtuseness’ to this post. Fact of the matter is that it has been quite a while since I have grappled with Africa. I am resuming here as best I can, with an eye to resuming the fluidity established thus far. I think, if anything, LRR and I have learned that RPing a war with the utmost realism, as we have done, inch by inch and step by step as it were, is that long breaks make for confused RP. Ergo, I pray thee, lets just pick up from here. Spiz, are you serious about continuing to play Spain or not. TG me.

I had to at least start the diplomacy, but I have neglected my duties here for far too long. I am not moding when I say that I will be also negating my moves in Mauritania, and switching them over to Mali. Not moding because this is at the request of fellow AMW members. A caveat, though: If Spyr is going to start playing Mauritania, it has got to be done soon. As for time lines, I think we can assume, since I think we all have time now…especially me…that we are at our own time again. When the final history of this is written, we can adjust the final timeline to adjust everything…I just cant RP something happening in fall when we are in early Spring right now, anyone else know what I mean?

Now, after a few bits of brioche and some fine espresso, I shall demonstrate that France is hardly ‘licked’. Indeed, I say I have lost no more than 3,000 troops altogether, thereabouts, with perhaps a dozen helicopters and half as many jets, and a dozen and again as many tanks and armored vehicles. It has been long and expensive, but I haven’t even really even suffered a true defeat. Bon jour. Oh, and SeSe Saeko never existed in AWM, so yes, I am using his persona as one of my henchman. And if I have missed anything, please tell me people, remember I am only just returned! Ciao!))

RoyAfCom (Royal African Command), Fte. Ste. Jeanne d’Arc, Kingdom of Algeria

To the thunderous sound of one hundred thousand boots wheeling around on the vast concrete parade ground of Fte. Ste. Jeanne, with trumpets booming and drums shocking the air, fifes keeping time and regimental flags blowing about in the breeze, Monsieur Guillame-Louis Roche-Aymon, le Duc de Broglie, (War God Broglie as he was refereed to in the shining corridors of Versailles, mounted a grand platform. The entire panoply of France’s coats-of-arms blew in the crisp late winter wind about the high platform he stood upon, surrounded by generals, aides-des-camps, and nobles come to see the spectacle. High behind him, verily plastered to one high and stout wall of the fort, was a feudalist realism poster of His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste, smiling benevolently upon them all.

War God Broglie, Minister of War to the Most Christian King, had come to take personal control of the war in Africa. The entire war; he set up his standard at Fte. Ste. Jeanne, and would now control every step of the war as his master commanded. With him had come the entire VI Corps of the Gardes Francaises. All together now the French, to say nothing of their copious Algerian and Nigerian allies, with Spaniards and Tulgarians about here and there, to just under 400,000 troops. The Royal Vanguard Legion and the III Corps in Cote d’Or et d’Ivoire, and the IV Corps in Mali. All these troops, alongside hundreds of thousands of Algerians again and Nigerians, fell under the absolute jurisdiction of M. le Duc de Broglie.

“By God, we shall show these savages!” he boomed as a cheer rose from the men. Like it or not, Frenchmen were in lock step with the regime these days: all resistance to their absolute god on earth having been extinguished by potent ideology, victorious gains that removed the stains of France’s republican features, and by a Catholic Church invigorated to such levels as had not been seen since the spread of the Gospel itself! And, of course, the few revolting French communards that tried to spoil the whole thing had been quickly hung, or, more likely, languished their days away in the Bastille, with a new torture being inflicted upon them every hour, night and day.

“With the Spring, with the dawn, with our King: victory! And always, always: Mon métier a moi c’est d’etre royaliste! Vive le Roi!” Kettle drums and trumpets drowned his voice has he dismissed the troops to their departure points, and he himself proceeded to the gargantuan command room.

As he took his seat the various generals and colonels of the Command Staff, many imported from the Marshalry in Strasbourg and Admiralty in Cherbourg, presented him with the hundreds of commands and orders he would have to plan, sign and execute.

War raged all over the world, now, de Broglie thought as he lit a cigarette and took a long pull on it. He exhaled it slowly, and took a simple note from the pocket of his smashing uniform. On it was scribbled a very short phrase, in the King’s own hand, given to him just before the crown majestical departed to London:

Ecraser l’infame.

Gathering himself, he took command, and pressed on forward. He would end the war in Africa. A special order that night was issued to the officers of the Grande Armee: All Indian and/or Soviet combatants or civilian support attaches apprehended are to be turned over at once to la Marechaussee Special Medical Brigade Commandos for immediate and orderly liquidation. If Special Medical Brigade Commandos are not on hand, communist prisoners are to have their throats cut, to be left where they lie---no mercy or quarter will be given to the communists. So much for the filthy little men things.

He briefly signed it M. le Duc de Broglie, by authority of the King.

He would take the blade and cut damned ECOWAS’ throat in one last great press, enjoying the fine satisfaction of butchering the troublesome inferior-continent dwellers like pigs for sport along the way. One last great push, and victory. He thought up a wonderful idea: once he, War God, had won, he would declare V-A day! The King might be so happy that he, a lowly Duc, might even gain entrance via marriage into the Royal Family itself. He whistled as he worked.

Accra, Ghana…four days later

After a day of furious fighting, the French halted their advance, which so for had been a rather orderly front along the perpendicular axes of Independence Avenue and Castle Road. Monsieur le Marechal de Gueret, Commander of the Cote d’Or front, had received a transmission from RoyAfCom.

They halted as de Gueret read over the message. They dug in. As night came, a familiar sound rumbled in the skies.

A wing of Lancaster Heavy Bombers out of Nigeria was once again rumbling over Accra, seventy-two strong: the Cherubim wing, to be precise, the same wing that had decimated Accra in the first place. Accra was a rubble strewn death trap following the UGC and bombing raids, and it had cost thousands of Algerians and hundreds of Frenchmen to even take the half of the city gathered so far. M. le Duc de Broglie ordered the rubble cleared, and so it would be. The French forces fell back, they fell back all the way to their original positions beyond the Ring Highway.

The heavy bombers lumbered in formation much like a diamond quilt, each one precise. As one, the wing covered all portions of the ruins of Accra, at least for a bit beyond the ring road. French soldiers dug in. When everything was in position, on this cloudy and moonless night, the bombers released their payload with mathematical precision. Not hundreds of bombs fell, nor even dozens: each bomber only had room to carry one of the deadly weapons each, a seismically charged fuel air bomb.

The most powerful non-nuclear weapons in the Kingdom of France’s arsenal, the weapons were designed for the task of wiping an urban landscape clean. They drifted slowly down on parachutes, in the cloudy night. When one hit, their potency was illustrated. The one that landed first hit just beside an old beach-side motel. As it hit, a great rocking explosion broke the night. Unlike UGC, the thermal properties of this weapon did not burn, they disintegrated, even the concrete hotel. After the ear splitting crack that sounded, a huge ring of flame spread out in likewise mathematical precision. As the force of the explosion sucked in on itself, the oxygen present in the air itself caught fire. Only dust was left, and perfectly spherical and smooth craters were the bombs detonated. Only one instant after the first hit, the rest did, at least three landing to produce concentric circles around Accra’s airport. A primordial roar was heard for hundreds of miles, the scream of hundreds of square miles being vaporized to dust: every living thing, ever inanimate object (save of course a grand deep bunker, not many of hose likely to be in Accra) was wiped clean, as nuclear-proportions of dust rose into the sky, for satellites creating a pall that covered all West Africa. Pollution comparable to the explosion of Mt. Pinatubo was released.

Accra, quite simply, was gone. What was left was a flat wasteland, not radioactive, nor even still warm, but resembling the mounds of ash after a hot burning fire. The city that gutted by UGC was now officially non-existent. Well, at least no one would have to worry about fixing the city up anymore!

Then, for the attack was a total and devastating as it was quick, the attack began once again. Wearing gasmasks due to the toxic levels of dust and particles in the air, the RVL advanced. On ground wiped clean and smooth now they came with their tank support, hundreds of Leclerc battle-tanks followed by various editions of the AMX. Hundreds of Zulu helicopters and scout planes high above circled, waiting for any remaining enemy positions. With huge corridors of advance now opened up, the French forces were now free to advance en masse. 90,000 shocks troops of the RVL charged forward along a smooth and flowing front; a bonus, the rapid intense heat and following rapid intense cooling had left the earth ideal for transit. 70,000 Grades Francaises, tens of thousands of Algerians, now flowed through the city. Marching with them was the elite Royal Army Korean Heavy Infantry 3rd Division, some of the finest troops in the world, and marching at Louis-Auguste’s orders.

No doubt something was left of a defense, but with nothing to any longer to take shelter in, and the city you were defending now gone, and with a tidal wave of armor and troops moving in unison upon no doubt exposed positions, and with veritable clouds of scout and attack aircraft able to pick out and defensive location in a tiny instant, it would be a good bet to say that Accra, after months of stalling and days of awkward advances, would no longer be a problem to the plans of M. le Duc de Broglie and his lord the Most Christian King.

The road was open to Cape Coast, and the link up with le Marquis de Heurin in Cote d’Ivoire.

Ouagadougou, now Louisville, Upper Cote d’Ivoire…five days later

Burkinabe attacks were annoying, but MANPADS were easily detected by the scout aircraft and helicopters that stayed about the supply trains and advance columns, and so no matter how brave and scattered the defenders might be, they only got off at most two shots before they defended no longer. Still, the filthy crawleys did manage to hold up the main route of army, and that did them some credit.

That was, all said and done, very little cause to dampen the elation of His Most Christian Majesty’s Regiment de Suisse as twenty-four thousand Algerian regulars, the lead party of 23rd Algerian Division. The airport repaired, and enemy forces moving west, cargo aircraft touched down constantly: the 6th Division of the Royal Dauphin Corps was being flown in to relieve the Suisse, who were already being lifted out back to applause and lauding in le Patrie.

As the city was secured, Prince Emmanuel I, formerly a local strongman who called himself ‘Mobutu’ was landed to take control of the Upper section of his new domain. A staged rally using collaborative natives was shown in France to the delight of the Most Christian King’s subjects, who believed quite strongly that Africa was rejoicing with each step forward the French liberation took. Louisville was declared to be the new capital of Cote d’Ivoire, not Abidjan, just as Arx (formerly Lome) was declared to be the capital of Cote d’Or. Pragmatically the reason for the change of capitals was that, Louisville was, well, the only city save for Arx that had not been destroyed by the French liberation. With the city secure, another step to victory had been taken.

News was also coming in from the Kingdom of Algeria: VI Corps, fanning out by 12,000 men divisions, were sweeping south through Mali along a wide line, securing captured territory as they went. Every hour saw a consolidation of the supply route, which contrary to ECOWAS’ hopes now ran smoothly from Algeria to Upper Cote d’Ivoire and Mali, through Tsarist Niger, and into Cote d’Or. Harassment was a constant problem, but with regulars dispatched and so many key points of communication captured, and without saying keeping in mind the French forces shot first and asked questions later, things were now securing well.

On the subject of supply lines, they were well. A fine line of transport flowed from Nigeria through Cote d’Or and into the Ghanan advance. Supplies came north through Algeria and Mali, with the VI Corps taking up their positions, this route was becoming more secure as each moment passed. The French accrued losses to be sure. A truck here, a lone platoon on patrol there, it was not unheard of for even an armored vehicle or helicopter, were lost. However, these losses were totally insignificant to the overall plan to victory for two key reasons. The first, they were light raids and though they harrowed the lines never once did they stop the flow of goods. And, far cheerier, the second reason, the rebels only got to attack once before they were killed.

Insurgencies had to be dealt with at some time, and it was much easier when they came to you. So this is the lesson the Burkinabe troops would learn as they thrashed about, with their ATGW’s and such. And they learned it hard when the missile took their cares away. In a maximum of only one week, Upper Cote d’Ivoire would be reinforced with 70,000 French and Algerian troops.

It would be firmly secured and reshaped…as Benin and Togo were, as Ghana was being, and as Mali would soon be…

Mali…six days later

High General Hashimi Jean-Pierre gave the order:

“Artillery commence, men take posts.”

The trumpet rang, the MPRL’s and howitzers pounded away. Mirage-2000’s zipped over the target deploying UGC and LGB’s guided by satellites from on high, and soon Bamako joined the list of communist leaning African cities cleansed by the Most Christian King. It would be an Algerian possession once the war was over, and Louis I King in Algeria saw no reason to leave the capital standing. Algiers would do quite well, thank you very much. He received a clap on the back from M. le Duc de Broglie for his efforts.

Following the cannonade and bombardment, after which all major centers of resistance were crushed, High General Jean-Pierre allowed his 80,000 Algerian troops to storm the city. “Advance,” was the simply spoken command.

Louis I wanted to reward his men for their efforts, they took what they wanted after storming each block. The advance through Mali had cost the vassal state of France several thousand soldiers, it had been long and difficult, and now Bamako would atone for its former citizens indiscretions. The city was overwhelmingly Muslim after all, and at least on paper the soldiers of the Algerian Royal Army were Catholic. What better way to re-forge Bamako. So things did not get too out of line however (the last thing Versailles needed was a headline Rape of Bamako) the 20,000 French Gardes Francaises attached to the High Generals force played a dual role: they firmly rid the city of its, by all accounts, lightly guarded defense, and also prevented the energetic Algerians from running totally amuck.

There was air support, by certainly not as much as over the Accran battlefield, and even less due to the amount of airpower being used to quash roving ECOWAS forces before they had a chance to strike at French supply lines. However, there are Zulus and Mirages on hand, so the operation should proceed fairly straightforward.

In Eastern Mali, tens of thousands of French Regulars of the Gardes Francaises flowed through Mopti and fanned out south, moving like a fire blanket to extinguish the insurgency and at last solidly the truly massive gains Versailles had made in West Africa so far. Six Divisions fanned out from Mopti, three making for San and three moving south down into the Upped Cote d’Ivoire. Of the three that entered Upper Cote d’Ivoire, one again broke off and proceeded to secure Bobo-Dioulasso, and in doing so relieve the Czechs and in effect secure the entirety of what was once Burkina Faso. Since war with the west was now no longer a threat, all six divisions were supported not only by ramshackle Leopard I’s and older AMX models on loan from the Kingdom of Algeria: fully one Brigade of Order of the Golden Fleece was attached to each division, some thirty Leclerc battle-tanks and fifty support vehicles per Brigade.

The Progressive Bloc could posture and primp their prostitution, but the fact was the Kingdom of France was free to pour all its martial energies into the task of capturing the poorest yet most resource rich regions of the world. This fact was incarnate in far western Mali, where the Progressives would meet their greatest chagrin.

The scene was the city of Kayes, a vital communication point in north western Mali, and a point that would prevent any surprise moves from any direction, at least in a northerly oriented manner, upon activities currently being consolidated in Bamako and elsewhere in Mali. For, in the greatest secrecy and unbeknownst to the Progressive and ECOWAS-ic enemies of the allies, le Duc de Broglie had executed a stealth maneuver. The massive and rapid moving troops known as Force D had cut across the flat and empty deserts of eastern Mauritanian and were now in sight of Kayes, in a direct position to challenge the Progressive ‘counter-offensive.’

Force D was the most mobile force currently fighting in Africa. Seeing that peace would soon be achieved with the Anglo powers, the Kingdom of France was now preparing to pour more and more troops into it’s rightful domains. With the threat of naval interceptions in the Western Mediterranean also negated by forthcoming peace as well, veritable lines of French transports were free to bring vital war material from Marseilles to Algiers.

Two divisions, similar to the one smashing west from liberated Mali, were a detachment of the Royal Dauphin Corps, and like the force to the east contained some M-1 Abrams tanks; not 150, but 300 of the monolithic vehicles. Twice that many armored vehicles and various supply trucks moved along with the iron juggernaut. General Gerard de Chantel sous Bois commanded the force, which beside the heart of the Dauphin Corps detachment contained two divisions of Gardes Francaises, motorized, and one general armored cavalry division, which included two brigades of Leclerc battle tanks, two brigades of AMX-30’s and other assorted armored vehicles, and the vast numbers of transports and fuel trucks required to keep the column on the march. General de Chantel sous Bois was a top graduate of Saint-Cyr, the royal military academy, and a close colleague of Monsieur le Marechal de Gueret, who was currently plowing west with the main French force through Accra. Gerard was given the honor of playing France’s last major hand in the war. ECOWAS, cut off, now was swept round from the western back side, all retreats slowly being cut off.

All said it was the most expensive and armored single force yet operating in the African Theatre. It contained over 50,000 troops, all experienced veterans, crack troopers, and all motorized. The 2nd Sikh Brigade, 900 elite shock troopers, gave the force some color, they too were of His Most Christian Majesty’s Royal Army. It contained over 400 tanks, over 700 support vehicles and armored troop carriers and transports.

With them were Leger Afrika, the brave Tulgarian allies of Versailles who were on their way to claim for themselves Senegal. What fine company the Leger was in, with the crème de la crème of the French forces in Africa.

It would be interesting to see how strongly Kayes could resist. Flying support over them were no Mirages, either of the III of 2000 variety. The Ordu du Saint-Esprit wing La Reine flew cover over them, and they operated Dassault-Rafales. Of the 72 craft 40 were designed especially for ground attack missions, and the sleek black jets fairly buzzed about this ‘knock-out-punch’ force.

For this is what the force was intended to do, what they intended to do was obvious. First, they would prevent an escape of ECOWAS forces to the north when High General Hashimi Jean-Pierre finally smashed his boot down upon the gourd of Mali, lifting the ripe melon to savor its sweet juices. Second, they were to intercept and decimate the Igovian force currently heading their way out of Senegal. Having done that, they were to sweep into Senegal and deposit Leger Afrika, in the process having closed the net about ECOWAS for the garrote induced kill.

All said and done, Force D made the vicious French advances elsewhere look like a sunny tea party in Bristol.

Canary Islands…only hours after the War God issues his orders

Le Marechal de Gras du Mont, the formidable admiral who had gained for His Most Christian Majesty laurels at the Battle of the Glorious 12th of June, received the first order from the new Supreme Commander of the war itself.

Mon cher seiur, our King has given me permission for you to ignite boilers and generators, and prepare to sally forth with the fleet. Contact your Spanish and Russian colleagues, and begin your maneuvers to crush the Soviet fleet. May God be with us, once again. Vive le Roi!

Immediately the war hero admiral was speaking with his Spanish and Russian fellow admiral war heroes. Only minutes after all the men had conferred, sub-human satellites would not doubt pick up the massive heat blossoms rising from the Holy League fleet. Their intelligence experts would know it could only mean one thing: a battle three times as large as the Glorious 12th of June, against an enemy in home waters with near supplies, while they were half way around the world from any serious allied portage.

A force well over twice the size, far more recently battle tested (and victorious to boot), and far more zealous than the Progressive meddlers was gearing up to leave harbor and seal the fate of Africa, and the Holy League itself, in one fell swoop. The fleur-de-lys, the Pillars of Hercules, the double headed eagle of the Groznyy’s all were raised high. As the fleet prepared to sail, and indeed got underway with great fanfare (comparisons to the Battle of Lepanto were spoken by all three Holy League nationalities), the three admirals chattered aboard the magnificent Cherbourg class battleship Roi de Soleil, for no greater reason than it had the most opulent state rooms.

What did they discuss? The annihilation of the Progressive fleet.

OOC:
I cant be hugely active, six A-levels and numerous other things eats time like anything, but im certainly serious of playing out this massive naval battle, that will make the 12th of June look like a Skirmish, indeed it will most likely go down in the AMW History books as an opening skirmish in this engagement, but can someone do a map with arrows to explain what on earth is going on.

OOC-I had made a post about this once, but it got lost, I shall just outline what I am committing in this theatre, and you all can update me as to what would be reasonable to expect.

Regent Ghosni Mubarrak was quite happy with the direction his nation had taken in the years since they had voluntarily taken the Tsarist yoke. His industrial capacity was exploding, with the exploitation of his resources being helped by the massive capital and investment of the Tsarist and HL investors, as well as the ever present Quinntonian oil money and that, coupled with the fact that the Tsarists had so much Soviet era hardware to get rid of, meant that his military power had transformed in that time. He was reasonably certain that he was among the most powerful, if not the most powerful indigenous African military forces on the continent. And his target, in order to support the French offensives, was Niger. The vast nation to his north, bordering troublesome Libya. And for some time now, his armies had been subjugating its people with the full power and fury of the new Tsarist military machine that they possessed. They had not seen much in the way of resistance, but as they arrived in heavier and heavier strength along the border to Libya, that could change. But they had plans for that as well.

The Minister of Defence, a tactical genius named General Kuwabara, was in direct command of the offensive in Niger, which had the luxury of not labouring under the racial passions that the rest of the Royalist offensives did. These were black Africans invading black Africans after all. He commanded an impressive force that had been deployed, that was organised thus:

5 Divisions Heavy Mechanised, 50,000 troops, 1500-2000 pieces of armour
5 Divisions Light Mechanised, 50,000 troops, 1000-1500 pieces of armour
15 Divisions Heavy Infantry, 150,000 troops, 1500-3000 pieces of armour
10 Divisions Light Infantry, 100,000 troops, 0-1000 pieces of armour
Troop Total-350,000 troops, 4,000-7,500 pieces of armour

This was of course being supported by the Nigerian Air Force, who had a significant strength in helicopters, though their technology was almost laughable by some modern standards when it came to their fighter aircraft. Nevertheless, the General commanded an air support division equalling almost half the Nigerian force:

MiG-21 “Fishbed”-(150)
MiG-23M “Flogger” (50)
Mig-25 “Foxbat” (15)
Su-24 “Fencer” (10)
Su-25 “Frogfoot” (10)
Mil Mi-24 helicopter gunship- (150)


This massive invasion force was tearing through the heart of Africa with a bloody vengeance, and though the some 400,000 French troops were spread all over West Africa, these troops had but one are to tame, and they would do so. Those troops that were pouring into the border region between Libya and Niger were definitely enthusiastic, and started setting up patrols and defensive constructs along the huge border. Beyond light skirmishing, they had not seen much fighting, and what they had seen, they were able to smash into oblivion with their far superior numbers. They were very wary about Soviet aircraft coming into their combat zone, and though their combat helicopter force would be able to stack up against any in the world for firepower, technology and flight hours, the rest of their air force were not so confident. They stayed for the most part in the southern half of the nation, content to do groundstrike sorties and build their pilots confidence. If they started to see significant resistance from the ground they were ordered to pull back and either move into the area in force by air, or barring that, allow the ground forces to take the area with their support. If their was resistance by air in anything approaching a fourth generation fighter, they were to bug out immediately for home, under cover of the AA and SAM banks in Nigeria, and call in help from the French, whose Rafale 2000s would be a generation 4.5 and more than capable of engaging anything that they came up against. Meanwhile, a request was sent to Tsarist High Command that was asking for anything from a MiG-27 and up. A formal request was made for sustained French air support in the northern parts of the nation.

Of course, the Regent had asked the Duma to accept the concept of going to a total war, which was accepted after some debate. All High School programs were cancelled and all reservists were ordered to report to their respective military bases. The students were now ordered into the work force to replace those men and women who were now joining the military. Rationing was ordered, but for the time being it was to be light, and would not take place for a couple of weeks, allowing people to stock up.

As for the Navy, Chief of the Naval Staff (CNS) Vice Admiral Sir Gta Adekeye was very busy these days, he had just ordered Rear Admiral Ba Raji to take the 2nd Tsarist Fleet into blue water and support the engagement of the HL powers with the allied Progressive Fleet. It promised to be the largest naval engagement in history, and the Nigerians were eager to prove that their pride, the Navy, was up to any challenge. The 1st Fleet was ordered to take on the reservists and make it their responsibility that the Coastal areas of Nigeria be free of hostiles at all costs. The 3rd Fleet was subsequently ordered to do broad patrols along the trade lines into the Atlantic, to protect civilian shipping in the region while attacking Progressive shipping of all types. They began immediately, sinking a pair of freighters that flew Soviet colours.

In all, Mubarak was quite happy with how things were going so far. He was far from happy with the state of his air force, but he had never planned on fighting a military as powerful and advanced as the Soviets. But just to be sure, he began to gather another wave of troops that could be moved into Niger should things become harder, and began to gather them on the northern Nigerian border. They were:

5 Divisions Light Mechanised, 50,000 troops, 1000-1500 pieces of armour
5 Divisions Heavy Infantry, 50,000 troops, 500-1,000 pieces of armour
10 Divisions Light Infantry, 100,000 troops, 0-1,000 pieces of armour
5 Divisions Elite Paratroopers, 50,000 troops, 0-1,000 pieces of armour
1 Division Elite Ball Python Troops, 10,000 troops, armour unknown
Total troops-260,000 troops, 1,500-4,500 pieces of armour

These troops were to be held right now as the invasion force did their thing and just brought in if the situation on the ground become untenable, or if there began to be resistance coming from Libya/the Soviets. They would make a single major drive for the Libyan border in that case and begin to make war from that position.






This, and the fact that Lord Kiba Morgan was now on the move into Niger for a reported “humbling of Libya” made the Nigerians very sure of themselves. Of course, they kept a close eye on developments in London while this was occurring. But for the time being, they were being moved, along with the Russian peacekeeping forces in the region to the south of Niger to set up a new camp. They had not started their movement yet, but they would represent a totally unknown factor in this conflict, no one here aside from the French had yet fought a Lavragerian warrior.


Nigerian Factbook: http://z9.invisionfree.com/NS_Modern_World/index.php?showtopic=314&st=0&#entry1372035

Tsar Wingert the Great.

OOC: i hope this is OK, Ac has beena bit quite for RL reasons but think the general consensus was that they were OK with the deployment of "Allied" forces in thier northern territories, i'm still not sure what happens in terms of action once we get deployed there but i thought i had better make soem sort of post to note the deployment progress.


The Blantyre rail head was its usual chaotically busy self but today, as with the past few weeks, the cargo was different. Instead of cars, electronics and aircraft parts the items being loaded into freigh cars and low loader trucks were of a more grim and deadly nature. From the hulking shapes of upgraded centurions belonging to the continent's premier armour force* to stacks of freshly manufactured missiles and ammuntion and the ranks of well trained infantry the newly titled 1st Divsional Combat Group was on the march.
Consisting of:
No 1 Dragoon Divsion (Claymore divsion)
No 2 Light cavalry battlaion
No 1 Heavy Brigade (the 4 horsemen)
No 2 regiment (light) Strathdonian horse artillery
No 3 regiment (heavy) Strathdonian horse artillery
No 7 regiment (mobile) Strathdonian horse artillery
No 9 regiment (missile) Strathdonian horse artillery
No 12 regiment (air defence) Strathdonian horse artillery
No 2 and 3 battalions Strathdonian Green jackets
1st Strathdonian Rifle Regiment
No 1 and 4 Squadrons The Strathdonian Corps of Engineers
No 2 and 3 Logistial brigades
This was the single largest direct deployment in Strathdonian history, only exceeded in numbers by the Nyasaian contribution to Imperial forces in ww2.

Of course while the direct deployment by the ground segment of the SDF was the msot notable, they would never fight without support from the continent's most advanced airforce: the SADF which was making its own preperations with serveral fighter, support and helicopter squadrons beginning thier deployments.


*based on the fact that the Strathdonian cavalry get pretty much US/isrealli levels of training with fully instrusmented manouver rnages, simulators, etc and the fact that they use the worlds 2nd most powerful anti tank gun (the msot powerful being the strathdonian design 105/120super magnum used by the aussies)

OOC: Strathdonian involvment in the air war will be very interesting since our mirage 2000s actually have a slight edge electronics wise over the French Rafales. Missile wise i still need to sort out what i am using instead of MICA as my BVR missile since with NGs revised timeline there is now way in hell i ever got them, most likely i am using Derbys although there is a chance i have meteors, My Mirages would certainly be capable of carrying them in terms of short rnage missiles it is ASRAAM all the way.

I also have a quick question, how long after the tsarist take over in nigeria are things happening? if it is long enough there might be a slim chance of LRR and I to bring our new fighters in.

Ghana

Ghanaian forces can't do much in the face of the French bombers except curse them, and doubtless much of the city is obliterated by the enemy's fuel-air bombs. What Ghanaian forces remain, most of them battalions from the largely un-committed Ghana Regiment, retreat to the west, and although the capital is lost they can still delay the enemy's advance towards Abidjan. The enemy still has several major urban areas along the coastal road to negotiate, and at each of these the Ghanaian Army is quite determined to cost the Frenchmen a few days at least. Highway infrastructure, so vital to the resupply of a modern army on the move, is demolished, while the roads left intact are sewn with booby traps and barricades. Even as they advance across Accra the French don't have things all their way, however. A few enterprising Milan teams, which moved to occupy the even more devastated cityscape left by the French bombers, engage enemy APCs and tanks, their position made altogether more exposed by the general leveling of the capital.

No Frenchman, however, bothered to take the Akosombo Dam, at the head of Lake Volta, and Ghanaians are determined to make it count. General Yeji in the highlands north of Accra prepares his forces for a major operation, while, at the dam itself, parties of sappers haul explosives down into its concrete structure. If things go as planned the Ghanaians will bring Lake Volta down on the heads of the Frenchmen still on the Coastal Plain, certainly destroying their bridgeheads on the Volta and flooding the surrounding terrain. Perhaps with their armored vehicles rendered useless the French will be less well-equipped to stand against the Ghanaian Army. With no armor to back them up, traditional French rank-and-file tactics are suicide against an army equipped with machine guns...or bolt-action rifles for that matter. And the clouds of debris released by the enemy's bombing of Accra seem likely to disrupt French air operations, affording Yeji a valuable window of opportunity to conduct major maneuvers without being harassed by enemy fighter-bombers.

In the meantime northern Ghana's incredibly limited transport infrastructure is made even less usable by the ten thousand regular soldiers assigned to defend the frontier with Burkina Faso. Trees are felled across dirt roads tens of feet thick, and improvised anti-tank mines are buried along the routes likely to be used by the enemy's mechanized columns. The thought of long enemy columns halted on narrow roads, surrounded by thick forest, is terribly attractive. And for the enemy there aren't many ways of avoiding that kind of situation. Though Ghana's still-formidable army finds itself in an unenviable position, without any port cities to be evacuated from, it is given all the more incentive to fight on. If the enemy cannot be expected to refrain from massacring noncombatants, soldiers do not consider themselves liable for the enemy's sympathy.

Burkina Faso

Burkinabe raiders are rarely deterred by the French, who cannot, after all, guard the entirety of a road almost two hundred kilometers long. Frenchmen will find themselves not so able to prevent the raids as they would like, given their sporadic nature and the fact that, after one or two recoilless rifle rounds or Milan rockets are sent downrange, the Burkinabe troops generally abscond at high speed. When SAMs are used they are used in defense of those very same patrolling airplanes and helicopters that will be otherwise busy hunting the raiding parties that concentrate on the French logistics train. And the Swedish-made Pjpv-1111 is entirely capable of cutting clean through the frontal armor of a Leopard 1 and can probably put a Leclerc out of action with a hit on the vehicle's side armor. The same goes for the Milan, and with these weapons the Burkinabe troops can strike from outside the enemy's machine gun range and from behind cover. And infrastructural limitations suggest that a delay encountered anywhere along the one main road from the Malian border to Ouagadougou will lead to stoppages along the whole line of traffic.

Still, valuable men are lost, along with important pieces of equipment, and the sheer weight of numbers being brought to bear by the enemy will likely cause such attacks, mounted by regular soldiers at least, to cease. It will probably be better, many units reason, to wait until the bulk of the French army as moved on. In the long run, though, the people of Burkina Faso are just as prepared and just as inclined to mount a protracted guerrilla struggle as anywhere else in ECOWAS, so the enemy is welcome to interpret the cessation of mounted raids as the obliteration of Burkinabe resistance to enemy occupation. And of course, as the criminal (he couldn't be a warlord in Burkina Faso, dominated by Blaise Compaore's presidency) Emmanuel is crowned in Ouagadougou, Burkinabe guerrillas in the city continue to battle with French occupation forces, armed with their superior knowledge of the urban layout and France's need to keep the town intact.

Mali

Algerians advancing into Bamako find the city largely abandoned by the Malian Army, save for the mines and explosives that Mali's 5th Regiment D'Infanterie planted, and a skeleton force of commandos. Perhaps to their chagrin the French also find Senou International Airport devastated by the Malian sappers, and are thus robbed of a forward airfield from which to launch sorties into Guinea and Senegal. Of course, the airport's single runway and limited dispersal areas probably wouldn't have been altogether much use anyway. Disappointment is in store for the reckless Algerians when they encounter Malian commando sections, sometimes sporting as many as four PKM machine guns per eight infantrymen. With their heavy firepower and high mobility, these commando units hope to slow the Algerians' pace of advance as the enemy thinks twice about its next moves. Of course, Bamako will nonetheless be overrun, and its inhabitants massacred, although if the French ever wanted to make willing subjects out of the Malians, or indeed out of any Muslim African, they decided the issue.

All this is essential for the regular army regiments withdrawing as fast as possible into Senegal and Guinea, in the hopes of mounting a more effective defense in more accommodating terrain. Highway infrastructure demolished in their wake will also likely serve to delay the enemy's pursuit, although for how long is anyone's guess.

Force D might have negotiated the Mauritanian Sahara easily, but approaching Kayes is a different matter entirely. Flat desert turns into a hilly, elevated landscape, the likes of which channels armored forces quite handily. The province is not heavily defended, and the majority of the Malians passing through it do not intend to stay there. Only one Malian and one Senegalese infantry battalion are there to hold ground, but this force is equipped with more than the usual supply of anti-tank weaponry. Deployed in the steep hills, recoilless rifle and Milan teams wait for the enemy tanks as they negotiate the few roads headed towards Kayes town. Force D's existence to begin with surprises Union analysts, who have difficulty keeping track of France's seemingly bottomless pool of military equipment and units, but its advance does not come without warning. A whole armored corps, with its associated logistics train, cannot exactly hope to hide. Not from satellites, not from radio intercepts, not from men on camel back with binoculars and hand-held radios. So when it does arrive, it finds the opposition very much prepared, in favorable terrain and with weaponry quite capable of dealing a fatal blow to anything from the VBL to the Leclerc.

Rafales too might find themselves used to track down single anti-tank teams, achieving perhaps four enemy kills at great risk to the multi-million dollar fighters, not really suitable for close air support missions, and often engaged by CA 95 MANPADs or 14.5mm machine guns. Sleek though they may be, the Rafales aren't about to seriously disturb the ECOMOG defenders of Kayes. It is perhaps one of the only instances where the Malians can be thankful for their uselessly small armored corps.

South of Mopti, elements from the scattered 2ieme Division try their best to avoid the sweep, abandoning heavy vehicles and setting off on foot in many cases. Advancing Frenchmen will still find themselves regularly attacked by enemy antitank weaponry, however, and ambush parties lay low in foliage and terrain features while the French continue their painstaking sweep against forces far more mobile and flexible than their own. Still, many hundreds of Malian soldiers are killed, and valuable equipment lost. The threat to the supply lines around Mopti posed by these troops is, for the time being, done away with. That is not to say the earlier columns don't get their attacks in. AML-90s still arrive at the roadside, cannons loaded and ready to ravage a line of enemy trucks, and retreat after doubtless causing much damage to the enemy's ridiculously long umbilical cord stretching hundreds of kilometers across hostile territory.

Senegal

Facing Force D and the Leger Afrika in Senegal are some 31,500 Senegalese, Malian, and Gambian regulars, plus a force of 2,000 Soviet marines. 34,000 irregulars stand armed and ready as well, although these will likely make their presence known later. The disposition of this force is varied; some 15,000 stand on the Guinean border, ready to prevent an enemy flanking maneuver against that nation, and the remainder positioned to cover Dakar and the coast. Frenchmen invading Senegal from Mali will find the middle of the country devoid of concentrated forces, since ECOMOG commanders are not eager to have their less-mobile forces flanked and destroyed, or smashed on open ground by hostile armor. At Dakar there is at least the chance of resupply or of naval gunfire support. Smaller company-sized elements do operate in the center of Senegal, though, ready to attack enemy supply lines and mount ambushes against armored columns.

The Dakar Peninsula is, after years of on-and-off work, as defensible as it will ever be. Tank ditches, minefields, and water obstacles form the outer layer of the fortifications, along with lengths of concertina wire. Closer to the capital there are concrete dragon's teeth, steel caltrops, and removable roadblocks, along with copies of the sturdy one-man bunkers scattered throughout Yugoslavia and Albania. At its narrowest point the Peninsula is divided by a ditch, crossed by a pair of bridges permanently rigged with demolition charges. And directly opposite the ditch, closer still to the center of Dakar, larger bunkers and fortified gun emplacements sit, reinforced to withstand artillery and aerial bombardment. Five thousand men man this barrier, with another five thousand holding ground ahead of it.

Atlantic Ocean

It comes as no great surprise that the Nigerian Navy, or rather the Russian naval squadron deployed to Nigeria, takes to the water in support of the fleet gathered around the Canary Islands. Ali Khan Marakkar remembered to account for it too, and waiting silently in the Gulf of Guinea are all six of the Soviet Ortiagon Class SSKs. As the noisy Russian-built warships motor out of port, the Indian submarines slowly but surely move in to engage them. Likely the Nigerians will be unaware of the submarines' presence, or at least unable to hear them over their own propeller noises, given the nature of their air-independent propulsion systems, effectively silent. With 670mm torpedoes and Charioteer ASMs the Soviets plan to send at least a few of the enemy to the bottom, and the six submarines pack quite a bit of firepower between them.

Nearer the Canary Islands a quartet of Anunkai Class nuclear-powered boats prepares to take more immediate action. Mangonel cruise missiles are loaded into torpedo tubes by the superbly-trained Soviet crews, loitering presently just off Nouadhibou but with much distance between them, while targets are designated amongst the warships sitting in Las Palmas. They aren't apt to be sitting in port for much longer, though, so time is of the essence. At once the four boats fire a salvo of Mangonels, 24 missiles in all. They break the Atlantic's surface in impressive fashion and begin their dash towards the Canary Islands at low level, moving at a stately 600 miles per hour. Their five hundred kilogram armor-piercing warheads promise to devastate whatever warships they hit, and their low-altitude approach should guarantee their not being detected for some time. Fortunately for the Anunkais, the Mangonel's long stand-off range allows it to be deployed from well without the enemy's areas of heaviest A/S coverage, and by the time Spanish P-3s arrive on the scene the boats will hopefully be long gone. But rather than quit the battle, the Anunkais plan to return and attack the Russians and French with either Charioteer missiles or 517mm torpedoes, using the noise put up by the enemy fleet to approach more or less unnoticed.

Indian surface warships under the command of Ali Khan Marakkar eagerly await the arrival of the enemy off Guinea. Frenchmen might have seen battle more recently, but there are captains in the Indian fleet that have seen ten surface engagements to the Frenchers' one, and crews likewise experienced and well-drilled. Unioners sank Bonstockian battleships off the Sakishimas, so why should the French be any different? And besides the Russians' Kirovs and Kuznetzovs, the Leaguers have no ships that can challenge the Indian superiority in terms of anti-ship missiles. For some time Marakkar can count on his own forces being the only ones firing, provided of course the Anunkais do their part and take-out some of the more worrying Russian ships. And if things do start to go very badly he need not stick around. A Combiner fleet is inbound, two days to his position, and with that he might expect to turn around and attack any League fleet in pursuit a second time.

Zanzibar, Tanzania, The African Commonwealth

No.18 Squadron arrives at the Soviet airbase on Zanzibar Island tired but thankfully intact, after a terribly long trip over the Indian Ocean. The twelve F(J).4FGA4s are far from where they are headed, though, and pilots are granted an hour's rest before setting off for Kinshasa. Fortunately the ground crews were ferried in earlier, aboard a mixture of IAF Andovers and commandeered civilian airliners, and await their aircraft at Kinshasa's airbase, having switched continents more comfortably. Though it will be the first IAF outfit to land in the African Commonwealth, it will not be the last, and five more squadrons of F(J).4s alone, Nos. 4, 7, 23, 25 and 46, are slated to make the trip within the space of one month, for a total of 72 fighters. Joining them in the African Commonwealth will be Soviet-made Springers from No.8 and No.37 Squadron, and No.9 Anti-Ship Squadron, formed of both Springers and Tornadoes and modified to deliver the BrahMos anti-ship missile. This force is deemed especially important, given that Kinshasa expects the Indians to provide for the defense of the nation from enemy bombers, the likes of which often sortie out from their bases in Nigeria. Probably the Soviets will provide the greater part of the air defense capability. The CAG does, after all, count many hundreds more combat aircraft in its inventory than the IAF does.

Also making good time for Zanzibar is INS Sindhudurg, accompanied by Rakshak and Trishul. Doubtless these vessels will not arrive in time to participate in the impending battle, nor will Vajra and the Indian battlegroup deployed at one point to take Mauritius. But if the battle results in a resounding defeat for the Indian forces, and given the numbers arrayed against the Marakkar's force that is not an impossibility, the Soviet and Hindustani reinforcements racing towards the Cape should arrive in time to prevent the loss of Angolan or Namibian harbors or the total destruction of the allied battlegroup. Dubbed Force R, the three ships travel at a fast 25 knots, untenable for the whole of the voyage, but a speed that might cut as much as a day off their trip to Zanzibar. Once refueled they plan to move equally quickly for Luderitz.

The INA's 4th Armored Division, lately used to invade and occupy Rajasthan, is loaded onto a group of Ro-Ro transports and troopships at Mumbai, and under the escort of no fewer than six Bengal-A corvettes makes its way towards Pebane. Dar es Salaam is a closer destination but Union commanders would rather not worry about getting the division's hundred and fifty heavy tanks ferried across Lake Tanganyika. Pebane at least is linked by rail with Lubumbashi and the African Commonwealth at large, or so Union route surveyors have been led to believe.

OCC: Before I forget, Union order of battle in Africa:

IV Corps (African Commonwealth) (120,000 troops)
4th Armored Division (150x MT-3)
5th Mechanized Infantry Division
6th Mechanized Infantry Division
8th Mechanized Infantry Division
19th Light Infantry Division
21st Light Infantry Division
24th Light Infantry Division
25th Light Infantry Division
26th Light Infantry Division (Reserve)
34th Light Infantry Division (Reserve)
No.18 Fighter Squadron
No.4 Fighter Squadron
No.7 Fighter Squadron
No.23 Fighter-Bomber Squadron
No.25 Fighter Squadron
No.46 EW Squadron
No.8 Attack Squadron
No.37 Attack Squadron
No.9 Anti-Shipping Squadron
No.59 Transport Squadron
No.134 Transport Squadron
No.41 Communications Squadron
No.121 Helicopter Squadron
No.109 Helicopter Squadron
1st Fleet
Flag Squadron (Ibrahim Haidari, Zhob, Sadiqabad, Rahimyar Khan, Amravati)
2nd Squadron (Chagai, Balotra, Ahmadpur East, Moro, Cadiz)
3rd Squadron (Ambajogai, Srivardhan, Parbhani, Vijay, Vikram)
1st Support Squadron (Sutlej, Aditya, Galle, Jodhpur)
2nd Support Squadron (Kaveri, Dudhana, Jyoti, Subroto)
-Force R (Sindhudurg, Rakshak, Trishul) (en route)
-Force G (Vajra, Dewanto, Balaghat, Tikamgarh, Sabarmati, Chennai, Cochin, Konkan) (en route)
-Ocean Escort Force (Graeme Igo, Damoh, Jhabua, Narsinghpur, Rajgarh)
-Sealift Force (Sandalwood, Teak, Babul, Shola, Pipal)
Amphibious Ready Force
-1st Marine Regiment
-4th Igovian Commando Battalion (en route)
-2nd Battalion, 1st Commando Regiment (en route)

V Corps (Eritrea) (35,000 troops)
6th Guards Tank Regiment (35x Centurion/75)
27th Light Infantry Division
39th Light Infantry Division (Reserve)
18th Light Infantry Division (Reserve)
No.21 Fighter Squadron
No.119 Antitank Squadron
No.120 Helicopter Squadron
Bombardment Force (Timor, Miyako Jima, Bengal, Betul, Chhatarpur)
3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment

Libya Force (Libya) (10,500 troops)
9th Parachute Division
2nd Commando Regiment
No.2 Attack Squadron
No.15 Fighter Squadron
No.1 Anti-Shipping Squadron

((OOC- Wow, are we ready to begin the largest naval battle in history gentlemen? Place your bets now! Okay, no time today, damn work, but let me set things up: no more naval combatants may enter the current theatre, or air support Strath...BTW, good and fine to see you back, until the battle has been played in 'real time'. It seems now that this is the main RP in Africa, that one crucial factor type of thing. The ball is now with Spain and Russia and I to respond, as LRR has opened the naval fighting. Therefore, please no more land posts until the naval battle has been concluded one way or another. We of the HL will do our best to begin this battle, I wonder what it will be called, ASAP, hopefully by a day or two at the very latest...after all, you want it to be worth it, dont you folks? Ciao))

My money's on the HL, but I am biased. As for a name, how about: Battle of the 5(?) Fleets. (Not sure how many nations involved here: you have France, Spain, Russia, LRR, CB, anyone else?)

(OCC: If there's any question, I'm ready to start now, technology disputes aside. I think we've enough of an understanding of things to make it work at this stage. As for names? We'll have to wait and see where it happens. Five fleets might work, but with the addition of the Combiners we might just have six nations heavily involved, and we mustn't forget Strathdonia's two general warfare frigates, which represent a total commitment as far as Lilongwe is concerned. And the warships of at least four nations, Beth Gellert, the INU, Strathdonia, and Ghana, possibly the African Commonwealth, are under unitary command. We might as well have the battle first.)

OOC: Since the majority of the Spanish Fleet went on an abortive mission to the channel islands, does this mean they will be relative latecomers to the engagement?

((A few notes. First, please give Wingert a chance to respond after me, its only fair since schedules are pressed and wee are trying to move in unison, it shall be very much appreciated. Indeed, the reason I posted today is I don’t want to be seen as an obstructionist, so voila. Second, my dear Spiz, I would say that your fleet is on equal setting and course as the Armandians, therefore you wont be able to join in the initial bout, but will join soon after I suspect. So just wait for the opening maneuvers perhaps. I am also going to suggest a name for the battle, I think it works, and it sounds good to boot. Okay, am pressed for time myself, lets get this on!))

Battle of the Africa Coast

Monsieur le Merechal de Gras du Mont, Grand Admiral of His Most Christian Majesty’s fleet, poured another glass of vodka for the Tsar’s maritime strongman Grand Duke Ivan Sergeiovich Kuzunov. The two admirals were drinking in the opulent state room of HMCMS Roi de Soleil, a Cherbourg class battle hulk and flagship of the French fleet. Having formulated their strategy days, even weeks ago, the seasoned seaman (with du Mont only months fresh from his naval victory over the Anglo powers) relaxed and swapped sea shanties. Cigarette smoke hung thick in the room. Then they toasted, and downed the fine French-made vodka. In the distance, a bell rang, and within seconds an aide-de-camp rushed into the state room. Both admirals looked up in unison, le Merechal extinguishing his cigarette.

“Monsieur l’Admiral! We have verified incoming missiles: 24 Mangonels, ETA 8 minutes, sir! The communists are afoot!” The grandly uniformed aide then stood at attention.

The two admirals rose, and shook hands.

“We had better begin this then,” said de Gras du Mont “I wish you God Speed to victory, monsieur, and indeed may God continue to defend the right.” The Tsarist admiral returned the handshake with strength, and then departed to his own flag ship to assume his own command.

Monsieur le Merechal then began the walk up to the command and control, instructing the aide as he went.

“Captain Camille, please sound general quarters, activate our defense grid. Inquire with the engineer as to the possibility of giving me 120% on the reactor. Monsieur Camille, you may deploy the fleet!”

A sharp salute, and then the trumpets rang out on the French fleet.

“Alert! Now hear this, now hear this: General Quarters!” Sharp alarms began to ring, fast ringing bells played. They made a very loud whooping sound.

The French fleet, as it had done on the Glorious 12th of June, formed its lines, lines that had crushed a fleet far better funded and far better trained than the ramshackle hordes of hell now opposed to King, Pope, and God.

As the battleships formed their lines, and the light cruisers and frigates formed theirs, as the corvettes and aircraft carrier took their position, when the sun was hanging low on the huge ocean, the Progressive missiles approached. Twilight was ignited when the French war fleet hurled out waves of anti-missile fire, walls of lead flying from the state of the art CIWIS systems. One by one the communist missiles were dusted away, the royal fleet having withstood twice the volume and fourfold the quality assaults from the Anglos this red pebble throwing was only a warm up exercise. The battleships led the fleet in pouring pounds of blazing lead into the air, though voluminous fire came too from the light cruisers and frigates.

At the conclusion of the assault le Merechal de Gras du Mont had taken his post in the commander’s chair. Reports were coming in: the fleet was ready, reactors on maximum power. Orders went out at once.

“The Charles de Gaulle may now turn into the wind.” And so the French aircraft carrier turned about, guarded with picket ships of its own and assuming only to aerially defend the fleet, Rafales shot upwards in their elevators onto the chaotic deck, with the crew all a scramble.

“Monsieur Camille, get me firing solutions of the Progressive fleet! All batteries to prepare a full salvo if you please, turn us into the wind too! Full speed ahead!” L’Admiral then looked out from the conning tower and stood, pouring over a satellite display screen and marking things with an electronic pen.

The proud Roi de Soleil led the French fleet in the maneuver, its sharp beak cutting the water and sending tidal waves alongside the hull of the battleship. It led the line of battleships, Cherbourgs and Krakens, into the crisp wind. Signal flags snapped crisply on the ships superstructures and the fleet got underway. In the second line came the frigates and light cruisers. Everything was done with the ease of rehearsal, smooth and efficient. After all these very same sailors had survived and indeed triumphed in the greatest naval battle heretofore, they were not about to be daunted by their most hated enemy. They wanted to tear into the Progressive flesh like a hungry lion on a water buffalo, ripping and shredding, rolling in the warm blood that spurts from the cow’s jugular. All about the Grand Fleet elevators were delivering the Exocet II ASM’s into their launch tubes, top of the line targeting computers were turning out the final solutions for fire on the red fleet. The turn was then completed, the signals displayed: standing by.

Monsieur le Merechal de Gras du Mont would address the fleet as he had before the Glorious 12th of June, he was the Kingdom of France’s greatest war hero. Next to the underway Battle of the Africa Coast the 12th of June was but a practice rung. The entire war hung on this battle. If the Lieutenants of God triumphed here, and were able to inflict a total defeat on the reds no matter the cost, the war in Africa was a good as won. Experts at St. Cyr predicted that regular ECOWAS resistance would collapse immediately thereafter, dovetailing the besting of their sub-human masters. If the Lieutenants of God failed here Europe itself would be vulnerable to the Soviets, and Africa would become a quagmire to say the least, if not a massive bedrock of the Bolshevik menace.

History itself hung on this one moment. Apropos that history hung on the largest naval battle in the recorded history of mankind. The finest flowers of the nobility and doughtiest commoners in the Kingdom of France manned this fleet, and they were going to give it their all. Upon them hung the fate of the Restoration, the Papacy, and the continued existence of The Right itself.

Loudspeakers relayed the message throughout the fleet:

“Hero-sons of the glorious Kingdom of France. Before you is battle, behind you conquest. You stand now in the light of history. Everything we have built in Europe is now your domain to retain or loose. If we destroy the communists here, at this place and this time, our Restoration shall have been fulfilled, we shall have accomplished our oaths to God and Our Most Christian King. If we fail, if we falter, the days of Christianity itself are numbered. Glory awaits you, in death or in life! Frenchmen, will you be lacking in courage?”

Deafening cheers arose from the fleet as adrenaline began pumping into Gaul’s sailors. Cries of Vive le Roi echoed about, cries of devout Credo!, I believe, filled the stout hearts of France with joy. Up went the colors of battle, up went the armored Seraphim and righteous Arch-Angels. Up went the militant fleur-de-lys of blue on a red field, up went His Most Christian Majesty’s personal style…a thousand gold fleur-de-lys on a field of solid white.

Flushed with pride, confident in God and his skills, Monsieur l’Admiral gave a strong nod, and the battle truly got underway.

The Grand Fleet answered the twenty-some soviet missiles with 146 Exocet IIs. They spat forth copiously from the battleships, lancing off against the sunset to slay the demons of hell. Too did they rise from the light cruisers and frigates.

Brest Class Frigate HMCMS Blade launches Exocet IIs (http://www.armedforces.co.uk/navy/listings/navyseadartb.jpg)

It was a moment that stole the breath away as viewed from the conning tower of the Roi de Soleil. Wave after wave of fiery Exocets leapt away from His Most Christian Majesty’s fleet, one dozen after another. Against the backdrop of a sunset that illuminated a hopefully soon to be Holy League West Africa the spectacle was awesome. This was the pride of France. The sky itself was demarcated as the hundreds of vapor trails from the zipping missiles crisscrossed the firmament.

Targets lit up as locked and confirmed. No less than a full hundred of the missiles were lobbed en masse specifically at the Soviet Black Flag class heavy gunboat and the Indian Union’s Invincible class aircraft carrier. The remainder were evenly dispersed to strike the remained of the red armada, but with an emphasis on support ships. One after another the missiles locked and reached maximum velocity, hurtling like vengeance towards the communist horde. Interestingly a total of ten were disproportionately targeted at the protestant Strathdonian swine ships, all two of them.

Having long passed the point of reasonable expense, the French were showing they intended to pour everything they had into this penultimate battle. Although missile duels during the 12th of June had proven largely if not totally ineffective, there was a true method behind it. The Holy League fleet was able to be regularly supplied on an immediate basis from a plethora of regional bases, from Spain to the Canaries to Morocco. The Communist fleet was half way around the world from reinforcements, and was dependant on what they had brought with them. Sooner or later the reds would run out of ammunition. Until then, damn the cost, the result will be worth it, so decreed the Sun of Versailles.

When communist radars and feeds alerted them to the massed French missile attack, they would also detect massive French aerial movements on the African continent. Flying from Southern Morocco a total of two wings of French Ordu du Saint-Esprit Mirage-2000’s lifted off, equipped with a variety of missiles and long range fuel tanks. That is to say 144 aircraft, but, too, rising with them were the Golden Spurs of the ODSE, 72 Dassault-Rafales. It would be a long time before the massed air attack could make contact with the reds, but their presence would certainly dampen Soviet desires to strike with aircraft of their own against the Holy League fleet, who besides the continental French aircraft had marine flyers of their own.

Total victory, or total defeat, the communists would get no mercy. As le Merechal de Gras du Mont barked out orders and exchanged encoded signals with the Russian fleet he also awaited reports of when the Spanish would arrive in theatre, and so deliver the coup de gras against the demon sub-humans. As the battle got underway with missile strike and surprise air launches sailors affixed machine guns to the railing of the ships.

Why? But to shoot stranded Igovian and Unioner sailors in the water, of course.

OOC-Magnificient! I will be posting here soon, I am in the middle of the week from hell, but after that we have a week off, so I should be able to make a significant post this week, and then really get into the nitty gritty next week. This is really out of my comfort zone, but I have been studying this stuff for a few months now, and we will see how it goes!

Please hold off posting any reponse until I have an opprtotunity. I know that will slow things down somewhat, but NG and I are supposed to be acting on concert with this opening, so I would just appreciate some patience. Thank you all, and good luck!

WWJD
Amen.

(OCC: For your sake I'm going to pretend that attack didn't happen, since no Exocet is going to fly from the Canary Islands to down around Guinea on my watch. If you want to shoot 144 ASMs into the ocean that is fine by me, but Indian and allied warships are currently nearer Cape Verde than they are the Canary Islands. Something tells me you didn't mean to let those missiles just drop into the ocean on their way towards the general location of the Indian fleet. The Indians aren't going to head much further north, since they aren't so daft as to put themselves solidly within the range of every Holy League combat aircraft in Morocco and the Canaries.

Just to make it more clear, the vessels that launched that missile salvo were four Soviet nuclear-powered submarines, sent far ahead of the main force in a deliberate effort to thin-out the enemy ranks before the primary engagement. They are presently making themselves scarce, but intend to return for a torpedo attack sooner rather than later.)

The Indo-Strathdonian 1st Fleet

Aboard the Zhob, the Indian commander prepares for battle in altogether more austere surroundings. Ali Khan Marakkar, his last name a Malayalam title once applied to the Zamorin admirals who fought-off Portuguese naval misadventures during the 1500s and 1600s, stares intently at the indicators of Franco-Russian ships shown to be headed south on the tactical plot, all the while formulating his strategy and going over contingencies in his head. He is strictly professional, a lifetime navy man who can spare no time for idle thoughts, or, like the Frenchmen and Russians, drink. Though decidedly harsh and cold, the Indians' commander is widely respected. Starting his service as an able rate (though this is the rule in Hindustan's navy, all officers being obliged to work their way up from the bottom), the young Ali Khan, at that time not Marakkar, rose to command a destroyer and then a squadron of destroyers, all the while proving his merit by consistently besting his Bedgellen opponents and through feats of immense personal courage. As such he has little respect for the enemy commanders, who have, by his count, seen one battle, and a relatively inconclusive one at that, to the Indian's dozen or so.

By his calculations (for a lifetime spent aboard warships has made the Marakkar a veritable human computer), the two fleets ought to arrive within striking distance of each other within the day, likely just after dark. The Indians would feel more comfortable if they were aboard proper destroyers, with light cruisers in support, and would be perhaps best able to deliver heavy torpedoes on the Frog ships of the line, sending them all to the bottom in a spectacular night assault. As it is no such thing looks set to occur, although Indian sailors have every confidence that they'll be able to lengthen the Navy's list of victories using missiles rather than torpedoes.

Ali Khan Marakkar is not pleased with the result of the Anunkai's cruise missile strike. Indeed, the missiles had been released not at all long after satellites detected heat signatures emanating from the League warships docked in Las Palmas, and, had they remained tied to the quayside, the Mangonels would doubtless have caused some damage. They are, after all, large and capable weapons systems, certainly able to sink a frigate or destroyer. But the Leaguers put to sea far more quickly than Union officers thought capable, and managed to shoot down all the incoming cruise missiles even in light of their low-altitude flight profile and relative speed. The Marakkar, an old destroyer man with dozens of engagements under his belt, would rather have engaged and destroyed the enemy in port, but League air superiority over the Canaries would have made that a suicide mission. A cruise missile attack made by his supporting submarine elements is the best he can do in light of the present situation.

As the Anunkais lay low and wait for the enemy fleet to approach within the range of their Charioteer missiles and 517mm torpedoes, the surface combatants continue to move northwest at a relaxed pace, towards a position just north of the Cape Verde islands, where Ali Khan Marakkar intends to do battle. Crews are ordered to general quarters as the Broadswords and Gauntlets in the outer A/S screen (some ten warships total) scour the ocean for the enemy's submarines and watch the skies for incoming strike planes, although the presence of those would be a surprise given the distance from any Holy League airfield. Russian Alfas are already heard by sonar operators. Although they are extremely quick, they are hopelessly noisy, and will without a doubt be the first submarines destroyed should they approach the Indians. More worrying are Oscars and Alukas, although those too are detectable and far less dangerous, by Union estimation, than Spaniard S-80s.

Sea Kings equipped with AEW equipment are deployed from INS Ibrahim Haidari, one of Hindustan's thoroughly humble aircraft carriers. Armaments are prepared on deck as the ship's fighter wing, composed of Sea Harrier FA2s, is readied for action. For some of the pilots, the coming engagement will be only the latest in a series of battles that they've fought, flying against Bedgellen MiG-21s, Drapoel Flagons and Bonstockian Gripens in essentially the same aircraft. What they might lack in operational capability, given the Harrier's inherent limitations, the Indian Navy's pilots probably make up for in terms of experience.

Far more potent is the Soviet contribution to the force, consisting of no fewer than four aircraft carriers. Prominent among them is CS India, the subcontinent's only large fleet carrier. Questionable standards of construction cause no small amount of worry on the Marakkar's part. Might a single enemy missile hit put one of his most important assets out of action? As with most things made in Dra-pol, the user takes his chances. Three Nibiru Class escort carriers, not so unlike Quinntonian Tarawa Class, are also included in the battlegroup. Concorde, Krondstadt, and Belinus, the three Nibirus, carry a fair few A/S helicopters aboard, along with Puffin strike fighters. Along with Ibrahim Haidari these vessels launch their helicopter-based AEW assets, providing the fleet with long-range radar coverage and preventing a repeat of the RWN's Falklands embarrassments. Puffin V/STOL fighters are meanwhile readied on the decks of the four Soviet carriers, some of them armed with long-range D'Angelot Maudit and short-range DRAB AAMs, others sporting two or three Vanguard ASMs, weapons roughly equivalent to the Exocet, Harpoon, Kh-35, or Sea Eagle.

First priority for Ali Khan Marakkar is the Russian force. The Frenchmen, although they might lead the world in terms of pomp and show, don't have a great many threatening weapons systems. Their Exocet is out-ranged by both types of heavy Indian ASMs, and likewise both heavy Indian ASMs can penetrate anything save for the heaviest armor on the French warships. Certainly both the Charioteer and the BrahMos could blow apart the superstructure aboard one of the Frenchers' battleships. Russians, on the other hand, have two particularly capable anti-ship missiles in service, and as the Marakkar broods over how he might counter these the Anunkais wait for an opportunity to try and sink the Kirov, Slava, and Kuznetzov Classes which carry those frightening missile variants.

All in all the Unioners at least go confidently into battle, the Igovians even more so, even if the Marakkar is under orders not to continue battle if the weight of the opposition proves too much for the joint fleet. Reinforcements are, after all, inbound, and Ali Khan Marakkar would rather leave the French and Russians sufficiently hurting now and come back later to finish the job. Where the Leaguers are looking for another Lepanto, the Unioners are trying for a second Spartivento. The prospect of facing down French guns with his missile tubes empty is not an enticing one, although the 533mm and 517mm torpedoes aboard Indian warships ought to be capable of penetration against the Frenchmens' armor. If the Sindhudurg were about the Frenchers wouldn't have a chance.

Off Nigeria

Where the Anunkais failed to impress the enemy, the six Ortiagons sitting off Nigeria promise to make much more of their encounter with the Russian vassal. CS Onslaught, Olongwe, Otter, O Gylch Y Pegwn Deheuol, Orwell, Otter, and Outrage wait in the Gulf of Guinea, quite silent even when running at speed, for the departure of Nigeria's main surface warfare vessels. The priority target is the single Kirov class battlecruiser, although Nigerian Udaloys amount to something of a threat as well with the Metel A/S missiles. Soviet crews, superbly trained, excellently led, and supremely confident, stand to do much damage to the enemy, whose forces are not vastly more numerous than the submarines in the Gulf. Should the assault on the Nigerian navy go smoothly, the submarines from there stand to interdict the seaborne resupply of French forces in Cote D'Ivoire and Benin.

The Divine Russian Navy

The Tsarist Fleet commander was almost giddy, as if that could be seen by his deeply scowling countenance. He did not have the enthusiasm his French counterpart had, and was badly in need of a victory here, as his wife and daughter both lived in St. Petersburg, where they had been “invited” to stay at the Winter Palace until he returned. He glanced at a picture of his wife and child that he kept with him, and then went to work with his orders. The first was a secret, encoded message sent to multiple satellite systems at once, in order to confuse any who were trying to trace them. But their targets got them. In three disparate locations, three Typhoon Class Submarines flew into action.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Typhoon_class Typhoon

They began the process of firing their Bulava missiles at the combined Prog fleet. Soon, the missiles would be detected re-entering the atmosphere and streaking towards their targets, with their ultra-sophisticated guidance systems driving them home. Now, the Typhoon was capable of carrying up to 20 of these missiles each, with each missile having a range in excess of 8,000 kilometres and each having 6 MIRVs. Of course, though it would have been wonderful to fire their nuclear payload at the fleet in a standard Cold War use of nuclear tactics much inline with the use of tactical nukes by the Soviets against the French, they chose instead to fire their convention warhead, high yield, Heavy Explosive Missiles, 10 from each. Of course, these missiles would break into six attack vectors each, making them essentially six missiles with a single long range rocket delivery platform, and each warhead being a massive 1150 kgs. They had specific targets in mind, and those that fired them knew those targets would do anything they could to stop them before their devastating impact was felt, but they were each designed to withstand a nuclear blast at minimum distance of 500 meters, which meant that though a couple could maybe be brought down, it would tax the efforts of even the best AA and Anti-Missile technologies, and with a yield this high, a miss would be almost as effective as a hit. With effectively 60 missiles from each Typhoon coming in, for a total of 180 warheads driving towards the Progs, it is well understood why Bulava means “Mace” in Russia. This would have an impact felt, that was sure. Of course, with the outset of hostilities, it was made clear to the opposing fleet that a nuclear option would only be explored in case of defence, but the Typhoons waited with their other missiles, the real dangerous ones, just in case.

Each group of 60 was being fired at one of the 3 Nibiru Class Escort Carriers/LPHs that steamed with the Prog Fleet.

Video of a Typhoon launching missiles:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=YOz1dh9dFk4&mode=related&search=

Of course, the Typhoons were not the only active submarines, with the 8 Kilo Class Subs, though more used to shallower waters, on active ASW patrols, for the incoming Indian submarine forces. They were also much further ahead than most of the rest of the fleet, taking advantage of the fact that they are among the world’s quietest subs even today. They would be the main line of defence for the fleet’s ASW capabilities.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kilo_class

Then there was the 7 Victor III Subs, who were able to speed out much faster than most subs and were towing their passive sonar arrays in order to ferret out incoming submarines. They were quite happy to charge forward without need for stealth, because they had been slowly sneaking up on the Prog fleet for days and now were coming within firing depth to open up with their SS-N-16s. Because of these missiles high accuracy, they were short on range, and the subs had come within 100 kilometres in order to accurately fire. These could have also been fitted with nuclear weapons but were armed entirely with conventional HE cruise missiles of the anti-ship variant. So they fired their large payloads, taking incredible risks to do so, firing 12 of 24 possible cruise missiles, with the remaining 12 reserved for torpedoes. The Type 65 torpedoes were also put to sea, leaving them nigh defenceless, but giving the surface ships something to worry about. Of these 7, one of the submarines unfortunately experienced a technical problem and only launched the cruise missiles before an explosion tore through their torpedo tubes and they did an emergency surfacing with fire raging in the ship. The rest left it to its fate, as they dived and sped back to the protection of their fleet as soon as they could.
That put 84 cruise missiles into the air, each of them aimed at Invincible Class Escort Carrier and 72 torpedoes in the water, each also aimed at the Invincible Class Escort Carrier.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_class_submarine

The 7 Alfa Class Submarines were being held back for now, being as they were sea-going dogfighters without equal, even with the advent of the much newer Quinntonian Seawolf Class, designed to counter them, and their amazing 1300 m crush depth and burst speed of 44.7 knots, they were waiting for the better sonar on some of the other forward subs to tell them where a submarine contact was made, when they would rush in to destroy the interloper.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfa_class_submarine

This also held true for the 2 Sierra Class subs that were on the prowl to give some thump to any submarines that dared to come too close to the Royalist Fleet. They were also being thought about as a vessel that might be sent to relieve the soon-to-be-embattled Victor IIIs, but it was widely held that with the problems that they were encountering, it might not be worth it, from a tactical point of view.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sierra_class_submarine

The 3 Akula-Improved Class Submarines and the 1 Akula II Class Submarine of the Tsarist Force were doing major duty. They had spent their time sneaking around the Prog Fleet, as they were some of the quietest Russian subs in existence, comparable to later Los Angeles Class Subs, and gotten between the incoming Nigerian Fleet and the Progs. There, they waited for their encoded signals to come in, and came up to firing depth, where they started pouring it on from the southern side, making the Progs not be able to concentrate their fire protection in any one direction, though admittedly, they Typhoons were also doing well at that. The Akula II deployed their MG-74 Korund noise simulation decoys while within 100kms of the fleet, forcing the fleet’s ASW net to leap into action, while many kilometres distant, the 3 Akula-Improved Class Subs fired their considerable destructive load after the ASW net was committed. These ones had snuck within 40 kms of the fleet, and were able to loose their loads at that range. They each fired their SS-N-15 Starfish missiles, each putting 10 in the air, and then followed that up with firing 20 Type 65 Torpedoes each. These armaments were evenly targeted at the oilers and supply ships that held the ammunition, fuel and even food for the Prog Fleet, and they would be facing a combined total of 30 SS-N-15 Starfish cruise missiles and 60 Type 65 anti-ship variant torpedoes at very close range, and it was hoped that this would make them feel the pinch a little, remembering how far from home and major re-supply they were.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akula_class_submarine

Then there were the 25 Yankee Class Submarines that were patrolling still a ways south of the Azores, they got the order to fire at the same time as the Typhoons, and had much the same role. They were to bombard the surface combatants of this battle with everything they had, then charge back home as quickly as they could. The massive numbers of Yankees meant that their strength was in overwhelming the enemy forces, and they planned on doing just that. They each were capable of firing 40 Kh-55 cruise missiles, with TERCOM (Terrain Contour Matching) navigation, with periodic position updates by comparing terrain images taken by onboard Doppler radar against maps stored in the onboard computer, and a range of 2,500 km to 3,000 km. As they launched wave after wave of the HE conventional missiles, the world shuddered to think that this capability was possessed of the Russian Soviets and when launched then, would have had nuclear warheads. This meant that 1000 of the missiles took to the air, to be evenly distributed among the whole of the Prog Fleet, in an attempt to overwhelm their anti-missile capabilities.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yankee_class

The 2 Oscar I and 5 Oscar II Class submarines were, unfortunately for the Tsarists, a disaster. The battle record read like a comedy sketch, with 3 Oscar II Submarines that had somehow managed to get within 30 kms. of the Prog Fleet suddenly surfacing completely, without going to battle stations. It seemed that each had been operating in conjunction with each other, and the lead ship had a cascading electrical failure, which meant that it had to make an emergency surfacing, but the two boats that were with it, in their panic, managed to run into each other, not only causing them to surface moments later, but also completely rendering their launch systems inoperable.

The other 2 members of their class fared little better, as they both got faulty launch coordinates due to the same kinds of failures that afflicted their lead boat but they had managed somehow to control, and they went to launch depth and dutifully fired their payload into open water…to the north.

The 2 Oscar Is were circling the Prog Fleet to help with the southern directional bombardment when one captain interpreted the incoming Typhoon missiles to be Soviet nuclear strikes and gave the order to dive and went below his crush depth, losing all hands, while the other one successfully fired half its payload of P-700 Granits, all 10 of them before the launch platform malfunctioned and they were forced to dive and retreat. The Granits were all aimed for the Chainmail Class Cruiser, however, and the missiles should be all right, though the remaining Oscars will now most likely never see service again. The P-700s did have a 600km range and carried 750 kg HE warheads, and had the Oscars been able to do anything but a comedy of errors, these launches would have been devastating.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oscar_class

Total Submarine incoming-
60 Bulava Missiles, effectively 180 massive ICBM warheads
SS-N-16s-84
132 Type 65 Torpedoes
30 SS-N-15 Starfish cruise missiles
1000 Kh-55s
10 P-700 Granits

OOC-Of course, you must see above for their respective targets, and there is some major concentrations going on, from both the French and the Tsarists. Now, I still have to post for the incoming Nigerian Fleet and the surface vessels of the Russian Fleet, so please don’t respond yet, I just thought that I would get this stuff out of the way and up first. Remember, the French and Tsarist surface and submarine attacks are all coming in at the same time. I had one person ask how we could attain that level of interoperability, and I might just answer that question here, the language of the Russian Court is French, has been since Catherine the Great, so all the nobles and officers are fluent. And, we have been working towards this day for a long, long time.

Tsar Wingert the Great.

OOC-I am just going to post once about the fact that submarine warfare is definately out of my comfort zone, and I am just doing the best that I can with what I have been able to glean, as all of the research that I have been doing doesn't amount to much of anything if you look primarily at the time I have spent on the subs. I have done some, and am going to try and continue to source other people's stuff while I go with repect to the submarines and their missiles, but please be patient. I am planning on doing the rest of the fleet later.

BTW, I was operating under the assumption that we were steaming toards eachother, that might be the source of the confusion.

Also, I was assuming, since no one complained, that the Nigerian Fleet had moved int position to be a part of the main thrust. I am wondering if we can come to something of a comprimise in regards to that front. Either, could we have you attack me farther out to sea, or could we have that side battle take place prior to the main engagement. I am personally partial to it being part of the main battle, and handled farther out to sea, and to sweeten the pot for you, the rest of the Nigerian Navy would most likely be able to respond very quickly if you were to attack that close to home, not to mention the Nigerian Air Force. But I am easy either way, whichever you want to do is fine by me.


ICVice Admiral Andrew Highfield was also ordered to move his fleet into position, most likely joining his Roycelandian counterparts, near Bermuda. It was broadcast widely that should the battle spill to close to Roycelandia or the USQ, it will be treated as an invasion, and responded to accordingly.

Second Fleet: Atlantic Ocean from the North to the South Poles
Commander: Rev. Vice Admiral Andrew Highfield
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)
1 Iowa Class Battleship-recommissoned

WWJD
Amen.


WWJD
Amen.

((Please do not consider the following rude. I have poured the lions share of my economy into the navy LRR, and I completely resent your negating my post. You have no right to speak for my naval ability as well. Those are Exocet II's, and have just as much range as anything you have got. Item two, the Holy League fleet departed the Canaries a while ago IC, they are not still hovering about the Canaries. You opened the firing, and now are saying that you cannot recieve anything in return? I think we have a problem here. I understood perfectly well as well that we were steaming towards each other. Unless you are saying that you fleet is around south of the equator, in which case you couldnt launch anything at all, then they are in range. Look, I am not a technical acronym fellow like yourself, I only know how to do a rp per se, and considering my consistent story arc so far in regards to the French Navy and its recent past successes you will have to do a bit better than saying 'not on my watch'. Note bene, the French Nanates class subs are operating with the Russians. Thanks, ciao.))

((Please do not consider the following rude. I have poured the lions share of my economy into the navy LRR, and I completely resent your negating my post. You have no right to speak for my naval ability as well. Those are Exocet II's, and have just as much range as anything you have got. Item two, the Holy League fleet departed the Canaries a while ago IC, they are not still hovering about the Canaries. You opened the firing, and now are saying that you cannot recieve anything in return? I think we have a problem here. I understood perfectly well as well that we were steaming towards each other. Unless you are saying that you fleet is around south of the equator, in which case you couldnt launch anything at all, then they are in range. Look, I am not a technical acronym fellow like yourself, I only know how to do a rp per se, and considering my consistent story arc so far in regards to the French Navy and its recent past successes you will have to do a bit better than saying 'not on my watch'. Note bene, the French Nanates class subs are operating with the Russians. Thanks, ciao.))


OOC-I don’t think that was the intention. I think that he even addressed in his post what happened, to an extent. He mentioned that the fleets would be within firing range of each other at dusk, which would fit well with your visuals of the firing happening against the sunset.

So, just so we have an objective timeline with which to use, how about this:

Step 1- The Indian subs launched their attack early in the day, as a pre-emptive strike, with the Russians and French responding en masse from their subs, for the most part in forward positions as well.

Step 2- The response to the sub attacks, which is already contained in the first part of the French post, and should be posted by the Indians.

Step 3- The Fleets meet, which is handled by the French already in their post, but should be followed up with a Tsarist post detailing his surface fleet. After the Tsarist post, which would happen in conjunction with the French, the Indians would respond with their fleet.

The only question this leaves would be where the Nigerian fleet fits in.

Would that work for you? NG, LRR?

Tsar Wingert the Great.

(OCC:Everything I have read, and I get this from your own factbook NG, shows your warships equipped either Exocet MM40s or Exocet MM38s, or simply Exocets. Nothing I ever saw indicated that any of these missiles were more advanced than the Exocet MM40, in RL the most capable of the Exocet variants. This missile is subsonic, with a maximum range of 180 kilometers. I have always stated, I think, that the Union's BrahMos is one of the world's most advanced anti-ship weapons, and its range and capabilities have equally regularly received mention. Indeed, the missile was developed specifically to counter European naval expansion in a non-linear fashion; namely, while France spent money on the construction of large battleships and light cruisers, the INU suspended all large warship construction and poured a large chunk of its substantial naval budget into the development of an explicitly world-beating ASM. That is why the IN depends for the most part on Walmingtonian hand-me-downs and has constructed all of seven major surface combatants domestically in the past decade. BrahMos, as I am sure I have said many times in the past, is a heavy ASM delivering, in is shipboard configuration, a 200-kilogram armor-piercing warhead to ranges approaching 290 kilometers, though for warships the best range is likely closer to 200 kilometers. Throughout the missile's flight profile it remains supersonic, and approaching the target it accelerates to 2.8 times the speed of sound in order to ensure clean penetration through at least the deck armor of any warship presently afloat. I am not making this up either. My BrahMos is exactly identical to the RL BrahMos in every category except for the variety of launch platforms.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BrahMos

The Soviet Charioteer is little different, if anything less capable.

Compare to Exocet MM38, SM39, MM40:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exocet

Compare to Harpoon:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harpoon_missile

To have you come along now and say that the Exocet II, no evidence of which I have ever seen, essentially negates the small advantage that the Indians have in terms of missiles, is frustrating in the extreme. My strategy in this battle depended in no small part on the Indians having at least a small window where their warships would be the only ones in ASM range of the enemy. If I had some way of knowing beforehand that I would not have this advantage I would have gone about it differently. You can't expect me to deliver up my few surface warships like lambs for the slaughter for the sake of your crushing victory. If we are going to use missiles, don't penalize me for knowing about them, and don't penalize me for forsaking warship development in order to have an excellent one.

Either way this point remains moot for the time being, since the ranges at which the nuclear submarines fired their cruise missiles were just under 1,000 kilometers, and no ASM is going to take out a submarine below the water. I didn't fire the Mangonels, Tomahawk-equivalents which OCCly are very likely based on the Tomahawk itself, at French warships under steam; I fired them at the enemy fleet which I believed to be in port, and I was in error. That they are all downed does not seem unrealistic, since the enemy fleet would be in a position to intercept missiles that aren't even tracking them, but rather the empty quayside where they used to be. Not even the BrahMos could engage enemy warships at that kind of range, and the first party that will be able to launch their ASMs will be the Russians, unless our Anunkais can put a few of the Russian cruisers under.

I am certain that the Indians will not come out the victor in this battle, but equally I am certain that Russia and France will not be able to crush the Indians in the same way as NG might intend. I do not plan to play my forces to his advantage, and I beg him not to make my maneuvers for me.

Before tomorrow I'll try to get a full list of my warships and their capabilities up on the invision boards, so nothing is left to the imagination.

NG is a great RPer and a superb writer, but in this kind of warfare there really isn't any way around necessary knowledge of the capability of one's systems.

I have other OCC issues that need to be resolved:

As far as I can tell, the Bulava is a ballistic missile designed to hit static targets with nuclear warheads. It does have six MIRVs, but what I've read (from wikipedia) indicates a CEP of half a kilometer, so if there were a way for the missile to track Indian warships in the first place, it would seem to run the risk of out and out missing the target fairly often. When Indian satellites detect the launch of the Bulava missiles, Ali Khan Marakkar will immediately kick his fleet to flank speed, so the vessels that were targeted at launch won't be there anymore when the missiles hit the ground.

The same issue is with the Kh-55. Terrain-following radar systems don't work over the ocean because there isn't any terrain for them to follow. No matter how many missiles are launched, they're all apt to crash pretty soon after, since they'll take waves to be hills and dive into them. Mac tried to launch Storm Shadows or something against the Walmingtonians and we had the same problem.

So for now I'll only respond to attacks made with weapons that seem able to track and hit their targets.

As for Quinn's proposal, yeah, that's fine by me. I had always assumed that the Nigerians were still relatively close to home waters, but whatever you decide is fine. I doubt the Soviet Ortiagons would have been at a significant disadvantage either way, but I'll hold off discussing the capabilities of that class of warship until we've at least established the difference between the various ASMs being used.)

IC:

The Indo-Strathdonian 1st Fleet

Klaxons rage across the warships that make up Ali Khan Marakkar's battlegroup as Russian submarines make themselves very much known.

INS Amravati, a Broadsword Class frigate posted to the southeastern edge of the outer A/S screen, swings into action the moment sonar operators detect the distinctive sounds made by a nuclear submarine. Aluka Class submarines may be quiet, but they won't have it all their way as the crews of Amravati and Srivardhan, another Broadsword, put their training to use. At once the frigates accelerate to flank speed while Lynx antisubmarine helicopters deploy their MAD drogues and dipping sonars. It is easy to detect the noisemaker, and a Lynx crew is able to identify it as such. Another one of the highly useful helicopters identifies a different target with its dipping sonar, the Aluka II that deployed the noisemaker, and sonar buoys are dropped to track its progress. That particular Lynx races back towards Amravati to take on fuel while a second helicopter, armed with two 324mm lightweight torpedoes, takes up the chase. Working on the information shared with the other three helicopters, they drop more sonar buoys in an effort to get a fix on the enemy submarine's position, they being a great deal faster than the Aluka and they having the benefit of combat experience that the enemy submariners almost certainly do without. Four Type 17 lightweight torpedoes, not surprisingly copies of the Walmingtonian Stingray made possible by the close cooperation that existed between Parliament and the government of John Bull, are dropped within five kilometers of the supposed submarine contact, the helicopter pilots ignoring the noisemaker for the far fainter, but moving, target. Immediately the small weapons accelerate to 45 knots and begin to chase the running Aluka. Type 17s are known for relatively quiet operation, but it is impossible to mask their deployment, and doubtless the Russian submariners will begin to take evasive action, which the Type 17 will, with a bit of luck, be able to counter with high speed, agility, and deep-diving ability.

However, the A/S group's attention is quickly called towards a series of far more threatening sonar contacts. The two Broadswords accelerate to flank speed as Lynxes rush to arrive over the contacts in advance, by now in the company of half a dozen other A/S helicopters flying from the various surface warfare vessels in the fleet.

Likewise many of the Victors are interdicted at the outer A/S screen, by Cheetah and Nallapambu, a pair of Soviet Gauntlet-class fleet defense frigates superbly fitted out with modern equipment and expert crews. With their on-board sonars, their towed arrays, and their on-board Helix helicopters, the Gauntlets are aware of submarines in their vicinity and take no time at all to identify the fast-running Victors. At flank speed, 29 knots, they move to engage the enemy before he arrives within missile range, helicopters flying well ahead of the frigates. Signals from the Soviet frigates attract the IN's other two Broadswords, Ambajogai and Parbhani, themselves also tracking incoming Victors. Lynxes are once again launched, armed with Type 17 torpedoes, while 533mm Type 24 heavy torpedoes are readied in their tubes and pointed outward on the frigates' decks.

Approaching within 100 kilometers of the Indian fleet brings with it many dangers, as the Victors soon find out as no fewer than four frigates, plus Lynxes and long-range Sea Kings flying off the oilers and Ibrahim Haidari, come barreling down on them. Type 17 torpedoes splash down into the Atlantic and zip off after the Russians at the same time as Igovian Helices deploy their own 305mm Type 3-Bs. As they close with the Victors the Broadswords shoot off their Type 24s as well at 50 kilometers distance from the closing Victors, 12 torpedoes in all, traveling at 40 knots for now and capable of accelerating to 55 knots after acquiring a target. It is, for Captain Rawat aboard the Parbhani, a satisfying sight to see his expert crew operating more or less smoothly in a combat environment. Less pleasing is the news communicated by one of the frigate's sonar operators.

"New contacts! Range 30, speed 35 and closing! 36 Probable Type 65!"
"Left full rudder, turn 180! Stand by damage control parties!"

The Parbhani, accompanied by Ambajogai, turns sharply to the southeast, maintaining a 30-knot speed, while the enemy torpedoes approach at a high rate of speed. It is an impressive thing indeed to watch two 5,000-ton frigates maneuver at speed, and Captain Rawat has every intention of out-maneuvering the Type 65s, designed after all to take-out far less agile targets.

"Launch decoys! Reload torpedo tubes!"
"Type 65 inbound, same heading!"
"Damn, they must be tracking something in the main battlegroup. Helm, bring us about. North by northeast!"
"New radar contacts! Range 42, speed 1,000! Probable 76 Stallion!"
"Flank speed! Prepare Akash battery!"

Indian Broadswords struggle to intercept the incoming torpedoes and missiles while the Gauntlets press home the attack, but most of the Stallions are past Union frigates before they can engage them. The torpedoes are a different story, and noisemakers are shot into the water or dropped from helicopters in an effort to divert the Russian weapons. A great many are, though at great cost. Ambajogai finds itself being tracked by a group of enemy Type 65s, with its noisemakers being reloaded. The fast-moving heavy torpedoes catch up to the frigate and blow off her bows. Ambajogai fills with water from the gaping hole ripped by the torpedo impacts as further weapons strike the ship, crawling along at five knots. Within moments she explodes, her magazines having been compromised, and the only survivors are a handful of aircraftmen on the helipad who were blown clear of the wreck. Parbhani swings by and, with its whaleboat, plucks these burned and wounded men out of the water.

The Stallions, and remaining Type 65s, rocket towards the core of the battlegroup still, but approach Lovitar and Akash-1 range. These highly-agile medium/short range SAMs begin to leap out of their VLS cells as enemy ordnance closes, either Stallions or Starfishes, downing a great many. Nine Gauntlet Class frigates and seven Type 42 destroyers can throw out an impressive amount of fire, and even the Granit missiles are not impervious, their numbers being thinned far from the fleet by CS-400 missiles off the Gauntlets. Torpedo decoys are fired from the inner screen warships, while Ood uses her Seahammer anti-torpedo armament to physically destroy incoming Type 65s fired by the penetrating Alukas. Probably many submarines will not survive to launch many volleys of torpedoes or missiles, but the Indians can't block everything.

Ali Khan Marakkar, as usual, is at the forefront of the action. Zhob lights up Stallions and Starfish with its advanced targeting radar, sending Akash-2 missiles their way.

Although Russia's submarine attack will in all likelihood result in the loss of most or all of the attacking boats, as A/S assets converge on the salvo-firing enemy warships, the Tsarists will not go down without taking some of the Indians with them. True, most of the incoming rockets are downed, and a great many of the torpedoes likewise decoyed, but losses there are. Ibrahim Haidari's commander watches as his 40mm CIWS guns fail to destroy two incoming Stallions, which subsequently impact and destroy the superstructure. Sea Harriers are tossed into the ocean in tiny parts, and readied ammunition explodes on deck while damage control parties scramble to contain the fires.

Lieutenant George Lombok becomes commander of the carrier upon the captain's death in the CIC, and proceeds to conn the stricken Ibrahim Haidari from the machine spaces. He orders a full stop so the flames burning on the flight deck and in what remains of the superstructure aren't fanned, and Zhob comes alongside to render assistance. Further decoys are shot off the destroyer as its Lynx drops its own decoys and as Sea Kings begin to jam heavily in an effort to decoy the incoming missiles. Four Type 65s are able to penetrate the defense net, though, currently dealing with several different threats coming from different directions, and burst in Ibrahim Haidari's side. Underwater explosions lose Zhob her rudder and cause worrying denting in her hull, but the Marakkar's destroyer remains dutifully at the carrier's side even as the ship starts to list heavily. Burned and otherwise wounded aircraftmen and the few pilots lucky enough to survive are picked out of the ocean while damage control crews pump foam onto the fires above them.

Lombok, down in the bowels of his new and quite unexpected command, wades his way through the flooding machine spaces as his crewmen rush to close bulkheads. It is soon apparent that the damage is irreparable, that the hull is compromised and that his ship is flooding across bulkheads.

"Ensign, give the order to abandon ship. There's nothing more we can do. All of you, get out!"

He shoves engineers through a bulkhead before ducking through himself. Throughout the warship men rush to the sides, and hurl themselves into the waiting Atlantic, trying their best to swim under the burning oil slick that covers much of the water's surface. Lifeboats are lowered and these, along with the Zhob's whaleboats and launches from at least half a dozen other surface combatants, rush to rescue the two hundred or so Union sailors lucky enough to survive the carrier's utter destruction.

She begins to capsize and Zhob rushes to get clear. The carrier falls on its side, jets of steam shooting off the water's surface as fires are finally doused, and sinks quickly, taking 876 sailors and pilots to a watery grave. Ibrahim Haidari is not the only Union warship lost. Subroto, one of the Jyoti Class fleet oilers, is struck amidships by three Starfishes that managed to penetrate the battlegroup's defenses. There is little that a damage control party could do against this kind of damage, indeed, if they even had the chance. In spectacular fashion the oiler explodes, her two now disparate halves left to sink at their own pace. More sailors survive the wreck, though, and are saved by helicopters from INS Galle, busy defending Subroto's sister ship not far away with Akash-1 SAMs and 40mm CIWS.

Moro is split in two by a Type 65, after successfully protecting India from perhaps a dozen Stallions in conjunction with a number of other Type 42s and Gauntlets. They cannot, after all, get everything, and now and again a missile is apt to slip through. Her captain, a brave IN veteran with experience aboard cruisers during the daring Victoria & Salvador Raid, opts to go down with his ship and sees to it that the 69-some survivors are put in lifeboats before hoisting aloft the white ensign and disappearing below the waves on the prow of the forward section.

Finally, Ahmadpur East is damaged by a near-exploding Granit, whose destroyed mass sends shards of flying titanium into the unarmored steel superstructure. Her helipad is put out of action and seven aircraftmen are killed by shrapnel.

Surfaced Oscars are in the meantime set-upon by Sea Kings from the stores ship Sutlej and brandishing Dhruvs off one of the Soviet supply vessels. Sea Eagles and Vanguards are hurled at the extremely exposed enemy submarines, largely defenseless on the surface and in daylight, and ill equipped to deal with stand-off missiles. For sure the three boats unlucky enough to have surfaced will all be sent to the bottom fairly quickly.

Russian ballistic missiles begin to land amongst the fleet, and, although Gauntlets are strongly advised not to engage them, they don't do much damage at all. The Marakkar's fleet does not travel in a tightly-packed cluster, so most of the rockets detonate at harmless distances, those that hit near the fleet to begin with, they being after all meant to attack static targets and not a force of warships at sea, moving at combat speeds. Still, the frigate Vijay is hit by shrapnel, and seventeen Union sailors are killed. The Soviet Gauntlet-class frigate Greyhound also takes structural damage and sees one of its 30mm/Sumpit CIWS mounts put out of action by missile fragments as well.

Ali Khan Marakkar considers his losses and paces the Zhob's CIC angrily. He should not have fared so poorly in the opening barrage while the enemy got off without a scratch, he thinks, and he fumes over his failure to anticipate the scale of the Russian submarine offensive. They will likely all be sunk, but Russian blood is poor compensation for the loss of so many from his own command. More ships should have been allotted to the A/S screen, he knows. Ships like the IN's modernized Leanders could have seen the quietest Russian submarines from 160 kilometers or so, but, stupidly, they had been sent off to Indonesia before the war and were only recently recalled to home waters. But there is no time to brood over the results so far. AEW Sea Kings and Helices, operating about 150 kilometers out from the main body of the fleet, and searching with their radars perhaps out to three or four times that distance, are quick to detect several anomalous radar signals approaching from the north. Crews are indeed puzzled by them, but nonetheless they designate them as enemy anti-ship missiles, numbers unknown, moving (thankfully) at just under the speed of sound. Moments later the AEW force is shocked to find several thousand contacts moving towards the 1st Fleet, which can't be anything besides anti-ship missiles. Frantic warnings are sent to the fleet, still fighting-off missiles and torpedoes, to be ready for another massive Russian strike.

Even before the AEW helicopters spot the Kh-55s with their own radars, Puffin V/STOL fighters begin to launch from CS India, the Drapoel-built fleet carrier, armed with DRAB and L'Angelot Maudit missiles, plus integral 30mm cannon. India scrambles its 36 Puffins, and the three Nibirus, Krondstadt, Concorde, and Belinus, launch their twelve each shortly later, crews having rushed to remove Vanguard missiles from wing pylons. The entirety of the Indian fleet's surviving fighter component, some 72 aircraft, is vectored onto the cloud of missiles, the Marakkar determined to down as many of them as possible as far out as possible. Doubtless Soviet Gauntlets could take a great many out with their SCS-400 missiles, but the fleet only has just over a hundred of those missiles ready to fire, and every one of them will be needed to fight-off P-700s fired by Russian Kirovs and Kuznetzovs, and P-500s from the Slavas and Kievs. Puffins are given the task, and they take it up with vigor.

Fortunately for the Indians, the Puffins have a significant speed advantage over the Kh-55s. The fighters make firing first passes, often ripping into the Kh-55s with 30mm cannon fire, before swinging around to engage them from the rear, with DRAB short-range missiles and more 30mm cannon fire. Though they are far smaller than fighter aircraft, the slow-moving Granats make easy targets for the Puffins, and pilots settle in behind formations of the missiles, downing one after the other without all to much trouble. But as easy as it is to down the missiles, there are, quite literally, a thousand of them. Hundreds upon hundreds are exploded and sent in fragments into the sea, and others are decoyed far afield by specially-configured helicopters, but a significant chunk of the missiles keeps coming. At fifty kilometers off the A/S screen, the Puffins peel off. The last thing the Marakkar needs is to lose some of his invaluable fighters to friendly fire, and either way they don't have the most impressive endurance. Cheetah and Nallapambu both loose dozens of Loviatar-S missiles at the incoming Kh-55s, doubtless sending very nearly one cruise missile into the ocean for each SAM expended. Still hundreds race for the Indian battlegroup.

Closer in, Union Type 42s empty on the Kh-55s. Akash-2 missiles launch from their VLS cells to engage the Russian rockets at ninety kilometers' range, all except Ahmadpur East, robbed of her long-range radar by a close-call Starfish. At twenty-five kilometers Loviatar-S systems in the main battlegroup swing into action, and send hundreds more SAMs against the enemy missiles, whose numbers are thinned even further. But still some continue on their suicidal course, and Indian captains curse as they look at their radar scopes and still see incoming hostile contacts. Finally CIWS systems come on-line, picking remaining Granats out of the sky while decoys are fired. In an effort to attract Russian Kh-55s, Ood turns on her powerful jamming systems, perhaps luring home-on-jam configured missiles into the jaws of a singularly powerful multi-layered self-defense battery. One of the Raduga rockets even strikes the Soviet cruiser, but at no great speed, slower even than an Exocet. The missile is deflected upwards off her bows, exploding in the air to shower splinters onto the cruiser's decks. Three Soviet sailors are maimed and a 6-inch rifle is holed, but no other serious damage results.

Again, though, Union Type 42s prove particularly unlucky. In the midst of battle Chagai experiences a malfunction with one of her 40mm CIWS guns, which promptly overheats and shuts down. A Kh-55, which would, moments earlier, have had no chance, impacts her amidships, burying itself within the hull only to detonate 900 kilograms of high-explosive moments later. The destroyer is done for, split in two fragments which sink quickly, the bow and stern sections making a V before they slip below the waves. Sixty of the ship's complement survive to be rescued by nearby vessels. The frigate Ratel, a Soviet Gauntlet, is hit by shrapnel, which penetrates the forward VLS tubes. Very nearly she is lost, but the captain is quick to jettison his SCS-400 missiles, saving the ship from a catastrophic explosion. Ratel's radar is also damaged beyond repair, and, with Loviatars spent, the Marakkar gives the crew permission to exit the battle. CS Josip Broz, a Soviet Bodkin-class frigate, is targeted by several Kh-55s and manages to defeat most of them. But one missile impacts her bow and blows the forward section of the ship clean off, leaving only a tangled mass of steel ahead of the forward bulkhead, a bulkhead which, extremely fortunately, remains intact. No order to abandon ship is given, and damage control crews somehow manage to limit flooding. Though lacking a forward section, Josip Broz remains afloat, her engines still serviceable and oil still in the tanks. Though limited to ten knots maximum, the Soviet frigate turns about and exits formation, making for Pointe Noire with Ratel in company.

Similar damage is suffered by Sadiqabad, who has her stern ripped off by a Kh-55 exploding very near by. The helicopter pad is destroyed and ten Union sailors killed, while damage control teams struggle to contain oil fires and dump armaments and fuel overboard. Should the fire spread to the machine spaces, the destroyer is as good as lost, and will have to be taken under tow for the trip back to friendly ports in the Congo.

OCC: Losses so far:

1,654 sailors

Ibrahim Haidari sunk, Ambajogai sunk, Moro sunk, Chagai sunk, Subroto sunk, Parbhani damaged, Zhob damaged, Vijay damaged, Ahmadpur East damaged, Greyhound damaged, Ratel damaged (withdrawn), Josip Broz damaged (withdrawn), Sadiqabad damaged, 12 Sea Harriers lost

IC:

Soviet Ortiagon Detachment

Operating under strict radio silence, the Igovian SSKs that presently approach the Nigerian second fleet have no idea of the blow dealt to the Marakkar's force, but are no less inclined to humble the Russian vassals headed towards the back of the Indian war fleet. Crawling along below the waves in extreme silence, quieter even than the diesel-electric Kilos, the Ortiagons, all six of them, prepare to make their first strike. Unlike the Anunkais operating far north of them, the Ortiagons don't have Charioteer anti-ship missiles to hurl at the enemy. Instead they will depend on the tried and true 517mm Type 1-B Mk.3 torpedo, with a maximum speed approaching fifty knots at 27 kilometers, and the 670mm Type 4A heavy torpedo, good for fifty knots too but at fifty kilometers. The Igovians only move very slowly, letting the enemy warships come to them rather than the other way around. Priority targets are the Kirov class missile cruiser, for which all six Type 4As are intended, and the single Udaloy. Sovremennys, solidly anti-surface warships, and aged Grisha class corvettes are designated secondary concerns, to be dealt with after the far more threatening Kilos.

Of course, before moving in with torpedoes, three Ortiagons, CS Outrage, Orwell, and Otter, go after whatever warships might be in the outer A/S screen. Each submarine fires off six Vanguard ASMs, also known as the Qian Wei in Drapoel service, and largely similar to the Harpoon, aimed at whatever Grishas might be in the outer screen, or perhaps the Udaloy, whichever targets present themselves. Though it will alert the enemy to their presence, the launches ought to be sufficiently distant to allow the submarines to reposition themselves safely, and the number of missiles in the air might further mislead the Nigerians with regards to the numbers arrayed against them. So while Outrage, Orwell, and Otter discharge Vanguard missiles, O Gylch Y Pegwn Deheuol, Olongwe, and Obradin seek torpedo range.

Off Durban, South Africa

After a lightning voyage from India to Zanzibar, and then from Zanzibar, down through the Mozambique Channel, Force R, led by the cruiser Sindhudurg finally converges with Force G, recently redirected from Mauritius, and the Soviet battlegroup sent down from off Madagascar.

Included in this force is, most importantly, the recently-completed fleet carrier CS Union, equipped with navalized Springer strike aircraft in addition to a complement of Puffins. Altogether it numbers some three Union Bodkins, five Igovian Gauntlets, Sindhudurg, the second Soviet Chainmail-class cruiser, four Anunkais, six Ortiagons, a Nibiru, three Union corvettes, a seagoing minesweeper, and a sizable fleet train. Not necessarily a threatening fleet in its own right, but enough, most assume, to fill the holes left by the combat in West Africa. Of course, nobody is quite sure whether to reinforce the second component of the 1st Fleet before sending it to the other side of Africa. Striking across the Indian Ocean from Tanimbar is the Indian fleet initially sent to assist the Strainists in taking Indonesia, with another carrier, four Type 42s, four Type 22s, eight Leanders, a Type 81, INS Blake, and another substantial fleet train. Perhaps some Spyrians could be convinced to tag along too. For the time being the commanders elect to wait until the battle off West Africa is decided.

Soviet satellites and -with more success- long-range UAVs attempting to track the progress of fighting off Africa bring home early reports with mixed implications. The news of a hit upon Ibrahim Haidari is received probably most poorly, while the surfacing of Russian submarines and the repeating of Spain's mistakes against the Anglophones give cause for fierce hope.

Many in the Soviets already spend much more of their time tabling motions of support for the efforts and sacrifices of their Union neighbours, and, when it comes, news of such losses as the Moro's Captain will be felt quite profoundly in the Fourth Commonwealth.

The day sees rail depots on the Union/Commonwealth border hard at work as Sovietists transfer the components of two CS-400 Red Sky batteries from their trains to the Union's, and more than a few salutes and fists-to-the-sky are thrown during this and other such operations.

I'll cook something up...I'd like to get some crazy Combiners tossed in the mix, too...maybe something with Ilona in the Western Sahara?

OOC-I will have to ask you all to be patient with me in regards for the sub battle.

I think it is reasonable that the Indians would have a window of fire, however, brief wherein they could fire with impunity at the combined Royalist Fleet.

I also think that it is reasonable to assume that the Exocet attacks occur whenever our fleets get to within range, would that he OK.

As for the Bulavas, OK, I am under the impression that they have guided directional systems for in-flight modifications to flight, so I wouldn’t maybe like them ignored completely, but the point about the CEP is well taken. Could we perhaps have a couple of hits from the massive missiles or have the post edited to include maybe even damaging near hits and so on, they have extremely wide blast radii (something like 120m) with their HE warheads, so even if they miss, I wouldn’t mind a sentence or two about how spectacular the explosions must have been. But, your call. (Maybe one hit? Two? Please? LOL!)

AS for the Kh-55s, I was under the impression that there was a naval variant, and that is why they were fired en masse. Now, I am looking at a note on the wiki site that says that there wasn’t, and that it is a common misconception. I think we have two ways of dealing with this:
1. I can substitute a different missile type, most likely the Granit, which would force me to rewrite my post a little, but the firings would occur in those numbers after all.
2. Or, we can assume the naval type, in which the problems that you had posted about would have obviously been overcome.

I also see by your post that the attack on my Nigerian Fleet will be taking place outside of the rest of the combat, that’s fine. I am looking forward to playing that.

But, NG, please let’s have this be civil. LRR is a brilliant player, and I feel honoured even to test my mettle against him. I am also very happy to see that you are holding the unified command of the fleet.
LRR, please be patient with us, we are doing our best, and I don’t know a lick about sub warfare, and as for missiles, BG may even come up short. So, remember that we are not our commanders, and they would know the difference. If we end up doing something that would be utterly stupid, stop us and say that it doesn’t make sense. We will most likely bow to your superior wisdom in this matter.

So, if you could clear up some of these for me, we can move on.

Thanx guys!

Tsar Wingert the Great.

Oh. BTW, could we get the types along with the names? That is just me being lazy, but otherwise I have to look around and try to find where they are listed together. Hmm. I think a few pages back...

Tsar Wingert the Great.

**OOC**

I feel like I am going down in quicksand fast here.

Thanks everybody for bearing with me. So, apologize for having no time today, work, you know, ug,...but I feel like this battle has already gone far over my head. To whit I do not think I have the technical skill to RP this as it demands.

All I can say is that I thought I presented my navy in a certain light and tried to RP by it. LRR's points are all valid, especially in regards to his window. Frumphh.

I suggest that I turn over the French fleet to Wingert, who can RP this battle in a style that is far better able to deal with the tech figures that LRR requires. I think Gurg and I rped the 12th of June in a more character driven mo than this, which is why he and I were able to make it work so well, because we simply have similar styles. Since Wingert and LRR seem to have similar styles, this would seem to work much better. So, voila, I think that is the solution. Basically, I can just not deliver the schemata of tech, facts, and figures that LRR requires. So does that work for everyone?

More to the point, now that I think of it, I must say I am totally unconfident of any result able to be influenced by myself in this naval battle. I think that rping this battle as such will only lead to a disaster for myself through a bevvy of technicalities. If I could suggest something, since I cannot go as is, Id say turn this over to a OOC AMW panel to OOCly decide the outcome of the battle. Or I could just turn it over to Wingert in toto: in either case, I just have a bad feeling this will not be accurate in the ways it needs to be.

OOC: Post probably in about eighteen hours, then you shall taste Moroccan and Spanish Steel, when our frigates and destroyers, and two minicarriers proves the inferiority of primarily gun combatants once for and all.
Nova Gaul, know this, when the time comes, the ODSE will need to be ready.

(OCC: First of all I'll say that all I know about submarine warfare comes from a few Tom Clancy novels I read a couple years back, plus what I can glean from wikipedia. But volley-firing submarine ordnance, I think, is generally a very bad thing to do. Your submarines (nuclear subs are hardly quiet anyway) will be making noise pretty much constantly and will make themselves incredibly easy to detect and easy for torpedoes to target. At least that is my understanding of the situation.

My thought was that you had chosen to expend your submarines in such a manner so as to overwhelm our fairly advanced defenses, and in as much I'd say you succeeded, having sent one carrier, one supply ship, and two escorts to the bottom with heavy loss of life, and having damaged a further four important warships.

I don't think the Yankee Class can fire P-700s. Certainly it doesn't have big-enough torpedo tubes, and Kh-55 launch silos are, it seems, too small as well. It would require some serious work to convert them. An anti-ship variant of the Kh-55 would, I think be the best bet. Volley-firing them at that kind of range could be undertaken without such serious risk, and a thousand of them would probably ensure a few sinkings, despite their subsonic speed.

As for the Bulavas, I still doubt their ability to hit targets moving at any great speed. In-fight course correction is one thing, tracking a warship moving at flank speed is another thing entirely. If they managed to hit, they would be devastating, but the probability of one actually striking its target seems extremely low. I suppose they could probably land amongst the battlegroup itself, and I'd not be averse to having a few vessels knocked around by blasts, losing radars and taking damage to their superstructures, but a missile actually landing square on a maneuvering target doesn't seem possible.

NG, I don't see any reason for you to drop out of this important battle. Spend a bit of time reading on Wikipedia and I'm sure you'll be more or less equipped to deal with what happens. I'm sorry if I had a mean tone there. Sometimes I get angry and there really isn't any reason to get angry over AMW.)

The Imperial Roycelandian Government has ordered the despatch of a fleet of Dreadnaughts to the seas off Bermuda as part of a "Joint Readiness Exercise" with the Quinntonian Navy, FWIW...

OOC-No problem, OK, so I would personally rather have NG stay in, but if he wants me to take over, I will.

As for the subs, yeah, the point of the all-out sub attack was to overwhelm your fleet defenses, test them a little bit and see how much damage we could do. The Tsarist do understand how dangerous/foolhardy this manoeuvre is, it is just that the Royalists see this battle as extremely important and are willing to lose vast amounts of men and equipment to win it. The French aren’t near as willing to die as we are, and that will be seen shortly.

The Bulavas, I would be happy with low-level damage, having them land in the battle-group and knocking around some of the ships, maybe even having a close call with one of the larger targets or something. But I understand no real damage.

With the Yankees, OK, I will do the Kh-55, an anti-ship version which we will assume to have been developed. Though, that means that now you must adjust for having what, 12-14 anti-ship missiles fired at each and every ship. Yikes!

Mainly my point here was twofold, to throw as much power as possible at the enemy in teh shortest time possible, and to show that the Russian Navy, while a shadow of its former self, is still huge and powerful.

So, does this mean that we now go back and amend our posts? I now need to add the Nantes Class Subs, which apparently are on the level of the Los Angeles, and you need to respond to the much larger-scale attack, am I right?

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Leaves me wondering what sort of missile the anti-ship version would be, how it would operate and how it would be guided. I'd just have used a different kind of submarine. One that's actually designed to do the sort of work that these Yankees are being asked to. I don't know how effective such improvisational work should be against a properly arranged opponent. Oh well, 's not my part of the war.

The battle off the West African coast had just begun, and one could see its decisive potential after only minutes of stand-off skirmishing. Half of these comrades were unaware. Only the rookies -the Air Guard Auxiliaries, many of them young women- knew, for the Expert Corpsmen were sleeping deep in the bellies of a half dozen Marathon transport aircraft.

Here came war-fighting the revolutionary Soviet way, the fashion displayed bravely in Abassamara after hardly ten percent of Adiatorix's Soviet 3rd Corps had even been assembled in theatre.

Operation Teutoburg Forest was underway. A comrade Katerina Ivolgin, once infamous as Sopworth's Secretary of the Navy in the 1st Commonwealth, was leader of the mission as the Final Soviet had voted to approve her proposed plan.

"...now leaving Tanzanian airspace. Welcome to the other Commonwealth."

The last Marathon touched down during the twilight hours as missiles were flying and torpedoes seeking in the west. The passengers were woken to cups of tea, and rushed to action stations. No time to greet the locals, the battle's on.

What a convoy it had been! Auxiliaries flew combat jets from Zanzibar to the deepest Congo and on to the Atlantic shores, their borrowed steeds variously laden with droptanks or suckling at the oily invitation of mother Marathon. Expert Corps pilots -veterans who had run the Chinese out of Nepal and vanquished dozens of French opponents at New Caledonia- rested during the flight, making themselves fresh for battle as soon as they had landed and their aircraft been rearmed.

Over a quick mug of 'special' tea the Soviet pilots were fired-up and given updated briefings on the progress of the battle as it had been reported during their sleep. Now, with extra Marathon and Morrigan AEW assets in the air, and tankers wandering the darkening skies, the Sovietists began to prepare for the serious confrontation.

Kinshasa could expect to do well from its co-operation, even if the Soviets planned to run their technical aid and diplomatic support largely through Union channels to avoid getting too close to a government that most Commonwealthers still distrusted on some level.

Speaking of the Union... a coded message to the joint fleet -reading in an obscure Geletian dialect even when decoded- informs of the fighter force's arrival in Africa and suggests liberal use of fleet air arm assets given the proximity of reinforcements.

In a move likely to infuriate many foreign parties, the Soviet Hobgoblins, Kan-gels, and Puffins are loaded-up with Meteor missiles stamped, "Made in India". At this moment in time it is not much of a stretch to judge the building Air Wing attached to Soviet 1st Corps in Africa as possibly the most formidable aerial force ever seen. The variety of aircraft, their numbers, the freshness, training, and victorious experience of their pilots, the support of the unscathed and modern AfCom infrastructure, the high level of motivation, the speed, the agility, the stealth, the range, and now the armament of the force meant that at last superpower was coming to bear in the African conflict.

But the task was formidable. The war one of toing and froing. Now the Soviets had this force, so deployed, with Meteor in its inventory, but at the same time the dishonourable Yankees were restoring ships to service in their vast fleet. Yugoslavia had broken neutrality but Italy had entered the war for the League. Dra-pol was rumbling again, but Samarkand was courted by Versailles and the Kazakh puppet show. Abassamara had been invaded with force, but only because Aiyana had already thrown his weight behind the imperialists. The Soviet 1st Corps considers its aerial component the best that their could possibly be, but it prepares to battle at once the combined forces of Russia, Nigeria, France, and Spain. There is no way now to deny that this conflict is a Third World War set to be as great and terrible as the two that preceed it, and as tea warms their sleepy joints the Indian aircrew have a moment to consider what they are about to launch into.

"Now hear this! Four Squadron prepare for maritime strike! I say again, all Springer arm for maritime strike!..."

OOC-Um, BG, I think you missed some of the ground rules, we had already said that the rest of the conflict would be put on hold for the duration of the combat, and that no new combatants were to join, only ones that were in theatre at that point, so no new Combines, or Spanish, or Soviets. And where exactly did this huge air fleet come from? What are we 8,000 kms away from India? I am going to ask that we are able to finish the battle that we started without problems, it is shaping up to be a good one, and please don’t ruin it. Please.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Based on what Quinn said, am i allowed to join or not, Since the Spanish are in theatre, but hes just said "no Spanish"

((I want to quit my job. Now then! I trust Wingert implicitly, and have total confidence in him. LRR it is not a question of brushing up per se but the overall type of battle you are setting up here that I an incompatable with. We can duke it out on the ground, but we are just apple and orange when it comes to naval combat. Now then, God save Wingert! Im off to craft a new character driven spy game for AMW! Stay tuned!))

OOC: Based on what Quinn said, am i allowed to join or not, Since the Spanish are in theatre, but hes just said "no Spanish"

OOC-I think the understanding is, that these are the fleets currently engaged, and if there is a secondary battle, based on the incoming reinforcements from both sides, then you and the Combine would be included as fresh fleets.

WWJD
Amen.

(OCC: Yeah, the Spaniards and the Combiners will probably both be late-comers, charged with covering the retreat of one side or the other.

The thing about the Kh-55s is that, although there are a lot of them, they aren't moving terribly fast. So it shouldn't be too hard to shoot a lot of them down. There isn't, after all, a whole lot of terrain for them to hide in going over the ocean. Should I edit my last post or do a new one? Sorry for my slow pace of posting here.)

OOC: Well that doesn't make much sense, does it? Don't send more forces, 'because'. Don't ruin a battle by trying to win it? The Soviet Commonwealth has just entered a world war... the Commonwealth Air Guard isn't going to sit it out because it'd be unsporting to win a fight that somebody else started. There's not yet any certainty that much of 1st Corps's air element will be able to reach significant enemy forces, anyway. Have to see how it plays out.

OOC-Um, BG, I think you missed some of the ground rules, we had already said that the rest of the conflict would be put on hold for the duration of the combat, and that no new combatants were to join, only ones that were in theatre at that point, so no new Combines, or Spanish, or Soviets. And where exactly did this huge air fleet come from? What are we 8,000 kms away from India? I am going to ask that we are able to finish the battle that we started without problems, it is shaping up to be a good one, and please don’t ruin it. Please.

WWJD
Amen.

BG, Please. And where did those forces come from? There are extra fule tanks, but come on.

WWJD
Amen.

(OCC: Since roughly the beginning of this war we've been marshaling forces in the former Lusaka, mostly heading them to Libya, although now that the AfCom has registered its opposition to the League I'd imagine that a lot of the aircraft slated for deployment north were re-routed west.

Notwithstanding, I don't actually think the Soviet planes would have the range to reach the battle, which I see as taking place roughly north of the Cape Verde Islands. Maybe they could ferry up there and refuel at Dakar but I don't know whether it would be worth it or not. Personally I'd rather see them put to use knocking out French bomber bases in Nigeria, but they're BG's to command.

With some luck I'll have an IC post up today.)

(OCC: Yeah, the Spaniards and the Combiners will probably both be late-comers, charged with covering the retreat of one side or the other.

The thing about the Kh-55s is that, although there are a lot of them, they aren't moving terribly fast. So it shouldn't be too hard to shoot a lot of them down. There isn't, after all, a whole lot of terrain for them to hide in going over the ocean. Should I edit my last post or do a new one? Sorry for my slow pace of posting here.)

OOC-Yeah, I am willing to accept that, with these missiles, they are quite technologically advanced and so on, but there are better ones for naval anti-ship combat. I am kind of going with the idea that the rest of the more effective missiles, would be just that, more effective, but these would come in in a swarm to rival any massive Braveheart-esque flight of arrows, and that they are depending on overwhelming the defences to do some major damage more than anything. The point being, even if you were to shoot down 80% of them as they came in, remembering that they are coming in roughly during or immediately after the rest of the attacks, that would still mean 2-3 missiles per each and every ship in the fleet. I am most interested to see what is left to press your range advantage and though I am pretty much serving my submarines up like lambs to the slaughter, I am hoping that this will even out what is going on here.

As for the logistics of it, I would prefer that we included that in the first post, perhaps just edited to have a list of classes of ships with the names and to include all of the attacks from the Kh-55s and the Bulavas, but I completely understand the problems involved with both types of missiles.

Then, I will be more able to repond to your counter-measures and we can go from there. This is getting awesome!

O, BTW, could you Tg me or something when that happens so that I can post my reaction accuractely? Also, do you want me to wait until then to react to the sub combat that is engaging the Nigerian Fleet, it seems to make sense, but whatever you want is fine with me.

WWJD
Amen.

(OCC: The problem remains that the Kh-55 is really damn slow, so, although they have some massive warheads, they're going to get massacred before they are able to use them. I think they'll function more to use-up Loviatar missiles than to actually sink that many Indian warships. Anyway, I edited that there post. I suppose its about time to get the battle with the Nigerian Navy done with, and the submarines.)

OOC: Heck of a battle, what? Some Soviet aircraft will wait in western and northern AfCom for the possibility of long-range strikes on ships attempting to return to Nigeria, but if it's all right with everyone I'll use the bulk of Soviet 1st Corps's air wing to attack Nigeria concurrent with this battle, but to be RP'd after, when everyone's got time. So for the purposes of this battle, attempts are being made to attack Nigerian forces, in case it matters, but we'll detail it later.

Soviet Aircraft will find themselves dangerously vulnerable to Roycelandian Ack-Ack fire, missiles, naval vessels, and aircraft if they try to intervene in the Atlantic Naval battle...

OOC: Well, this means I've got to RP something now, because if Soviet forces intervening against Nigeria's dictatorship are attacked by Roycelandian forces then the probability is that Soviet/Roycelandian fighting will become entangled with Indo-Strathdonian/League fighting, hm? Unless the Roycelandian threat is just bluster then I can't see a way around that. Well, I'll keep it small to begin with, and if a new war kicks off we'll see whether or not it is practical to start a new thread.

Soviet aircraft interdicted by Roycelandian forces will find their pilots covered in medals for winning the first battle in the last chapter of the fall of the Roycelandian Empire, so goes the popular retort.

The idea that Royce would declare war on India in order to protect the Holy League's murderous campaign of slave-taking, torture-conducting, cultural and political rape will, if uncovered, certainly trigger total war against the more than expectedly cruel and unwise empire.

Has the fat man finally lost his mind?

Muanda, African Commonwealth

Cramped Preston ASuW Patrol aircraft leaving here to search for hostile submarin assets off the coast of the pleasingly co-operative Congolese power fly over the town of Banana with a daft smile on the faces of their quickly-fatigued crews, who soon come to call their aircraft banana crates, in which they feel bent and green like the unripe fruit.

NT-7X Kan-gel electronic countermeasure aircraft also lift-off, flying on long-legs and with the help of a couple of Marathon tanker aircraft operating over the Gulf of Guinea. Along with more able Marathon and a series of Morrigan drones the Kan-gels work to intercept League and Roycelandian communications, gather electronic information about force movements and dispositions, and wherever possible to jam League radar and transmissions. The crews work mainly against the Nigerians, deemed less able, less committed, and more to the point also much closer.

Few expect that their limited missions will have a battle-winning impact, but it is better sometimes to do a little than to sit and wait. For waiting Geletians get drunk, high, horney, and playfully violent in a manner that frequently leads to injury.

And then two Morrigan UAVs flying from the central Commonwealth and controlled from Zanzibar are deployed to 'count the guns', or rather to test Nigeria's defences. Launching a pair of modified air-launch Mangonel cruise missiles from high altitude over international waters they target the busy waterfront of Port Harcourt, aiming for dock facilities. Satellites and other drones attempt to observe from afar the Nigerian reaction while NT4C Hobgoblin feed from a Marathon tanker aircraft and linger quietly just south of Sao Tome.

OOC: Well, Roycelandia may be expanding our holdings in Nigeria as well, and the Cape Verde Islands are likely to be very nervous about Soviet aircraft flying anywhere near them.

More importantly, I'm a little concerned about this sudden Soviet take-over of most of Africa. Since we've got no African Commonwealth player or Lusakan player, I don't think it's fair for the Soviets to basically decide that that means you can move entire armies in there and basically say "Oh look, now I've got enough soldiers to pwn Africa!". You'd be up in arms if Roycelandia annexed all of Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and then took South Africa for good measure...

OCC: AC told us that Kinshasa would be very much on board with all this, and Lusaka's sudden disappearance isn't, I think, a good reason to forget the decades-long relationship between that nation and India. Indeed, at the beginning of the war Lusaka pledged full support for anti-League efforts, and disappeared after NG began his extended absence.

**OOC** Look, BG, have the decency to stop your movements in Africa until the naval battle per se is resolved. Thats all their is too it, if your not in the fleet you dont get to play, or rather with you if you play you ought to only play with your ships. I could be doing all kinds of movements, but everything is dependant on this battle in the main between LRR and Wingert. Voila, please behave. I thought we agreed on this people? Any more 'massive' and 'decisive' Soviet movements without the ability for a line by line respionse and I am going to call Mod here. Thats all there is to it. Ciao.

Realistically, BG, if you start moving troops into Lusaka, we're going to go in and retake the country. Remember, the official Roycelandian position on Lusaka is that is is not a sovereign country, just Roycelandian Territory under temporary non-Roycelandian administration.

In other words, it's one thing for Lusaka to generally exist and engage in good-natured sabre rattling with Roycelandia- that was a lot of the fun of Sub-Saharan Africa, the tripartite, tongue in cheek sabre rattling, bickering, and so on- and quite another for them to host the Soviet Indian Military in any size more than a naval base on Zanzibar. I think it's probably best that all these massive troop movements on your part be reversed until we can sort all this out.

OCC: That is totally out of the question. We've been moving troops through Lusaka since the beginning of the war and if its taken this long for you to notice it then it isn't our problem. ICly it will matter not at all what Royce threatens to do about India moving troops through Lusaka, because Port Royal has absolutely no authority over the place. And if Port Royal does try to do something about it, all the troops and aircraft headed for West Africa will simply change their destination. If you're going to invade Lusaka, go and invade it. Don't dictate to us what we can and can't do on the basis of Port Royal's threats. India is aware of them and is ignoring them.

(OOC: Okay, let's try to spell things out one more time. Soviet forces have been in the United African Republics for years, never mind the start of the Holy League war. We have a large base on Zanzibar covering half the island. We sent Marines -and the INU sent Paras- to help over-throw the nationalist junta and restore Derek Igomo to the presidency. He'd been visiting John Bull's London when the coup took place, so that would have been the 1990s, I suppose? Indian co-operation with the UAR was older than that, with Soviet arms and Union aid all over the place. There are already thousands of Soviet personnel in Tanzania, and the INU has been known to use the facilities many a time.

As TCB says, you're quite free to invade if you like, though. Raipur would, quite honestly, love nothing more. It would be so much easier to fight lonely REA on this side of Africa than the League alliance on the other.

Yes, Kinshasa already gave its approval when Tias came back (the second time, and vanished again. I'm sure he'll be back once more, eventually. Flighty so and so).

If we've conquered anything, it's Namibia, and that's only because they had 7,500 military personnel and a communist foundation. And it's not exactly the same kind of conquest when you put the masses in charge of day to day affairs.

As to NG's protestations, what can I say that has not already been made quite clear? Soviet forces are in Africa, Soviet forces make up the bulk of the joint fleet fighting the League, if Roycelandia wants to interdict Soviet aircraft in Africa that's up to Roycelandia.

Leave it to you BG to bring a great naval battle to a grinding halt!

(OOC: Well, thanks for that unjustified insult, Vecron, but for future reference it would probably be best if you didn't do it again, really. Ask yourself where it came from when, in fact, Royce and NG stopped to make inaccurate OOC criticisms that have been quickly delt with, and when there is no evidence to suggest that anything has come to any kind of halt. One would suppose that the battle will continue as soon as other parties have on-line time.)

((OOC>>

Tias here. Am doing my best to find time, and trying to ressurect the applicable nations. For clarification on AC's doings go here: http://z9.invisionfree.com/NS_Modern_World/index.php?showtopic=309&st=30&#entry1381843

And I would appreciate it if people waited interacting with AC in any way till my nation in resurrected and I can post.))

(OCC: Certainly, Tias. I doubt that many of the most damaged Indian warships would be able to limp back to Kinshasa anyway.


Though I'm pretty sure it was said before, I amended my last post, so, pending its approval, we can get started with this again.)

Cape Town, South Africa

"Our Government is well aware of the situation in Namibia, Mister Wigglesworth" explained the South African Defence Minister- a man with a thick South African accent, who pronounced the name of his country as "Seth Effreka"- as he and Wiggles had a late lunch in a bistro near the Government Buildings in Cape Town.

Martin Wigglesworth- known to all and sundry as "Wiggles", aide to His Imperial Majesty Emperor Royce I, was in South Africa, along with Roycelandian East Africa's Governor-General, Philip J. Fry, as part of a general "Goodwill Visit", and to discuss further trade deals between the two countries.

South Africa and Roycelandia had maintained a friendly but cautious relationship with each other since South Africa became more or less independent from Britain in 1910. The South Africans were wary of Roycelandian expansion (and did not want to swap one Colonial Power for another), and the Roycelandias were somewhat less than impressed about the South African's less than enlightened attitude towards... well, anyone who wasn't a White European, basically.

"Then I'm sure you're aware of the certainty that the Soviets are arming certain elements in Namibia, and that said elements may grow restless and cause trouble across the border here in South Africa" explained Wiggles as he took a bite of his grilled salmon.

"The South African Defence Forces and the local police are more than suitably equipped to deal with any kaff... er, troublemakers who attempt to cross the border" replied the South African Defence Minister, taking a sip of his wine.

"Even so", continued Wiggles, "The Roycelandian Government would like to establish a Counter-Soviet Operation Training programme- with the blessing of the South African Government, of course."

"An interesting proposal, Mr. Wigglesworth, but what would be in it for South Africa besides the privilege of having Spitfires flying at low altitude scaring the wildlife and empty .303 brass littering the veldt?"

Wiggles told him.

"I see. Those are indeed good reasons, and most compelling. Naturally, I shall have to talk to some of my people, discussions with the President, that sort of thing. You know how it is."

Wiggles nodded.

"In the meantime, we'd like to discuss the trade deal which was tabled by our respective Ministries of Trade recently..."

(OOC: Woo-hoo, low-intensity bush-war in Sub-Saharan Africa ahoy! [starts thinking up good names for communist hit-squads and student organisations])

OOC: I didn't think you'd have any objections somehow, BG... ;-)

**OOC** Just to be clear I have been the Saints and BG has been a very naughty boy. Now that that is out of the way I have no objection to Soviet forces in Africa, let me postpone the chorus of LRR and BG which rings ad infinitum…all I am saying is that can we please halt the land based RP until the naval battle is over. You seem to have awkwardly sidestepped that last point of mine, the critical point that activity should cease while the naval battle is ongoing, after that exploit your African pieces to your hearts delight. I appreciate this, and also shall have appreciated the fact you will in the future coordinate your invasion of Ethiopia with the West African timeline if you do not seek to exploit any marginal factoids. That is all, carry on.

(OOC: Just to be clear, if you're going to lay that down as if matter of fact, er, how is that so? Considering that I don't have to change anything that I've done, due to it all being correct and stuff, and that I'm not the one to have raised objections, I mean. Puzzling.)

Tsarist Fleet Commander Leonid Beketov was concerned. He stood in the Flagship of the Fleet, with its massive Command and Communications systems, the TS Ukrainya attempting to coordinate the largest single submarine offensive in the history of mankind. He had not listened to his advisors, and though he really didn’t understand submarine warfare, though ASW was clear to him, he sent them out as though they were just another ship in his fleet. He used them to launch literally over one thousand missiles and torpedoes at the enemy. And the damage that he wrought, though perhaps not the decisive victory that he had hoped for, was great, ships were sinking, others were turning from the battle. He took a long pull from his Roycelandian cigar and straightened his uniform, as he turned back to the flurry of activity all around him as commanders and technicians and communications officers scurried back and forth shouting the latest developments. But the losses were going to be heavy in the submarine arm. Wingert and Adrianna would have questions. AS he exhaled the thick smoke and overlooked the satellite data, he was already formulating how he would pin it on the chief of the submarine staff, the very person who embarrassed him at the staff meeting saying the plan was foolish. Yes, that would do. He received the word that the French commander had relinquished ultimate fleet command to him, and smiled. Now, whatever the outcome, his name would go down in history. He commanded the largest war fleet in a single engagement in human history, and the fate of the Holy League may hang in the balance. Win or lose, his name would be spoken for centuries. But as he reached in his pocket and pulled out the faded picture of his wife and child, who was under guard at the Winter Palace to ensure his loyalty and…motivation. He put the picture away, and asked for the reports, as the news that the Progressive Fleet was bearing down on his position caused his stomach to knot with the knowledge that at least in some cases, they would have the first shot with their superior range. He did wonder what fleets of this size steaming towards each other with all due hast must look like from the air, though. It must be glorious.

Akula-Improved Class

The two targeted subs immediately take evasive manoeuvres, knowing that they have been spotted, with one diving to max depth while changing course and picking up speed, while the other commander chooses to deploy their noisemakers running at their current depth and speed, while going to all stop and a slow dive. The super-agile Akulas do make a good showing of themselves through this, and two of the torpedoes take the bait and follow their “original” target only to destroy decoys, with their real target now all but disappeared, but the other does not do so well. Had a camera been there, they would have seen heroic efforts on behalf of the captain as he deployed every counter-measure at his disposal, but in the end, the chase was on, with the Akula running at depths of up to 565 m, far past its “never-exceed depth” and at speeds of 35 knots, the chase and manoeuvring was the stuff of legendary dogfights of the air, but to no avail, some time later at a depth of 400m during an attempt to allow the Type 17 to go under the belly of the boat, an almost accidental collision occurred and the explosion tore the belly of the boat open with a tear that brought it to the bottom in minutes. All hands were lost.
(25 officers, 26 enlisted)
(1 Akula-Improved lost)

Victor IIIs

The Victor IIIs were coming under major fire as they made their incredibly risky launches at their 50m firing depth, but got their payloads off, which drew off some of the incoming as they rushed in an attempt to protect their main battle group. But they had unleashed some terrible revenge on the ships as they were diving and turning en masse, all except the one that had experienced firing problems, and was soon deploying emergency rubber craft full of enlisted while radioing their surrender, though admittedly in Russian, that particular word being left out of their Indian phrase books.
(All crew going to water, up to 100)

The four of the other six were hit broadside as they turned to run by Type 17s and Type 3-Bs. The other two made good their opportunity and submerged as low as was safely possible while charging ahead as quickly as their VM-4 Pressurised Water Reactors would carry them, which was quickly an apparent 56 knots!!! As soon as they were able to achieve that speed, they shot through the water to the relative safety of the far side of the HL fleet.

Of the four hit, one was destroyed in a massive explosion immediately, having detonated some of the explosives within, with another surfacing as it began to signal its surrender, and the last sinking fast with all hands. The last, would have made it, but hearing his comrade signal surrender was too much, and he turned again and rammed the offensive craft, taking her and most of her crew, as well as his own, down in a suicidal display of Tsarist brutality.
(360 crew lost-30 in water)
(4 Victor IIIs lost)

Oscar Class

The 3 boats that had surfaced for their myriad troubles were all quickly targeted during the melee, and sunk in a barrage of anti-ship missiles, though some sailors managed to get to water, the vast majority were gone, along with the other Oscar I that went down with all hands, the Progressive Fleet never even detecting its presence, and the Tsarist later denying it was ever there.
(210 enlisted, 160 officers lost; 35 enlisted 20 officers to water)

Yankee Class

The 25 Yankee Class Submarines, after delivering their devastating salvo to test the extreme limits of the numbers of missiles that the Progressive Fleet could/would handle, immediately submerged and set sail for Marseilles and Cherbourg to be re-loaded with another 1000 Kh-55s and redeployed ASAP, the Kh-55s having been delivered quite some time ago to France for this very reason.

Sierra Class

The 2 boats were ordered to a forward position to tow their sonar arrays and wait to defend the main fleet for the inevitable counter-attack. With the INU commanded fleet bearing down on them, it was necessary to know what surprises they may have in store.

Alfa Class

These incredible machines were lurking still, having been moved from the main fleet in order to provide anti-submarine strength should an undersea dogfight occur, a task for which they have no equal on the world stage.

Typhoon Class

These three craft were given undisclosed orders, but at least one of them was to stay on long-range patrol with their nuclear payload as a deterrent for an escalation in that regard.

Nantes Class

These French subs that were the equivalent of a late Ohio Class USQ sub were still among their surface brethren, waiting for an opportunity to be put to best use.


OOC-Losses So Far:
(781 lost, 185 to water)
(3 Oscar IIs, 1 Oscar I, 4 Victor IIIs, 1 Akula-Improved-lost)
(1 Victor III-surfaced and damaged with fire)
(25 Yankees, Typhoons?, 1 Oscar I, 2 Akula-Improved Class-withdrawn)


Submarine Fleet Left In Theatre

3 Victor III Class
2 Sierra Class
7 Alfa Class
6 Nantes Class
(?) Typhoon

Nigerian Fleet

<QUOTE>
2nd Fleet-
Based-Lagos
Commander- Rear Admiral Ba Raji
Note: This Fleet is considered the highest priority and is given preference in everything. It is the Fleet most likely to be deployed as these ships are the best prepared. The entire submarine force is assigned here.
Total Main Warships-20
1 Kirov Class Battlecruiser (Flagship)
3 Kashin Class Destroyers
2 Sovremenny Class Destroyers
1 Udaloy I Class Destroyer
5 Krivak Class Frigates
3 Grisha III Class Corvettes
5 Kilo Class Submarines
<QUOTE>

With the missiles (How Many?) coming in at the fleet, far sooner than they expected to be hit, the Nigerians flew into action, with alarms going off and men running everywhere. Luckily, they were at a state of advanced readiness, so not caught completely unprepared, but not nearly what they would like.

The Krivak Class Guided Missile Frigates immediately try and open with their guns and anti-missile rockets hoping that their fire will bring down those missiles that slide in, with the Grisha’s firing copious amounts of anti-missile missiles into the air and the Udaloy showing itself to be the respectable cornerstone of the outside air defence net. Of course, the two Ka-27 series helicopters take off and streak towards the contact area while requests for support are sent into Her Majesty’s Imperial Nigerian Air Force for support of some kind.

OOC- I find that I can’t write this without knowing the amount of the missiles, if I could get that, I can finish it off, if that is OK.



WWJD
Amen.

Indian Fleet

Aboard Zhob, Ali Khan Marakkar listens to the reports coming in from his fleet's A/S screen, which, even as Russian submarines retreat, continues to send its helicopters after them. Apparently his frigates cost the enemy at least nine of its ships, but this doesn't much please the Marakkar. Outdated, quite poorly-employed, and hunted by perhaps the most experienced and best-drilled navy in the world, they should have all been eliminated, and as to how the enemy ships were able to sneak up so close to his force in the first place remains a mystery. In return the Leaguers destroyed five of his ships, one of them an irreplaceable carrier, crippled two, and damaged another six. Nearly two thousand men went down in the enemy submarine attack, all of them invaluable to the Indian subcontinent, and some of the best, if not the best, sailors that the world has to offer. It displeases the Marakkar greatly that these Indians were martyred by an enemy careless with its resources and equipped with sub-standard warships.

The A/S screen, reinforced by the Gauntlet-class frigate Ddraig from the main formation, remains on-station however, frigate captains quite certain that the Russians are not the only ones slinking about below the waves. Alert, though, and smarting from the heavy losses suffered in the first attack, they are doubly ready for further enemy submarines. Towed arrays are once again deployed to hunt for Leaguers below the thermocline layer while crewmen reload 324mm and 533mm torpedo tubes. A/S helicopters, Lynxes and Ka-32BGs especially (Sea King operations having taken a hit with the sinking of Ibrahim Haidari) continue their operations at as high a rate as possible, rearmed and eager to inflict further damage on reactionary naval assets.

Russian submariners in the water might be surprised to find the Union and Soviet frigates inbound to their position not intent on gunning them down or chopping them up with their propellers, but rather intent on rescuing them. Certainly the highly professional Indian naval services stand in stark contrast to the Frenchmen, who seem to have no sense of honor or dignity, and to leave men in the ocean to drown goes entirely against the sensibilities of a Union commander at least. Doubtless many Indian sailors are of a mind to machine-gun the Russians, but the vast majority, many veterans of the Malacca War, are not eager to inflict such brutality on the helpless. Scrambling nets and life preservers are readied on deck, while armed parties of marines stand by to make sure that no League fanaticism manifests itself aboard an Indian fighting ship.

AEW helicopters continue to monitor the airspace ahead of the battlegroup, watching closely for the first signs of airborne P-700 missiles, weapons which ought to just about be in range of the Indian battlegroup. Russian Granit missiles easily amount to the most threatening of weapon aboard the Holy League fleet, and they're apt to cause very heavy losses when they're deployed. The Marakkar can only be thankful that the Russians didn't make more warships capable of carrying the system, and that he didn't have to use the bulk of his SCS-400s earlier.

The Marakkar has one advantage on his side that the Russians and the French cannot themselves claim, and that is in naval aircraft. Aboard CS India, Igovian aircraft handlers work to ready the ship's 36 embarked Puffin V/STOL fighters for action. Armors fit these Puffins with two Vanguard ASMs each, plus a pair of DRAB ASRAAMs and a centerline drop tank. These two Igovian squadrons will serve as the air wing's strike element, and all together will be able to deliver 72 of the Harpoon-alike weapons. Puffins embarked aboard the other three Soviet carriers, CS Krondstadt, Concorde, and Belinus, are likewise readied for action, but, instead of Vanguard missiles, these 36 aircraft are loaded with L'Angelot Maudit BVRAAMs, weapons quite superior to anything in the French or Russian arsenal, and DRAB ASRAAMs for short-range fighting. Flying from the light carriers, this half of the force will function as the escort for the strike component. As pilots climb into their superb aircraft with every confidence of victory and with every intention of avenging their lost comrades, the carriers and their close escorts turn into the wind, and, at 800 kilometers away from the Franco-Russian fleet, the aircraft are launched.

Meanwhile, much further north, four Anunkai-class SSGNs slowly move into firing positions, some 250 kilometers away from the Franco-Spanish fleet, a distance that should close further as the enemy's warships approach from the northwest. Running on their backup electric drives, the four Igovian submarines are very nearly inaudible, a capability gained at the expense of a respectable speed, but one that should allow them choice of position. Surely the loud Alfas won't hear them, and old Grishas and Krivaks, though specialized A/S vessels indeed, will have a tough time at it as well. And all those problems are doubtless compounded by the fact that the Igovian submarines don't intend to get much closer than 200 kilometers from the Franco-Russian fleet, still well within the range of Charioteer ASMs. Crewmen aboard Tower, Archer, Aurora and Dacoit load each of their boats' four 517mm torpedo tubes with a Charioteer, while a 670mm Type 4A is readied in the heavy tube for use against offending A/S vessels. In all the submarines are ready to launch 16 Charioteers, on the surface a paltry number. Though they might not be able to deliver much in the way of volume of fire, the four Igovian boats are launching missiles that travel, in their final stage of flight, almost three times the speed of sound, and remain supersonic throughout their flight profile. Ten Russian Granits managed only to damage a Union destroyer, but then again almost every Indian ship had a respectable AAW battery. This is, at least as far as the Soviet submariners know, not the case in the Russian fleet at least, where a great many vessels are fitted with old and unreliable equipment, and where a great many warships themselves are old and unreliable.

They hold off, though. No sense firing until the missiles have the best chance of hitting their targets. The Anunkais will, after all, only have one shot for the near future.

Opposite the Nigerian Navy

Grishas and Krivaks might indeed have anti-missile defenses, but the eight A/S escorts won't be able to put up very much in opposition to the 24 Soviet missiles headed towards them, at least not unless the Nigerians massively refitted them, and this is not believed to have occurred. AK-630 guns on the Grishas stand a chance at downing the Vanguards, but the fact that the ships have only one, and that the Vanguards maneuver during their flight, would seem to make this an iffy business. Krivaks, though larger, seem even less well-prepared to meet the threat of incoming ASMs, lacking even a single AK-630 gun. It is against these eight vessels that the weight of the Soviet missile volley is directed, but the Ortiagons don't wait around to observe the result. As soon as each of the four vessels has lost its payload, it moves away from its launching position and begins to maneuver, moving, albeit slowly and quietly, in towards the Russian fleet while the other three Ortiagons, slightly to the southwest, prepare to launch their own missiles. None of the submarines makes much in the way of noise, wary of the prospect of Russian A/S helicopters converging on the area. Indeed, as the first missile-launching group, its members widely separated to begin with, melts away, the second trio of Soviet submarines prepares to repeat the process some distance away. It is hoped that this wide dispersal of position will help to confuse the Nigerian Navy and to mask the true strength of the Igovian submarine force facing it.

(OOC: While naval operations remain almost entirely under LRR/TCB's control, I thought that I ought to contribute something direct from the Soviet view.)

Submarines

Aboard the Commonwealth Ship O Gylch Y Pegwn Deheuol -that's essentially Antarctic to the non-Celts- a colourful crew wonders at the amazing qualities of their Ortiagon Class submarine. Thirty-two hands, most veterans of the Hound Class to which few can now believe they once trusted their lives, counting amongst them several women, a sixty-two year old veteran who has to be repeatedly reminded not to launch torpedoes against Union warships, and more Bengalis, Tamils, and other Indians than Celts.

The engines -and most other systems- aboard their 2,300 ton vessel nestle silently in sound-proof modules suspended on elastic supports, turning a low-noise propellor that can, if required, push them about under-water for two weeks without breaking the water's surface in any form. Apart from producing virtually no external sound, the arrangement of these systems on uncoupled blocks makes them proof to all but the most violent shocks such as may be generated by attacks against the boat. A Hound (or any Russian opponent) -more likely to be detected in the first place- would burst here and there, snap this and that, and who knows what else, where an Ortiagon will barely shudder.

Able to have their torpedoes swim out of their tubes under their own power rather than firing them in a noisy manner like the enemy would only improves the confidence of the crew, who feel quite close to sure that they're going to sink enemies and get away with it.

Carriers

Aboard Belinus, meanwhile, a different atmosphere prevails. It is more murky than the depths at which the Ortiagons stalk.

"Nah, that definitely shouldn't be happening." The reassuring words of a duty officer in the engine room. Belinus had been damaged in action in the past, serving from Madagascar to the Coral Sea, and the crew were starting to have grave doubts about the repair job they'd done to the Kraken diesel powerplant while distracted by celebrating their significant part in the obliteration of an entire French fighter wing at New Caledonia. "In fact, I'd venture to say that something that shouldn't be on fire is pretty damn well on fire."

"'Coolant'. Hm. Comrade Lieutenant? Should these socks be in here?"

"Well, we'd all be breathing toxic vapours if they weren't, but I'd still really prefer that Evans had used A FECKING BLOWTORCH! EVANS!"

"He's transferred to Dacoit, comrade Lieutenant! Wanted to be in submarines, like his brother."

The Grand Fleet

Vice Admiral Eric Longworth smiled as he read the latest dispatch from the MoD. He stood on the flight deck of the HMS Queen Elizabeth, his gracefully aging flagship, and watched the ratings scrub down the deck in an ancient tradition still known as holy-stoning. Petty officers wandered amongst the men, dispensing encouragement, reproof or advice as the situation merited. Longworth smiled wider, his greatcoat blowing about him in the Atlantic wind. These men were Britain, he mused, and they would be sailing to her defence once again.

"Commander Laurie," he said abruptly, turning to his chief of staff. "Notify the captain that we shall be proceeding south within three days' time. Begin preparation for immediate departure and notify all ships that they are to complete provisioning operations with all available dispatch." Laurie saluted and moved off, motioning to various department heads that formed the admiral's 'family' of staffers. Longworth turned back towards the heaving sea, and smiled once again.

"Laurie!" He had to shout over the blowing winds. "Please contact Ali Khan Marakkar and inform him that the Grand Fleet is proceeding to battle!" Laurie grinned visibly. It was about time that the Royal Navy showed its worth, and they intended to do just that.

Longworth's mind ran over the strategic projections that he had drawn up several months ago in the event that the Grand Fleet found itself facing a combined League threat. His best chance, it seemed clear, was to hold at beyond visual range and launch a series of co-ordinated air attacks against the enemy's vessels, making full use of the GR.11's increased strike capability. The Tsarists could throw up a hefty wall of aircraft, but the Flankers and Foxbats that they could be expected to deploy were hardly a match for the Fleet Air Arm's state of the art fighters. Further, an absurd amount of League naval power was concentrated in battleships. By remaining well out of range of their heavy guns, the Royal Navy could expect to dodge the vast majority of the League's offensive power.

The danger, of course, lay in the submarines. Longworth was well aware that his fleet suffered the disadvantage held by western navies since the dawn of the Cold War-- that of a small and ineffectual submarine arm. His Trafalgar class SSNs were decent long-range patrol vessels, ideal for commerce raids and carefully executed attacks on surface ships. But for fighting other submarines, often at knife range? In that harsh and brutal school, the League's submariners had learned well. Spanish boats had proven their superiority only weeks before, and poor co-ordination showed the cracks in a supposedly integrated Anglophone navy. Below the waves, he would be forced to rely upon the Australasian Collins-class, a superb but erratically-manned craft.

But as the fleet slowly came to life around the admiral's eyes, he couldn't help but be pleased. Harpoons were racked in their launchers, drums fitted to Goalkeeper guns and Asters lowered into their VLS tubes. Tomahawks and Storm Shadow-Ns came to rest there as well, and submarines surfaced to be filled with Harpoons, Mk-48 ADCAPs and Spearfishes. The League was about to taste the wrath of a vengeful and prepared Royal Navy, and this time the battle would take place on Eric Longworth's terms, not Marechal du Mont's.

Indo-Strathdonian Fleet

As the Royal Navy prepares to join the battle, INS Zhob pushes ahead along with the rest of the Marakkar's fleet. In spite of missile damage, the destroyer still maintains a comfortable 22 knot cruise, and can make 30 easily, although to do so might incur some danger owing to the sporadic control had by the helmsman over the damaged rudder and steering machinery. Repair details weld steel plates over shrapnel holes while orderlies tend to the wounded and the oil-soaked survivors off Ibrahim Haidari.

Ali Khan Marakkar receives Longworth's transmission just as his carriers launch their air wing in a mass attack on the League fleet. With the fleet apt to come within the Leaguers' missile range in a matter of minutes, he can't craft much in the way of a response. Still, he knows full well that British support will probably seal the fate of the League fleet, and, as long as he knocks-out the Russian cruisers and a good portion of their Sovremennys, the Royal Navy will probably be able to handle most of the fighting against the Frenchmen. But either way, he is not about to leave the battle when there are still enemy ships to be sunk. A reply is sent to Longworth's flagship.

"We are engaging the enemy. We will try to leave something for you to finish. We are confident that the Royal Navy will live up to its high reputation."

Of course, there is no telling as to what the Soviets will think of this. Certainly London's decision to commit its forces to battle has no impact on the Marakkar's decision, who would gladly take on the Frenchmen and the Russians together with a single destroyer even older than Zhob, and doubtless the Igovians have the same attitude towards the engagement. Will the Soviets collaborate with the British in general? That particular issue troubles Parliament, but the Marakkar could care less. In the middle of a battle, he can't take time to consider political implications.

Soviets view the British commitment in mixed fashion. Sixty years ago the then-Beddgelen Indian National Army was butchering British forces and businessmen on the sub-continent while the would-be Union waited patiently for independence. For forty-two years Prince Llewellyn courted British conservatives and drew heavy support from British capitalists while oppressing leftists and non-Geletians across India. But, in the last seventeen years, John Bull and to a lesser degree George Mainwaring have taken actions that met with Soviet approval, and, as yet, awareness of British reticence in the war against feudalism has not become pervasive in India.

Not long ago Mainwaring's Whigs pulled forces from Africa after the Tories had deployed them, and still more recently Longworth sparred with the French and Spanish on the high seas. Talks with the French look more like a blip now that the Admiral is returning to action, and most in Soviet India are inclined to believe that the conservative lobby in Britain is as much Britain's enemy as it is India's. Most in the fleet are prepared, for now, to believe that Britain is a good country, so far as the west goes, and, being pragmatic, inclined to view the British as at least the best that one can expect from a savage continent.

How the tables have turned, eh?

Internal weapons bays loaded, victories over New Caledonia and Nepal remembered, Puffins away! If the Union's sailors are some of the world's most experienced, the Commonwealth's pilots are perhaps their aerial like, some having in this day and age enough kills -against developed-world opposition- to claim the title ace.

(OCC: I think we have time for a short aside from the naval battle.)

IC:

India

With the Suez Canal once again open to Indian shipping, the INA prepares to heavily reinforce its contingent in Libya. The anchorage at Surat sees a convoy of eight auxiliaries, configured for troop transport, tied-up at the quay. Men load the ships with munitions and vehicles, bound for the war in Africa, while khaki-clad infantrymen, carrying new INSAS rifles and LMGs, file up the gangways with their rucksacks and duffel bags. Most of the troops wear the insignia of either the 10th Mechanized Infantry Division or the 1st Armored Division, both until recently based in northern Madhya Pradesh, and experienced divisions that participated in the occupation of Myanmar and the Malacca War. They are heavily armed as well, as evidenced by the MT-2 tanks and other armored vehicles and self-propelled artillery that drives onto the RO-RO ships Sandalwood, Teak and Pipal. About two brigades' worth of troops and equipment ought to arrive in Tripoli aboard this first convoy, the remainder due to land in the subsequent three weeks. For the Defense Ministry, this warrants a change of name. Libya Force, formerly consisting mainly of Parachutists and Commandos, becomes VI Corps, now with at least two regular army divisions under its charge, plus a modest force of warships. Brigadier General dos Santos is meanwhile promoted to full General, the fifty year old ex-Centurion gunner thus becoming the youngest corps commander.

A heavy escort is gathered for the transports, headed by the newly-completed cruiser Derawar, and consisting of the frigate Sawaj, the light frigates Graeme Igo, Damoh, Jhabua, Narsinghpur, and Rajgarh, the minesweepers Jacobabad, Badin, and Umerkot, and the new submarine chasers Bombard and Daring. Enough, Indian admirals think, to keep the Italians at bay, and perhaps enough to later threaten supply lines to Algeria. And doubtless the Igovians will match or exceed this commitment fairly easily.

More commandos and paras are slated for deployment to Libya as well, to reinforce the already large contingent of special troops already part of the INA's commitment there. Marathon transports and conscripted civilian airliners soon have the whole of No.2 Commando, excepting a single battalion on Zanzibar, in Tripoli along with major equipment, and two regiments from the 153rd Parachute Brigade are not far behind. With a great many jeeps and light trucks, they are equipped for deep raiding cross-country, though a number of high-speed landing crafts are also sent to Libya with the commandos.

Foreign Ministry commandos are sent off to Libya too, since the type of fighting taking place in West Africa presently is their specialty. Skilled and experienced guerrilla fighters all, some of the Foreign Ministry personnel will be infiltrated into French-occupied territory to assist irregular troops fighting there, while others will have the task of training guerrilla fighters and providing them with logistical support. At the head of this force is none other than Air Commodore Vasily Podgordin. At first a fighter pilot in the IAF, and then a special pilot for the Foreign Ministry, Podgordin must be infamous in France by now, having fought with the Indian contingent during the Lavragerian War of Independence. During this war he added a League attack helicopter to his tally in what was probably the first air-to-air kill scored by the An-14.

Legless, eyepatch-wearing Podgordin can't himself take the pilot's chair anymore, but his injuries did not prevent him from running a highly successful air bridge to the forces fighting for Director Hotan's restoration in Dra-pol. Missions over West Africa, by comparison, should be a walk in the park.

And last of all, the 33rd Light Infantry Division is brought out of southern Rajasthan, the first INA unit raised from that troubled and questionable state, where until recently the hated Frenchmen maintained a presence. As an entirely new formation, the 33rd lacks a great many experienced officers and NCOs, though some saw action fighting the Rajput princes and their followers. The commander, a veteran infantry commander who fought in the Malacca War and in Burma, is one of few exceptions, although the highest rank he ever held was that of Major. Before shipping to Surat, the unit stops over in Pune for last-minute training and re-equipment.

The Mediterranean Sea

It is not often that Indian warships operate in the Mediterranean Sea, enclosed as it is by the Suez Canal and the Strait of Gibraltar. Not since the second world war did India's strategic interests necessitate any kind of deployment into what is, in Mumbai, thought of as a European sea. But with Libya under threat, and in light of Yugoslavia's recent brush with the League, the Naval Office is forced to do things a little differently.

The first Hindustani warships active in the Mediterranean are the two submarines Faisalabad and Barmer. They are advanced Bihar-class types, fitted with modern air-independent propulsion systems that allow them to run in silence as complete as is possible for a modern combat submarine. At just over 56 meters in length, the Hindustani boats are well-suited to operations in littoral waters as well as in the middle of the Mediterranean, and they are crewed by well-drilled and experienced sailors with capable captains, both of whom saw service during the Malacca War. Along with Libyan Hounds and perhaps Yugoslav Heroj class boats, they are out to break the League's naval superiority in the area, and morale is high aboard the Hindustani submarines as they set out on patrol.

But high morale does not equate to complacency. Union submariners are quite aware that they face the whole of the Regia Marina and, doubtless, much of the French and Spanish navies. Caution, at this stage, would seem just as important as valor.

Libya

The pace of the IAF's airborne deployments to Libya slackens somewhat, as No.44 Squadron's heavy transports find themselves needed further south, in IV Corps' area of operations, but equipment and personnel continues to arrive at Tripoli and Benghazi after the long, circuitous flight up from Tanzania, through the African Commonwealth, the C.A.R., and Chad. Fortunately, Bangui's Hinds and N'Djamena's PC-7s can't challenge the high-flying Marathons and Tu-154s even if they want to, and those trips are about as eventful as they are expedient.

INA analysts and staff officers, headquartered in Benghazi and Tripoli, travel widely to assess the state of Libya's defenses, and spend their time devising a workable plan for the African Campaign. Of utmost importance is the gathering of intelligence on French and Nigerian strength and disposition in West Africa. Indians and Libyans tried once before to put a stop to the damn Frogs' presence in Africa with an end run on Algeria, only to discover at the last minute that Algeria was garrisoned by perhaps a million French and Algerian soldiers, far more than the invasion force, spearheaded though it was by troops far and away superior to anything extant in the Holy League, could have handled. Unioners for one are not eager to repeat their mistake. Immediately a search for agents in Algeria is initiated, while the headquarters in Libya agitates for the creation of a dedicated intelligence branch under the Ministry of Defense.

The border with Tunisia is also widely visited, and Libyan troops are advised to prepare strong defenses on that frontier as a precaution against a French assault through there. Although Tunisia may as of yet be neutral, the handful of Malian and Nigerien troops fortunate enough to reach Libya, for one, can attest to France's good faith and respect for diplomatic convention. President Ben Ali is visited by Indian diplomats who try to impress on him that point, and advise him to make ready his military, because, sooner or later, the League is going to come down on Tunisia in pursuit of its stated goal of attacking Libya.

Union light infantry and special forces, meanwhile, spend most of their time training, with a view to bring some discomfort to the Frenchmen before they conduct a particularly troublesome operation against India's vital Libyan base. But while most of the parachutists and commandos practice desert driving and navigation, a small detachment, formed of volunteers from the Paras and the Commandos, as well as Libyans and even an Estonian, trains not in Libya's barren interior but in the Gulf of Sidra. Dubbed the 595th Independent Company, they don wet suits and rebreathers, and slink about underwater, attaching deactivated limpet mines to the bottom of an old freighter.

In the fleet, Beddgelens submit to Hindustani leadership. In Eritrea, half a million Soviet troops are happy to begin shipment on to Libya. Raipur has decided to leave Abassamara up to Armand and, to a lesser degree, Mumbai, and to move its forces through the Suez to Libya.

Soviet India has decided to wipe-out all Christian force in Africa, starting with the Nigerian invasion of Niger.

WIGs unload troops at several thousand per day, along with hundreds of tonnes of equipment. Raipur estimates that within four months all West Africa will be Soviet.

Half a million -pre-prepared- troops a couple of hundred kilometres? Soviet India hardly breaks a sweat in reaching for victory.

Soviet ships pouring through the Suez take troops from Eritrea. Any attempt to stop them will lead to the immediate annexation of Egypt. The enemies have, evidently, decided to hand victory to socialism.

Jai Hind!

News of the Soviets' decision to deploy in such numbers is received extremely well in the INU, and Parliament can only hope that the Soviets haven't overstated their ability to conduct such large operations. For sure it will stabilize the Libyan situation and allow for the elimination of the twin threats -Frenchmen in Algeria, and Nigerians in Niger- facing Libya. Few believe that the massive Nigerian army will be able to move with sufficient strength and rapidity to counter such a move, and likewise the French Army in Algeria is not believed to possess many first-line units that would make a speedy attack against Tripoli's western flank viable.

Unioners only hope that NATO won't make trouble, and money for passage is always wired promptly to the Suez Canal Authority. In the event that NATO does indeed prove itself a friend of the Holy League, the INA does begin to draw up plans, albeit very secret ones, for an invasion of Egypt.

Planners begin to settle on a campaign for West Africa that is initiated by two main thrusts, one Soviet-led coming from the north to destroy the enemy in Niger and Mali, the other an amphibious landing on the West African coast making use of IV Corps, Strathdonian forces, and Commonwealth troops. Such information is kept absolutely secret, of course, shrouded in a cloud of deception and rarely allowed to leave Mumbai except in the hands of an escorted courier, ever equipped with a weighted briefcase and a cigarette lighter.

Beneath the waters of the Mediterranean, a collection of four Roman subs hunt Soviet shipping heading for Libya and Hindustani subs. Caesar Romulus finds it hard to believe that the Soviets could honestly think that they could go through Mediterranean unmolested. Heck, even if they were moving against Germany through the Mediterranean, Romulus would not allow Soviets passage through without making their nose a little bloody. 1 U212A, 2 Sauro IV and one Sauro III performed hit and run and run attacks on Soviet shipping, hoping to stop as many troops from setting foot on Africa as possible. The subs will hunt and target the Soviet ships, then dive to the depths, running silently when approaching the convoy. Soviet reaction to the attacks may severely dampen Roman efforts, but that will only invite Rome into Africa.

Hail Caesar!

Soviet WIGs, needless to say, are not much worried about Italian submarines, being as they are impossible targets for the vessels except when in port, and most go ashore anyway. Dwrgi-P WIGs, though, do patrol against such threats, backed by the Libyan military. Flying a few feet above the surface at several hundred kilometres per hour, protected by Libyan-Soviet SAMs and aircraft ashore, these machines bear 305mm torpedoes ready for action.

Few Soviet ships have yet begun to take part in the sea/air-lift, being mustered in the Red Sea while escorts arrive. The trip across the Arabian Sea was regarded as relatively safe due to the proximity of Armand and India (and the poor regard in which Roycelandian forces are held by the Soviets), so some time is required in gathering frigate and corvette strength off Eritrea.

Of course, Raipur hopes that Rome will enter Africa in strength, enabling the communists and their de facto allies to cripple as many League nations as possible in one theatre. The prospect of invading the European mainland after liberating Africa is a daunting one even in the minds of the most confident and enthusiastic Geletian warriors.

The Mediterranean Sea

Roman submarines are, of course, a major concern with regards to the two Union boats operating in the Mediterranean, but then again it could hardly be said that the Unioners aren't eager to do battle with the enemy. The Italians will have a very tough time finding the two Bihar-class vessels, running as they are on their air-independent propulsion systems, and otherwise benefiting from the wealth of noise-reduction features incorporated into the design by famously adept Hindustani shipbuilders and naval architects. Small as well, easy to hide even in shallow littoral waters, they would seem to stand a fairly good chance of going about their business undetected for the extent of their cruise.

The two Indian submarines creep along at five knots, moving west to their stations. Faisalabad, captained by an old salt who cut his teeth on ancient T-Class submarines, lingers south-southeast of Crete, while Barmer patrols off the coast of Egypt. The entrance to the Sea of Crete is thus monitored, along with the stretch of sea between Crete itself and North Africa. Crews listen for Roman, French, and Russian contacts on highly sensitive passive sonars, and it is not too long before they pick up, faintly and distantly, the sounds made by the three Sauros sent by Italy to interrupt the reinforcement of Libya. Diesel-electric types, one fairly old at that, they are at a disadvantage when facing far quieter AIP boats.

Union submarines remain silent, though. Enemy Sauros might make tempting targets, but Italy is known to have two German-designed Type 212 boats, in most respects comparable to the Bihar, perhaps excepting torpedo armament. And unlike the Leaguers, who doubtless saw the Hindustani boats coming through the Suez Canal, the Unioners have no idea where exactly it is that the Italians sent their most capable submarine assets. If they stick where they are, the Hindustanis think they may be able to ambush any Italians, or other League submarines for that matter, headed towards the Suez Canal, without having to make a whole lot of noise themselves. For any League submarine to make an impression on a convoy, they'd have to go and attack it, after all, and there won't be any such thing in the Mediterranean for perhaps a week.

It is not, to the dismay of many crew members, an especially aggressive posture, certainly overly cautious in light of their boats' capabilities. But at this stage priority in the Mediterranean, for the Unioners at least, is to not lose, and, by sticking themselves between the Italians and the Suez Canal, the Hindustanis can effectively stand in the way of any attacks against the convoys coming out of there.

But in the meantime, the Naval Office resolves to reinforce Faisalabad and Barmer with the name-ship, the first of its class to complete a major refit which saw the hull stretched by five meters, and which added the capability to launch Brahmos anti-ship missiles, amongst other things. Together with Libya's handful of Hound Class D/E boats, leftist submarine assets in the Mediterranean must, figure the naval planners, be approaching ten hulls. Past five, at least. Romulus might be stunned that the Soviets have decided to take the war to the enemy, that is his problem. No Indian sailor dips his or her foot in the Mediterranean without knowing full well that the slightest lapse in caution and alertness may very well lead to disaster. The idea of an Italian wolfpack torpedoing India's warships as they come through the Canal is a horrifying one and one that every Hindustani submariner is determined to keep in the realm of imagination.

OOC-Can I get an update on the African land war, and I should have an update for the naval battle soon.

WWJD
Amen.

OCC: As far as I know, nothing particularly interesting has happened. More troops are being sent to Africa from India, France is advancing, etc. etc. etc. NG will have to post before we know anything on that front.

Sierra Leone

The first of the 36th Field Engineer regiment arrived on a specially chartered Fokker F100, touching down in Lungi International Airport as the sun reached its daily apex. As the doors were drawn open, Captain Hannah Balenda felt a wave of heat hit her full in the face. It wasn't a pleasant experience, tinged as it was by the myriad smells of jet fuel, smog and the sweat of a hundred Royal Engineers. Hannah huffed through her nose to clear the smell momentarily before standing and dragging her duffel from the overhead compartment. She slung it over her shoulders, grunted with the weight, and followed her colonel off of the aircraft.

The sun outside was worse. Flown in from Britain that morning, Hannah wasn't particularly well prepared for the heat, nor for the sun. A few moments of rooting around her pockets produced a pair of sunglasses, which she crammed hastily over her eyes before dropping her duffel on the dusty tarmac to form B Company of the 36th Engineers.

Camp Margai, outside of Pepel

The Harmattan blew in hard and dusty, as usual, and stayed for months. It was a cold, bitch wind that carried in the dust of foreign wars and lurked as a haze over Sierra Leone. For Captain Balenda, dismounting from a Land Rover, it was a poor welcome to Africa. Her previous overseas postings, to Germany, Cyprus and Gibraltar, had all been rather pleasant. Good beer, good beaches and good accommodations, respectively, had made the three far better than Camp Margai was shaping up to be.

A large mess-tent had been erected by the more intrepid Coldstream Guards, who were currently engaged in the clearing of brush nearby. They slept, it seemed, in an esoteric collection of tents that ranged in age from the Dra-pol conflict to the most recent pattern. Headquarters, currently the home of the Guards' colonel, was another mess-tent from which protruded a variety of aerials. Arms were piled in small teepees within the vestibule of the tents, magazines removed and carried, presumably, by the soldiers.

Hannah could tell that she would have her work cut out for her.

Ft. Ste. Jeanne d'Arc

"Who's actually in charge, here, my good man?" Major Robert Browne thrust his hands into the pockets of his safari-style uniform and peered at the French subaltern, a man with the look of an unemployed lordling who had sought his fame in the Army of France. The lordling, for his part, gave Browne a disdainful glare.

"Le Marechal is busy, monsieur. I will happily pass a message on to him." His tone made it clear that while the message might be passed, it would spend several hours bouncing around the subaltern's head before being scribbled down on a post-it, whereupon it will be transcribed to a white card and delivered with the Marshal's evening meal. Browne suppressed a grimace, and reminded himself that he was dealing with the race that had been defeated in every war in its entire history. Military discipline was not to be expected from the Gallics.

"Yes, of course. Please notify him that the British Expeditionary Force has arrived, and that we will be ready to take up peacekeeping duties in the former ECOWAS holdings forthwith."

The four Roman submarines patrol the Mediterranean along the most logical path for any convoy to take from the Suez Canal to Africa. They run deep, with their sonar crews listening intently for any traffic that is heading to the contested continent, if even a Monk Seal has an interest in Africa, they want to know about it. Yet while this information is good to know, it is the Bihars that they are really after. Once they were gone, the Romans would be allowed to pick off any Soviet shipping to Africa or force them to hold the convoys until the Romans were dealt with. Intel reports proclaim that about two or three subs running in the Mediterranean with another on the way. The three Sauros, aware of their noise disadvantage proceed cautiously, as silently as possible and travel at a depth of 800 feet. The U-212 Scire runs at a higher depth several kilometers behind the Sauros.

On the bridge of the Scire, Captain Ambrogio Selva stands and waits through his duty shift for any kind of news, feeling rather bored. They had been searching for several days now and not heard a peep from one of the Bihars, but Selva had gotten a strong gut feeling they were close. The events of the next few minutes will get be more than he anticipated.

“Capitano,” Sub-Chief Herrari, the SONAR operator exclaimed, “I’ve got a contact.”

“Is it our prey Heri,” Selva asked walking to his officer, being careful not to raise his voice too far.

“Sounds like it,” he answered, “he’s about 11000 meters off out starboard bow, heading perpendicular to our course.”

“Has he made any indication that he’s heard us?”

“Not yet, Capitano. Though he may hear the Sauros, but is waiting to see what we do.”

“And our boys below, what are they doing?”

“Holding course, again waiting to see what we’re going to do, and keeping an eye out for the other Bihars.”

“Alright,” Selva’s heart began to pound with anticipation, “Helm, take us on an intercept course and increase speed to put him in torpedo range. Get me a shooting solution on our prey, I want to arm, flood and open torpedo tubes 1 & 2 once we have a lock. We’re not going to have much time once we prepare the torpedoes, so we have to quick about it. We are now running silent everyone. Herri, you tell me if the bear starts to turn.”

The Scire moved into position, the painstaking minutes for the boat to move into firing range passed like they were days. Selva’s hands were wet with sweat and shook as pre-battle jitters took hold of him. Roman discipline took hold over the crew and none of them made a sound as they worked. Selva stood near the SONAR and the weapons stations watching each one of them nervously for any action.

Finally the weapons officer called him over, “We’re in range and I’ve got a shooting solution on the bear,” he whispered.

“Arm, flood and open torpedo doors, Mister.”

“Aye sir.”

Once again Roman discipline took hold of the torpedo crews and did their work in record time, “Torpedoes ready.”

“Capitano,” Herri called in a hoarse whisper.

“Fire!”

Two MU-90 torpedoes launched from the Scire’s bow and locked onto the Bihar soon afterward and sped for their target.

Hail Caesar!

Mediterranean Sea

The crew of INS Barmer is hardly asleep all this time. Certainly they hear the Sauros, and, not far behind, the Italian U-212. The fact that the Italians hear the Barmer is indeed surprising, but Captain Shureesh Ajanta isn't much disturbed by it. As the Italians ready their torpedoes, Ajanta waits, secure in the knowledge that he has six 533mm Type 24s loaded and ready for firing. Unlike the old captain to his north, Ajanta hasn't been serving for very long, and never had to deal with ancient, dangerous equipment or poor morale. As such he is especially daring, prone to take risks and eager to uphold the tradition of victory and bravery that characterizes the Indian Navy. He'll let the Italians show themselves first, and then he'll cause bloody mayhem.

Sure enough, moments later, his hydrophone operator picks out the sound of flooding torpedo tubes and the whoosh of a firing torpedo not long after that. The whine of the Italian weapons grows louder and louder, but it will take nothing short of a direct hit to sink the Barmer, designed as it is to absorb the force of far larger torpedo explosions. And neither is the submarine sitting still. Ajanta orders a crash dive, while at the same time he looses all six of his fish, four of them aimed at the Sauros but two set to acquire targets after launch. Torpedo decoys are released from the sail as Barmer dives and turns a wide circle, into the MU-90s. This is done after his weapons are in the water, so the Italians will have to use their own decoys, and the noise of those will hopefully prevent the enemy from getting a fix on the Hindustanis' position. Even if one of the Italian weapons impacts right beside his ship, Ajanta knows that he won't suffer much in the way of damage. It is a chance that he is willing to take, and, if he's lucky, they'll track the decoys anyway.

Officers bark orders and a superbly drilled and motivated crew carries them out as well as any captain could expect. A fair few of the men and women aboard Barmer saw action in the Malacca War, so this type of engagement is not entirely new to them. Italians might adhere to Roman Discipline or somesuch, but the Hindustanis fight with the determination, courage, and skill that comes with membership in a service that has been fighting more or less non-stop for about half a century. One of the MU-90s continues towards Barmer, seemingly unperturbed by the barrage of torpedo decoys, exploding far too close for comfort when its seeker is finally fooled. The submarine is jostled and the crew members inside cling to handles and fairings to avoid being tossed about by the shock wave, but besides a few bruises there are no major injuries to the crew and no major damage to the boat. Just as it was designed, Barmer bent and shook, but did not break.

Ajanta means, first off, to cause mayhem and panic amongst the Italian submarines, to disrupt their efforts. He is at an advantage, given that Barmer is the only Indian submarine in the area, and the Italians will have a difficult time picking it out from their own submarines. As his hydrophone operator indicates the other Italian torpedo veering off the boat's position, Ajanta orders the helmsman to get closer to the Italians.

"New course, 60 degrees to starboard, ten knots!"
"Aye, captain!"
"Bring us close to them! They won't know who's who in that mess! Torpedo officer, reload all tubes!"
"Aye, sir!"

With plenty of noise to mask their already extremely quiet motors, even running at a moderate speed, the crew of Barmer sneaks closer to the Italians, who are, by now, doubtless dealing with their own set of problems. If an enemy submarine is put under, it will be an added bonus, and just that would look rather likely, given that there are six quite large torpedoes running at about fifty knots at the enemy's more noisy and older boats. But mainly Barmer seeks to confuse and disorganize the enemy, which has complicated things by using a great many submarines in relatively close proximity. By getting close to the Italians, Ajanta will make it very hard for the Italians to fire at him, for fear of hitting one of their own. He could then slip away, to engage the enemy at a later date and under conditions more favorable to him, or he could slug it out close-range. He'll decide, of course, after the fate of the six fish already out and moving is known. Their own guidance systems ping away, but, devoid of the guidance provided by the far larger and more advanced sonar suite aboard Barmer, a high hit rate should by no means be expected. And Ajanta does not yet feel ready to sacrifice his maneuverability, especially not when faced with so many enemies.

Mediterranean Sea

"Hydrophone effect!" Commander Harding, a whip-thin Cornishman with a sallow face, spun on his scuffed heels. In the process, his precariously balanced submariner's cap slid off of his head and landed on the deck beside him. He ignored it, fixing his gaze instead on the sonar operator who stared at him with large, blue eyes.

"Which one fired?" Harding referred to the two submarine groups that HMS Torbay, a Trafalgar class submarine of the Royal Navy, had been tracking for the past three days. It was entirely likely that both sides were aware of the Torbay's presence, considering that the neutral boat was making no real effort to conceal itself. Harding hoped fervently that neither side mistook his boat for that of an enemy. It was unlikely, considering the Trafalgar's uncommon propulsion type and hull tiling, but possible nonetheless.

"The Italians, sir," the Sonar operator replied steadily. His face wasn't terribly familiar to Harding, who was operating with a new crew after being transferred from the HMS Superb, an ageing Swiftsure type. Harding noted that the man was young, blue-eyed and scared.

"Well, then," Harding said, raising his voice to be heard throughout the command cabin. "I expect that we're about to see some excellent seamanship, Gentlemen." With studied nonchalance, Harding clasped his hands at the small of his back. "I don't expect that the Hindustani captain will permit his boat to be hit. Observe his movements carefully, Sonar, and note them in the Log." He smiled encouragingly. "I don't think that we're going to be made a target, and we might learn something about shiphandling."

The Royal Navy's training had been sadly neglected for the past few decades, financial austerity having taken its toll. With the dawn of the League War, the sad state of the Fleet's base at Gibraltar had led to its rapid and somewhat embarrassing fall. In view of that, the Lords Admiral had concluded that the fleet was badly wanting in seagoing experience, and drew up a new deployment pattern so as to keep the Navy's principle combatants at sea for long periods of time. Their standing orders were to observe naval combat between the League and the Progressive Bloc, and incorporate the lessons learned into tactical exercises within the fleet.

OOC: Crap, I can't write today.

((Hey guys, finally posted again. First time in months or so? Couple items to the addendum. Mainly I did not do any specific moves because I have no idea what anyone has done in my long absence. It is fairly general, so I think it gives all parties involved to respond with plenty of room. So that’s about it, there are some changes in store for the war effort as you see below. Maybe, we all have to try for something better. Life is weird like that. Just take it as a resumption, I will have a bit more time now, but please lets start of slowly getting this West African rp going again. It was good, and maybe now can be ever better. Fine to be back, coming up on three years this November! My Lord!))

De Nocta Magna Ludovicus Regis

Some men take drugs to ease the pain of life. Some take them because, for a while, they let you seem who you wish to be. And some take them because, for good or ill, they change reality. Those kinds of people, often good soul trapped in an evil world, take them because they think can find the truth that way.

Louis-Auguste was one such person. Bereft any longer of any emotion, mired by a failed plan and by countless obstacles, confronted by sheer senselessness, he obtained the services of a shaman from Ft. Kourou, New Provence. The shaman, Light Jaguar, had been brought to Versailles, and there he prepared for the King a potent concoction: one designed to let a mortal view things normal men ever should, a potion that would let a person glimpse, for a short period of time, the spirit world.

It began at midnight, the appointed time. The ceremony lasted hours, just the King and Light Jaguar. The former played drums to ward off evil, and the latter played a flute to petition heaven. At the end of it Louis-Auguste drank the strange herbal potion. The walls melted away, and the King was assaulted by the sheer kinetic force of life. Darting off like a gazelle, he fled the palace and darted of into the garden.

France’s liege groped along a bank of yew trees, stumbling down the vast hedge maze, the potent psychedelic compound coursing through his veins, pumping through his arteries. He knew terrible angst and blinding anger. So many emotions pumped through the heir progenic of House Bourbon as he ran along, violent and horrible emotions. All the pain and hate he bottled up over courses of wars, from the his father’s Lavragerian to his African, all the riots and secrets and decrees and failed goals replaced blood as Louis’s vital fluid. Hate, moreover, of a failed belief: that chivalry could exist in the modern world. He growled and yelled incoherently and he dashed along. Louis screamed.

But most of all he felt the darkness of that night, forgetting heaven’s lights, and he glimpsed into madness. The black air whispered, then yelled “Doom, Doom.”

Running ever faster through the endless geometrically symmetrical labyrinth of ornate bushes he stumbled, grasped for balance. His night robe was dirtied and torn from the fall, also was his hear torn, his head bloodied. When he rose Louis no longer looked a king, but a mad and shattered dream become nightmare.

He was alone. Alone, all alone, no court was about him, no guard of honor, more damned than most mortals could conceive. Alone in the dark.

But then there was light.

His terror first became perplexion as the meadow where he stood radiated a fresh new light, and that soon became joy.

Before him was a maiden of legend, the sainted girl who rose above all to save France itself. The Maid of Arc, Jeanne d’Arc. She wore a simple white shift, and she held two flags. The one was a like white banner emblazoned with fleur-de-lys and the other was white too emblazoned with a glorious golden cross, symbol of Christ and the Right. Some sort of sun rose above them, shining down warm golden radiance. Peace descended as assuringly as a blanket.

The luminescent maid stared at the quaking king, reaching into his mind.

“It is enough.”

He felt strength and life flow back into him. Louis felt compelled to ask. “Who are you? Who is here?”

“Just us,” her voice was like a pure silver bell.

“We are a dying people, Louis. So are the Africans. We have become so obsessed with each other’s death that death is all we deserve.”

King Louis-Auguste looked shocked, “But they started it. They and the Communists, and all the revolutionaries.”

Sainte Jeanne d’Arc shouldered the sadness of that question.

“So will you then finish it? Shall we fight rebel armies and communist legions until there are no more French, and no more Nigerians, no more Algerians, no more West Africans or Hindustani’s, and no more Indians?”

The simple soul who was at the heart of the King of France shuddered and felt penitent at such proclamation.

She continued. “What does it matter who started it, Ludovicus Rex? Who can judge us if all are destroyed. All that matters is people are dying.”

Le Roi replied, “I have an obligation, I must carry on, we must find victory.”

The maid’s eyes shone with sad hope. Not sadness like that of fools, but that deep sadness which is at the heart of wholesome creation viewing the mortal world.

“How have you upheld that obligation? How can we honor our destiny if France dies, if all creation burns around us? All man shall be bereft of hope. True darkness, entropy, shall prevail.”

Her light grew a bit brighter.

“Let us turn from this cycle of pain and death, let us make a greater choice. If France is to perish, Louis, let us parish with honor, and dignity. Let us fall helping others rise! Those who we have bowed must be raised up, and made our brothers.”

Louis-Auguste stammered.

“I just don’t understand.”

“You have been blinded by hate, and do not see the truth that confronts you. We must fight for one another now, so that we may be accounted among the righteous, and not among the columns of the wicked. Let us now really defend the right, with justice and mercy, together, always.”

The mortal coil the Maid of Orleans wore melted as heavenly energy welled up in her. In that meadow Louis fell to his knees in reverence, arms outstretched in a gesture of simple forgiveness.

“You have been given the opportunity to become holy, Louis, the opportunity to become someone better, nobler, and more difficult than you have been before. God does not give men such chances often, and never without His reason.”

“Why?” said the king, on his knees with tears in his eyes. “Why did you not tell me this before now, why not earlier?”

With infinite kindness the angelic apparition came to Louis-Auguste, and lifted him up, looking into his mortal eyes with eyes of immortal light. She caressed his face as a loving mother would, and wiped the disheveled hair from his forehead.

“Because you would not have known me.”

And Ste. Jeanne d’Arc hugged him, and he knew God’s love. In his mind, and in that moment in his sacred world, the two figures, himself and the saint, melded together in a haze of pure white light, and he heard for the first and single time in his checkered life the music of the quintessent spheres—the harmony of God. The universe itself opened up to him: timeless and without doom. He saw the sun, the planets, and the constellations in their blazing glory far beyond. He saw the deeps of the ocean which only the Lord has seen; the heights of the clouds towering over gentle winds in grass stocked valleys, and the troubles of mankind. So it was that Louis-Auguste had a revelation, had for a fleeting moment seen the source.

Though the light faded thereafter he knew in his heart of hearts he would never be alone again, that he had melded with the good. With that knowledge her curled up, and began to cry in limpid abandon for his countless sins.

Sometime later the king’s eldest brother le Comte d’Artois found him in the labyrinth. Louis-Auguste rose immediately from a relaxed position. His eyes were red but he had not been crying for a while. Must have drank too much again the brother thought, until he felt the uncanny mood of the area.

And then the Most Christian King came up to his brother with the warmest and most confident smile he had ever worn.

“Things have gotten better tonight, my dear brother. As a matter of fact, I know now that we can win the war!”

His brother looked at him skeptically, “What do you mean?”

“This war has been wrong from the beginning, and will lead us far from God! I think I have seen something of the source tonight Artois.”

“We must be willing to die by the hundreds, by the thousands…but not for land or treasure or glory of any kind: for one another! We must be willing to go quietly into the night, to save a single one of our brothers. If we can do this, and embrace it with all our spirit then there is profound hope…because, then…

The Most Christian King of France’s eyes melted over, and he clasped his closest brother le Comte d’Artois hands to elbows in a platonic moment of fraternal embrace.

“…because, then, we create the possibility of salvation, not only for us, but for all.”

Artois was stunned. As he observed his brother, apparently now in a mood of complete serenity, he thought the descending pale curtain of moonlight give the king a certain aura. Maybe he even thought he saw a sign, the moon was wearing a halo that evening anyway in anticipation of a coming storm. He thought no more of it then, but it was a vision he would retain for the rest of his life.

Arm on shoulder they walked back together to le Grand Chateau.

Versailles, Hall of the Greater Pleasures, the next day

For only the second time since it was reinstituted, the Estates General of France met in assembly in the vast and opulent Hall of Greater Pleasures in Versailles. Hundreds of them, all recently empowered, all dressed in garb particular to their station, sat in the colonnaded hall. Under a canopy of white and gold, emblazoned with the thousand fleur-de-lys, sat the occupied thrones of His Most Christian Majesty Louis-Auguste, dressed in the white habit of a Dominican monk (he was, after all, the head of a Dominican clerical order), and Her Serene Majesty Queen Jillesepone, in a gown of diaphanous white silk.

Prime Minister Nicholas Sarkozy had just announced the Royal Presence, and His Most Christian Majesty moved to speak. For the first time since the war began all the major news outlets of the world had been invited to attend and film, bar none. The hall was lit up with the thousand light apparati needed to give the needed color for the equally numerous cameras, all with reporters by their sides. It was billed as a ‘momentous’ event, and everyone was eagerly awaiting any developments.

The King began.

“Thank you, Monsieur Sarkozy. Mesdames et Messieurs, I pray your guidance and attention.”

“The time has come for the Kingdom of France to seriously evaluate the situation in Africa, moreover the war in general. The apparent failure, or at least stagnation, of the peace accords in London only highlights the need for immediate and beneficent action.”

“Quite frankly, allow us to be succinct: there is no way to amend the mistakes and grievous errors of the past except to make future efforts. The policy we have pursued to re-invest the former French territories with modern French authority and governance has failed.”

“It has failed because we have sought only to reinvigorate the past without securing a peaceful future and in doing so we have nearly managed to destroy the present. Therefore, to remedy the dire situation, in front of God Almighty and His Angels Unnumbered, We proclaim the following:

The Kingdom of France will no longer attempt to recolonize the former French territories of West Africa. Yet the fact remains French forces have secured the nations of Mali, Burkina Faso, Togo, Benin, and much of Cote d’Or. As well, Tsarist Nigeria has similarly occupied the nation of Niger. In light of those circumstances, and the grave sanitary situation in these countries the war has produced, it would be a horrible and impossible event to issue an immediate French and overall Allied withdrawal. We shall elaborate on this further, in a moment.”

“Let us then turn the situation around, that some good may yet come of this catastrophe! It was a Burkinabe spiritualist who once said ‘If you are falling off a cliff, you may as well try to fly.’ So, now, at the darkest hour, when only the specter of larger and increasingly violent war looms, we are asking you to fly. In that spirit we propose the following plan: a free and independent West Africa, but not one neglected by the Occident, but nurtured and brought to maturity. A free, strong, Christian, and brave West Africa would provide the industrialized West with a valiant ally and trading partner, one greater and better than any erected by force.”

“So, then, we have changed the mission of the Kingdom of France from one of liberation to foundation. We shall atone for our violence in these states French troops currently occupy by rebuilding these nations stronger and better than ever before. We have personally spoken with Prime Minister Mainwaring of Great Britain, and President Vanessa Moerke of Quinntonia, and these excellent statesmen have assured us of their support in this change of modus operandi. The truly epic levels of relief supplies that are needed to assuage the awful pains racking West Africa indeed can only be achieved with the kind and righteous aid of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, and the goodwill of the Anglo peoples.”

“To be sure, this task is far more difficult than the one previously engaged…it is far easier to tear down than build up. But it will be accomplished, succor is at hand, by the decree of Almighty God.”

“There are two great martial threats to this new and benevolent endeavor, however. The first is easily remedied. We have order that all rebel groups currently active in the formerly mentioned occupied countries be offered immediate pardon and amnesty. They may then come forward to help build new and free governments in their homelands. We wish this war to end, and wish to build the future instead of destroying it. The second threat is far more dangerous, and far more difficult to solve.”

“The Communist powers have taken advantage of this tragedy to expand their own spheres of influence into war-stricken and desperate lands. There is talk of ‘war communism’ from Beddgellert, which has already dispatched legions of troops to ‘liberate’ Ethiopia. This nation in particular has shown glee in torturing Christians, from exposing Quinntonian missionaries to sulfuric acid to engaging in widespread programs of forcible secularization in all countries invaded by their tentacles, particularly in East Africa. They have used Libya to deploy nuclear weapons, and even now mobilize to seize all West Africa, possibly even attempt to enslave Southern and Western Europe. The Kingdom of France does not have the capability to check their actions worldwide, but the secured west of Africa, the Kingdom of Algeria, and all nations who call upon God’s Holy Name shall be spared from them.”

“Primarily this is the reason why the French people are not able to demilitarize and civilianize their efforts in Africa. A withdrawal now from the secured nations will embolden the Soviets and their Hindustani allies to seek whatever their full aims might be, and we know this includes a full scale assault on Europe, on the Papacy. Similarly sending in relief with Soviet weapons en route too is unacceptable. Therefore, we decree that all French forces in Africa shall remove to the aforementioned nations of West Africa, damaged by us to be rebuilt with Christ’s kindness, which is to say the nation of Togo, Benin, Burkina Faso, Cote d’Or and Mali, and there they will secure the situation and prepare a defensive war. There will be no further French offenses in West Africa, whatsoever, and all military actions hence shall be conducted only for the good of the West African people, and so by default the Christian West. All French and allied military actions from this point on too will be carried on solely on immediate need and only against verifiable military targets. For this purpose, French High Command awaits the arrival of multiple observation and humanitarian personnel from NATO. But make no mistake, the Soviets will not take Africa without a fight, and it will be a fight to save the African people and the Christian faith.”

“For, dearly beloved, that is what the Kingdom of France is now fighting for. We are not any longer fighting for prestige or place, to gain lands or people for the purpose of ideological seizure as the Soviets do. We are fighting to save each other, brothers and sisters, and we know that in this fight some must be sacrificed so that all can be saved. And if the Kingdom of France can do this, if we can rectify our actions in Africa, turn the war around and embrace something truer and purer than we have ever known, a cause that is handed down from on high, then God’s Grace will be with us and our people shall flourish until that last glorious day. The price will be high, but the goal, salvation, is attainable. And for that, we shall pay any price.”

“May the Lord Christ shelter us on the dark and fearsome road we must now walk, and lead us to that bright and happy light which is at its end, the happy conclusion to the parabola of our great and ancient land’s existence.”

“God Defend the Right.”

The applause that thundered onward was at first hesitant. For a number of seconds, the time it takes to register a few thoughts, everyone in the room thought that maybe King Louis-Auguste had himself become something more than he was before, that perhaps he looked not so out of place in the holy habit. That maybe, in all the vast eons of time, they were in the presence of one who spoke with wisdom. At least they could hope, and know that God has good things in store for his creations as well as evil.

There is always hope.

West Africa

French, Algerian, and otherwise allied forces withdrew to the secured West African states of Burkina Faso, Mali, Togo, Benin, and Cote d’Ivoire. So, then, slightly over 400,000 French and Allied troops, with all their material and equipment, finally had a chance to rendezvous with solid lines and organize: the offensive was over, and the war now had hope.

It was a breath of hope. No air raids, everyone rested. Particularly the secured cities of Lome and Ouagadougou teemed with activity. The lines were secured all about, and plans were made to continue the effort. No one doubted that the war would soon rise up ferociously, or maybe the rebels would not accept amnesty and refuse to assist in any civic effort no matter what. But in the mean time, there was hope among the French troops, who more than ever with their King. He was made of good stuff, and he put heart into his men.

There is always hope.

(Welcome back!)

Senegal

The only Soviet formation active on the ground in West Africa, a couple of thousand mobile infantry, are quick to spread word of widespread French retreat, and a batallion is dispatched east to prepare forward positions on the road to Kayes, Mali. The remainder will hold in Dakar and do what little it can to prepare the port for the possibility of further allied landings. Both parties are free and easy with Soviet propaganda, informing of French attrocities and defeats as well as of communist strength and the pace of development in Namibia and Bihar in particular.

Suez

At long last Indian convoys begin the next stage of their long transit to Libya, merchants, cruise liners, and miltiary transports packed with manpower and equipment and escorted by Gauntlet Class frigates, Ortiagon Class SSGs, and Gujarat Class corvettes along sealanes patrolled by fast-moving Dwrgi-P WIGs. As yet the Soviets don't even know that most of Italy's submarine strength is actively being engaged by the Hindustanis, but they still are confident that any attempted strike will hurt the enemy more than it hurts them. A near constant stream of steel ties Madras and Colombo to the Red Sea and soon to Tripoli, quite possibly the biggest amphibious event in history, and one enabled at great cost thanks only to Sopworth Igo's controversial policy of War Communism.

Most of Soviet India's commitment to Eritrea is moving, Abassamara abandoned after one crushing border engagement to Eritrean, Hindustani, and primarily to Armandian interest.

Even with the canal open, the first-tier mobilisation long completed, a foothold in Eritrea, and a full commitment to the effort, moving two million Militia Corps Experts to North and West Africa will not be a feat quickly accomplished. Pressure will build gradually against the walls of Africa's heart until an eruption of red vessels washes blue blood from the continent once and for all.

Adiatorix of Geletia says of the struggle and the Soviet part in it, "The Red Flag, as it flies above our Indian legions, remembers our revolution, true, but it speaks also for the future of Africa's in much the same way as once the banner cried when flown by buccaneers: No Quarter!"

London

Parliament, called to emergency session by the King, sat uneasily in the ancient wooden benches of Whitehall. Disdaining the wigs that had come to symbolize Monarchist France, the assembled members formed a somber blob of dark grey suits and white shirts. Small patches of colour marked female MPs in less reserved clothing, and men with particularly loud ties. At the table which dominated the hall, Prime Minister Mainwaring shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He didn't like appearing in Parliament, and avoided it as much as he was able. Wednesdays, the appointed time for questions to the Prime Minister, were the low-point of his week. That he stood in the chamber on a Saturday was unusual in itself. Mainwaring clenched his hands, forced his breathing to regularity, and straightened his tie convulsively.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Members of Parliament." His speech was stilted and uncomfortable, and not for the first time did he envy Chancellor Strathairn's easy confidence before a group. "I am sure that you have all been briefed about the, er, recent developments in the court of Louis-Auguste. Although it is not normal procedure to call for a meeting of Parliament when major policy decisions are made by other leaders, this one uniquely concerns the Empire because of our presence in Africa.

"Ladies and gentlemen, while this office sympathizes with the plight of Africans in the former ECOWAS and abhors their treatment to date, it is certainly a positive step-- one in the right direction, as it were-- that we have seen in Versailles.

"The vision outlined by King Louis-Auguste represents a bold strategic and ideological shift in the court of France, and one that has been long in coming. As Prime Minister of Great Britain, I salute this decision as the right one. It has been a long time coming, and France's crimes in the ECOWAS cannot be excused. However, what is done is done. We must now commit ourselves to the massive humanitarian effort necessary to repair the ECOWAS and return democracy to the land. The people of the ECOWAS nations deserve the freedom to choose their future, but they require aid before.

"To this end, I dedicate the resources of this great nation. To this cause, I dedicate the full might of our armed forces, and the full energy of this government. Britain has long stood for the rights of man, and we shall do so again. Britain's collective morality ended the institution of slavery, now let Britain's compassion bring hope to the people of Africa.

"I will now address the Parliament of Hindustan and the Final Soviet of the Indian Soviet Commonwealth. Honourable members and representatives, I must ask that you cease deployment of troops to Africa forthwith. The ECOWAS states have been devastated by war, and their people killed by the thousands. They require aid and succor, not more bloodshed. I give you my word, as the Prime Minister of Britain, that no further harm will come to them. I give you my word that they will be given the choice of government, the opportunity to rule themselves as all people are entitled to.

"To fly red flags and speak of 'no quarter' will not bring peace to Africa. This land has seen near-constant conflict since the dawn of recorded history, and now an opportunity exists to see that this conflict shall end. To proclaim that the time is at hand for 'revolution' is not to speak with the interests of Africa in mind. Revolution is not needed in Africa, food is. Wing In Ground Effect Vehicles will not bring prosperity to Africa, rebuilding efforts shall. I ask you, leader of one free nation to representatives of two others, to join us in helping the African people. I ask you to end War Communism, I ask you to bring your soldiers home. Africa can be great, but spreading revolution at the point of a sword will not bring greatness, only ruin.

"This nation will not permit the ruin of Africa, not when so much can still be achieved. We will defend ECOWAS borders from invasion with the full force of our army, air force and navy. We will fight not for a French king, but for the future of Africa. I ask you not to make us fight."

Lome

The C-17 Globemaster touched down at Lome-Tokoin International Airport with a shudder, sending the stacked pallets of supplies aclatter. It cruised to a stop, great wings drooping slightly as its four Pratt and Whitney turbofans whistled to a halt. The rear hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss, revealing Chief Technician Warren Penndennis, a barrel-shaped man with a face like a frying pan. He signalled the other loadmasters with a wave, and began uncoupling the pallets from their mounting points. With a brisk kick, the first pallet slid down the ramp on its rollers and came to a grinding halt as it reached the tarmac.

A forklift retrieved the pallet and began to carry it off, whilst another forklift took up position at the base of the ramp. The pallets were sorted into two groups, one destined for the newly arrived regiments of British Army troops and the other set aside for distribution to displaced persons. Tents, clean water and medicinal goods, as well as somewhat distasteful but wholly nutritious rations, piled up rapidly as the huge aircraft was unloaded. The piles were in turn loaded aboard RAF and Army Chinooks to be flown to the huge refugee camps and British Army outposts throughout ECOWAS. Refugee camps were supplied via C-130 aircraft, capable of making landings on unpaved and unprepared runways. Their pilots, predominantly Australasians trained at making bush-landings, felt entirely at home in the dusty and dry sub-Saharan landscape.

The C-17, its cargo deposited on the airport's tarmac and its tanks filled, spun up its engines. Ground crew, donning ear-protection, hastily scrambled out of the way of the enormous jet as one of the airport's runways was cleared. It would soon become one of the RAF's principle supply points, with regular trips coming in from the British Isles, South America and Gibraltar. The C-17 would be making a trip to the latter to take on further supplies, this time including various propaganda leaflets bearing images of British soldiers feeding people and setting up makeshift shelters.

British Propaganda Poster (http://www.nh.gov/ww2/images/ww45.jpg)

If the Soviets could do it, why not the British Empire?

Camp Margai

Camp Margai had changed in the past few weeks, Hannah noted with a smile. Her regiment had spent said few weeks pouring concrete in enormous slabs, raising girders and slapping machined metal on things. What resulted was a runway currently home to a squadron of Typhoon, a number of oversized quonset huts and a big radar tower. Soldiers of various regiments (the Coldstreamers having been joined by the 1st Battalion, Royal Welsh and the 3rd Battalion, Yorkshire Regiment) wandered to and fro, in some cases with rifles slung and in some cases without. A constant stream of small transports carried a few companies at a time deeper into the former ECOWAS, where they would spend a few weeks actively deployed before returning to Camp Margai.

Hannah's own company was set to deploy to Accra, where they would assess the damage and attempt a rebuilding project. Ghana's largest city, though ruined, was still home to much of the national infrastructure. Although a provisional capital was being formed in Tamale, and President Kufuor was rumoured to be living there under heavy guard, the city of Accra played a vital part in Ghana's economic success. Accra was the transportation hub of the nation, with roads radiating outwards in all directions, and Ghana's largest seaport. Preliminary surveys showed some standing ruins in the outskirts of the city, as well as several of the largest municipal buildings as being largely intact.

Her company would be the first, followed by the entire 36th Field Engineer Regiment. There was a lot of rubble to clear, and their initial airlift would have to take place via helicopter. Accordingly, an entire fleet of Chinooks would fly them into Accra's airport, where the hundred or so sappers would be tasked with clearing a runway for use by C-130s bringing in the 36th, and later the 21st Australasian Construction Regiment to begin restoration of the seaport and governmental districts.

Hannah shouldered her pack and drew her cap downwards over her blonde hair. She had her work cut out for her.

It is not long before Soviet-sponsored posters take on a generally anti-European and anti-western bent. Most are pictorial, such as one depicting a caricatured British soldier grinning widely and waving to a French trooper who picks his teeth with a bone while a village burns behind him.

The idea that people will forget French atrocities and stop resisting is seen as beyond absurd, and Graeme Igo replies to Mainwaring by insisting that fighting isn't going to stop just because you forgive France for slaughtering tens of thousands of people and wrecking their homes and governments. Your nation, he says, is not occupied. And the conflict won't stop while anybody else's is, regardless of whether or not Indian forces aid the victims... which they most certainly shall.

Field-Marshal Comrade-General Adiatorix warns that collaboration with the Holy League or any part of it will incite Soviet action and bring about war on every continent. Britain, he says, must fight the occupation forces or withdraw. Nothing else can be justified, nothing else will be tolerated.

London

Sir Andrew Strathairn stood on Whitehall's ancient steps, facing a crowd of reporters. As Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Andrew had found himself uncomfortably out of public eye. It was to be expected, going from the top job in Australasia to the number two position in Britain, but the quiet had been getting to him. Fortunately, Prime Minister Mainwaring had found himself uncomfortable with the showmanship necessary to lead the Empire. He tended to delegate his public appearances, often to Baron Thunder-ten-Tronckh, but equally so to his Chancellor.

Sir Andrew, for his part, was little changed by his new home and new job. He still wore the iconic three-piece suit so loved by caricaturists, still had an almost unhealthily thin frame despite regular state dinners, and found himself much invigorated by London's more moderate climate. His new living arrangements, a rather pleasant suite called No. 11 Downing Street, provided plenty of space for him, his live-in girlfriend and their accumulated furniture. Life in London agreed with him, as did the increased public attention garnered by a very private Prime Minister.

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen." The audience, a large number of reporters for television, radio and newspaper, lacked any female members. "I have been asked by the Prime Minister to convey a message to you. He has expressed his wish to retire at the end of 2007, and will call a general election to determine the makeup of a new government. Furthermore, he will be resigning his post as head of the Whig party, one which he has asked me to take over upon his departure from Parliament.

"Prime Minister Mainwaring has been a good friend to me, and has led this nation ably and well. He has shown energy, vision and outstanding leadership qualities, which will be sorely missed by his departure. As an immigrant to the British Isles, I must extend my personal thanks to him for the efforts that he went to to make me feel welcome in this city and government. As per his wishes, I won't drag this out any longer. Mr. Mainwaring has requested that this press conference deal not with the particulars of party politics in the UK, but rather with the emerging crisis in Africa. Accordingly, we shall move on." Sir Andrew adjusted his papers, and glanced down at a prepared speech.

"West Africa has been torn by war, beset by famine and scarred by brutality this past year. West Africa has seen cities burned, populations displaced and infrastructure destroyed. This, as any Europeans who lived through the Second World War can attest, is the inevitable result of warfare between great states. As the Nazis did to France, and the Soviet Russians did to Germany in turn, so too have the Restoration armies of Louis-Auguste done to the people of ECOWAS. Crimes have been perpetrated, and many have died.

"I will not insult you, gentlemen, by telling you that this is what warfare, whatever the cause, does. You know this, as do I. Combat operations, when carried out by large armies in foreign lands, have certain universal results that have been evident since the dawn of mechanized warfare. Volgograd, Berlin, Tokyo and Verdun can all attest to the slaughter of modern war, as too can Accra, Ouagadougou and Gibraltar. The terrible weapons of modern war can kill by the thousands, and the ruin left in a great army's wake rivals that left by a hurricane. Massed bomber formations can level great cities with ease.

"Therefore, we as leaders of nations must make war only when absolutely necessary, and only with careful consideration. John Keegan, a noted historian, once wrote a book called The Mask of Command. In it, he examined military leaders throughout history, from Alexander the Great to Adolf Hitler. He described them as heroic, anti-heroic, unheroic and false-heroic respectively, and posited that the realities of warfare in each age led to the leadership style. In his conclusion, Keegan wrote about the need for post-heroic leadership. He described a leader who will act only after rational consideration, necessitated by the development of atomic weapons capable of mass annihilation.

"Although we do not fight with atomic weapons today, the leaders of the world have access to arsenals capable of similar levels of destruction. Both France and Spyr have deployed Fuel-Air Explosive weapons with the potential to level cities. The United States has used chemical weapons such as Agent Orange that lead to birth defects for generations. The British have laced entire countries with trench networks specifically designed to prevent any living thing from crossing the no-man's land around them. We have all been guilty of mass destruction, and we must all take Keegan's words to heart. We must all be post-heroic leaders, waging war only as a last resort. We must use the weapons of peace first, and resort to our massed bomber formations only in cases of immanent threat to our ways of life.

"I direct my comments, of course, to the Final Soviet. Africa has been home to more war crimes in the past few years than any other land, crimes perpetrated by invaders and local strongmen alike. We, as the leaders of nations, must take it upon ourselves to prevent more slaughter. The British Empire has mobilized its military for the expressed purpose of bringing order to a land beset by war. We have sent millions of pounds and tonnes of supplies to the region. We have sent our young men and women to rebuild the ravaged cities of Ghana, Togo and Benin.

"You, the Indian Soviet Commonwealth, have sent an army bent on waging war. I do not care about your reasons, they do not matter. War, as the Final Soviet well knows, has only one possible end. Mass destruction of Africa is the inevitable result of the policy of War Communism, and the British Empire will not stand by to allow further destruction there.

"I do not want a war, but if war must come it will not come to Africa. Africa has been home to too much killing already. If the Soviets do not cease all shipments of combat troops to Africa within the next three weeks, my government will have no choice but to blockade the Suez Canal to all Soviet military shipping. We have already seen this crisis come to pass, and already been on the brink of world war. The Final Soviet has the ability to prevent such a standoff, but I will not waver in this commitment. Africa has seen too much killing already, I will not stand by and allow the Soviets to bring the fire there again."

Mumbai, INU

Mumbai was a beautiful city. Christina Lloyd, deputy Foreign Secretary of the Empire, loved it. The Ambassador that met her at the airport was a bit dingy, a bit worn, and she loved that too. It all felt so alive in Mumbai, so brilliantly active. Old, traditional Indian architecture melded seamlessly with modern buildings, with a few British colonial structures here and there. People walked the streets easily, in a way that they simply didn't in London, Raleigh or Washington. She could live here, and be happy.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the purpose of her visit. The Indian National Union had always been the half of India that London (and earlier Raleigh), could do business with. It had always been the half of India that listened to reason and exerted a moderating influence (if a small one) on that other half. It was that India that Christina hoped to find and talk to in Mumbai.

The Parliament knew she was coming, news had been sent ahead. They had responded with cautiously diplomatic language, clearly miffed by Britain's refusal to participate in the wholesale destruction of a French fleet and by its insistence upon remaining neutral in world affairs. On the other hand, Christina had the distinct impression that Parliament grasped what the Final Soviet either didn't understand or didn't acknowledge, which was that warmaking in Britain was not something done lightly. Britain was, it was fair to say, a bit dozy as far as world affairs were concerned, a bit slow moving and rather unwilling to be ruffled. The Spyrans tended to portray Britain as a big, dopey bulldog with a monocle, and they were absolutely right in doing so.

Christina desperately hoped, beneath her customary glee at the sheer activity of Mumbai's streets, that she could gain an audience with a few Parliamentarians. She desperately hoped that they would hear her out, because Britain couldn't hope to fight both the INU and the ISC at sea, let alone on land. And Britain didn't want to fight the INU's navy, heirs to the tradition of victory that had followed the Royal Navy through history. Military analysts were, Christina guessed, fascinated by the idea of the Royal Navy and the Indian Navy coming to blows, but the government in London took a much dimmer view of things. Hopefully, Parliament wouldn't want to see that contest played out either.

Versailles

Alan Greene, Baron Thunder-ten-Tronckh, the oddly named Germano-British nobleman and Foreign Secretary of the United Kingdom, sat with legs elegantly crossed in one of Versailles' more opulent waiting rooms. He sipped cautiously of the cognac provided to him by a liveried footman, and awaited his meeting with Prime Minister Sarkozy of France. The Baron, a minor nobleman, was obliged to carry a sword in the halls of Versailles, which rested awkwardly off of his left hip. It wasn't even his[/] sword, but one borrowed from Prime Minister Mainwaring; a regulation British Army dress sword. Dulled for ceremonial use, it would have presented little danger in the baron's unskilled hands even if razor sharp.

Versailles, crowded as usual with bewigged noblewomen and young blades-about-town, had the feel of a circus. In addition to being the King's court, it was home to many of the nobles of France. One suspected that Louis-Auguste kept his vaunted Swiss Guards close, and his idle nobles closer in accordance with the ancient maxim about enemies, friends and personal proximity. Educated and landed, the Second Estate of France posed rather more danger than the other two combined, and so the Sun King kept them relatively impoverished (it being passe in the extreme for a noble to draw a salary) and beneath the watchful eyes of his [i]Marechusse.

Versailles, the Sun King's palace, made Baron Thunder-ten-Tronckh uncomfortable.