NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC- Reference posts to be found here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=497879).]

The sound of hundreds of diesel engines turning over had become almost a second though to the residents of central Uzbekistan. Military units had been constantly moving about, in what was termed 'the largest force re-alignment ever seen in the area' by local news services. Of course the press had looked for a story- it always looked for storied. But this was just so.... boring. The military hadn't barred them from coming in and taking pictures, interviewing soldiers, or anything of the sort. In fact, invitations had been sent out to area news services when the army started to move into the area!

So both media and populace had quickly grown acclimated to the large groups of armed men moving about the countryside to various camps and rail terminuses. Indeed, this day it wasn't the sound of diesels that was surprising to the public- it was the lack of them. And that, of course, wasn't a news-worthy topic. A few calls to unit commanders just got the press the news that units had finished their purpose in the area and were moving to more permanent locations. Like that was ever going to get published. They wanted action, adventure- drama! A hostage situation in a bank provided that and both the media and viewers were cheerfully distracted by the spectacle of police negotiating with would-be robbers. For all of them, the army units had disappeared.

But where did the armored units go? Although they had disappeared from the public conscience, they had to go somewhere

Tashkent, Uzbekistan, the UARCA
The office of the Premier was strangely quiet, considering what was in the works. Planning had gone for weeks and the operation had actually started already. But Tamur Navarbayevs was quite unconcerned by it all. At this moment, he was reading a military treatise on Timur the Lame's conquests. He'd already read it, but it was a personal favorite of the Premier. A glance at the bookshelf behind him would show that anything on Timur appeared to be a personal favorite- it was filled with books on the subject. The entire collection was quite odd, really. Military and political studies of leaders and nations were almost the only thing that filled the shelf. The Premier, it could be deduced, had a bit of a one-track mind.

Only about 400 meters away, however, the scene was anything but peaceful. The main command center for the People's Guard was filled with activity, from phones and radios going off to coded messages being hurriedly decrypted. One could not imagine how the military leadership of the country could be so busy while the political leadership relaxed and read a book.

“The scouts have deployed to pre-arranged positions. Nothing reported on possible enemy movement.”

“Commander 1st Infantry reports that his forces are in position and ready for the signal.”

“2nd Tank Army is already en-route. Report that railways are still entirely clear, as was planned.”

Field Marshal Niyazov smiled as he watched the positions of various units be racked on the massive strategic map that had been prepared specifically for this operation. He couldn't wait to see the faces of the people of the UARCA when they woke up and realized how fortunate they were- another state was going to join them.

Chärjew, Turkmenistan
The first sign that officials at the railway depot had that something was going on was the masses of trains that they had reports of. From what it appeared, almost half the trains that operated on the section of track between the newly-formed UARCA and the provincial capital were moving. It couldn't make sense- it simply couldn't happen! There'd be no reason to have the level of traffic that was apparently headed towards the station.

The director of the depot stood, nervously wringing his hands, and waited for the first train to stop at Chärjew. Instead, he got the sight of a train loaded with cargo pallets go whistling past, the tarped-down forms of vehicles visible on many of the cars. The next train and the next and the next after that presented the same sight, with three trains then going past that were composed almost entirely of passenger cars, windows blacked out and with no lights.

He was growing concerned and decided to telephone to the appropriate Ministry in Ashgabat. Even as he turned, a train finally began to slow down at the platform he had been waiting on. Working himself up into a rage, the man stormed towards the first car, ready to demand to know what was going on- and was met with a heavily armed man stepping out of the train. Every passenger car was disgorging soldiers and the hapless director was soon being escorted rather forcefully to his office, where he would make sure that every train that went through could get through- no questions asked.

Ashgabat, Turkmenistan
President for life Saparmurat Niyazov stood contentedly on the balcony of his luxurious residence, looking out over his capital city. Much money had been spent (some say squandered) on the city, making it the only city in Turkmenistan truly worthy of the title of city. This was his city- these were his people, and he didn't care if some had to die in the street to allow him splendor.

The calm night air was suddenly split by the unmistakable chatter of small arms fire, the sound of assault rifles suddenly drowned out by the loud ripping noise that was a heavy machine gun. Niyazov was already turning to leap inside when his bodyguards almost threw themselves in front of him, trundling the short dictator into his secure residence. He was apoplectic with rage.

“What's going on!” he screamed as his military adjutant scurried into the room. “What the hell is-” at that moment, the loud sound of an explosion interrupted him and, turning, both he and the officer saw the massive fireball rolling into the air. -”going on?” he belatedly finished. Before the military officer could begin to speak, Niyazov was already barking out orders. “Get me State Security! I want to know what's going on!”

A short moment later, the officer shook his head. “I can't get through sir. There's nothing on that line.”

“Then get me military command!”

After another pause, the officer cast a worried look to the irate dictator. “Sir- they're off the line too. Nothing.”

Anger was now fading to something that Niyazov had very rarely experienced- fear. As another explosion shook the capital, louder this time, the dictator nervously looked out over the balcony and licked his lips. “Then get me my head of security at the palace.”

This time, the line began to connect. “Here you are sir.”

Niyazov was regaining composure and actually began to ready himself for a tirade against the military officer on the other end. But no one came on. Instead, the sound of automatic weapons, the chatter of assault riffles and the boom of grenades going off, filled his ears. “Where does this line go?” he asked quietly to the officer.

“The guard post right outside the main entrance. Sir, is there something wrong?”

Niyazov could only drop the phone to the floor in shock and horror. “There's fighting at the gates. At the front of the palace.” As white as a sheet, he began to push through his guards to get to the balcony. Ignoring their protests, he looked down at his city which moments before had been the normal peaceful scene. He now saw foreign troops leapfrogging their way up city streets, his guard forces being decimated in the yard outside his residence. As he watched, an attack helicopter unloaded its munitions on a target, but was blown from the sky by the foreign attackers. Then, the bullet hit his shoulder and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

Ashgabat, Turkmenistan
“Fuck!” screamed PFC Anatolya, who watched her sniper round go just slightly wide and bring the Turkmen dictator to the ground, bloody hole drilled through his shoulder. Her original target had been his head- the distance made the bullet go subsonic and it had hit away from the original aiming point.

“Anatolya! We've got a BMP front and center!” The cries of her squad's leader brought her back from the imaginative little dream she had just been in, where the man's jaw had been neatly shattered and a hole the size of a teaspoon was drilled through his head. Shifting position, the sniper extrodinaire looked out at the advancing IFV, which had pinned down a squad that was fighting its way towards the city center. There wasn't much armor in the city, but the little that was there was bad enough.

Gazing through her scope, she watched the top of the commander's head peek out through a hatch. He cautiously was looking around, but even caution wouldn't save him. The sharp crack of her rifle happened a mere moment after his head lolled back, half his jaw detached and a frothy pink substance spilling out the side of his head. Slumping forward, the commander's dead body was nearly thrown off the vehicle as it sprang back in full reverse, driver almost certainly cursing. The RPG through the side of the vehicle moments later probably ended the cursing.

“Let's go squad!” yelled the sergeant, leaping to his feet and cautiously running across the street on the approach towards the city center. His men and women, including Anatolya, followed him. Infantry was subduing resistance across the city and actually encountering far less than had been supposed- Niyazov had been paranoid and feared a coup by the military. His safety net, keeping the military mostly outside the city, had backfired on him.

The primary reason for this was the 3rd Motor Rifle Division, which upon pulling into the city's train depot was on its way within minutes. The troops that were attempting to group outside the city for a rescue column into the city center were fallen upon by the highly organized and elite formation, which tore through the half-hearted defenders. Even as Turkmenistani military forces pulled away from the city, more and more UARCA troops poured in as train after train unloaded. Niyazov's forces were ill-trained, had low morale, and were situated far outside the area they had been tasked to defend. For them, it was a hopeless cause.

Tashkent, Uzbekistan
“We've got reports of very scattered fighting in Mary.”

“Chärjew is almost completely taken. Reports say that troops are surrendering and citizens are peaceful.”

“Units are still en-route to eastern enclaves, but aerial reconnaissance shows very little activity.”

Field Marshal Niyazov (not to be confused with the despot now bleeding in Ashgabat) was pleased. That actually might be a slight understatement- he was ecstatic at the reports that were coming in. Resistance was light across most of the country- Niyazov, the maniac, had concentrated most of his forces near Ashkaban. Along with wealth, the military seemed to flow to the capital city. And, at this time, the outside forces were being held back from the city even as more soldiers poured in.

A moment later, every soldier in the room, including Marshal Niyazov, drew themselves up into tight salutes. Premier Navarbayevs had entered the situation room, book still in hand. Returning the salutes, he walked towards Niyazov and the tactical display Niyazov was looking over. “At ease, gentlemen. Field Marshal- how is the action going?”

Niyazov gave a smile. “Better than hoped. Our forces sprang the trap upon receipt of the signal, and almost total surprise was achieved. Much better than anticipated- the only areas with resistance still taking place that we've invested heavily in are some eastern cities and Ashgabat. As for Ashgabat, we've got control of most of it and are defending against Turkmen counterattacks from outside the city.”

Navarbayevs nodded and studied the display intently. “So the railroad is under our control then, as was planned?”

“Yes sir. Totally clear the length- the stations and tracks were some of the areas our units were first instructed to secure. It helped immensely in Ashgabat- 3rd Motor Rifle is currently holding extremely well.”

“And anything from foreign governments?”

“It's all been happening so quickly that nothing has yet been said. It's not like anyone is around that can do too much- Russia's been silent in every area in the last weeks, India is most certainly not threatening us, and Iran... well, Iran seems to be a bit busy right now. Nonetheless, scouts have reported nothing along roads leading in and our aerial recon has showed nothing- though we haven't penetrated airspace so I still can't say for sure if anything is being put together in their larger cities.”

“Request is still denied, Field marshal. I'd rather not spark any diplomatic incidents- and rest assured, we'll take care of any blow-back from the international community. Niyazov is archaic and outmoded, well out of his time, and the man doesn't engender a sense of trust or friendship. Hauling him up to trial will go a long way towards convincing the nations of the world we're serious about this- Turkmenistan will be given the glorious opportunities the rest of the UARCA has been given.”

The Premier was interrupted by some very heavy radio chatter suddenly coming in. Niyazov leaned over, listened intently, and turned back around with a broad grin on his face. “They've done it- they've got President Niyazov.”

Navarbayevs was grinning too. “Who did it and how did they do it?”

“It appears that the 2nd Infantry Division is responsible. From what I can gather, a crack shot took him down with a well-placed round to the shoulder. Our units were already storming through the palace, and Niyazov's people had no time to relocate him or themselves. We've also captured the two leading generals and the head of State Security in separate actions.”

Nodding, Navarbayevs began to walk from the room. “Excellent work Field Marshal. Your staff is to be commended. Continue, but issue the order that Niyazov is to be repaired as quickly as possible and taken to their state television center. We're about to broadcast Television Free Turkmenistan and our first act will be the showing of that vile man. And I needn't add that I expect those generals to be issuing calls for surrender of their armed forces.” He paused and gave a very slight smile. “Niyazov wasn't liked and that will play into our hands nicely. Nonetheless, should they show foolhardy attachment to Niyazov, we'll need to....ah, persuade them that issuing the orders are the best course of action for their well being. The same goes for State Security- get the files as soon as possible. I want every toady they have known to us the minute official hostilities die down- we've got peace to spread, Marshal!”

To: The Office of the Premier, UARCA
From: King Carl Gustaf XXI, Kingdom of Kopparbergs
Subj: Turkmenistan

Mossad - The Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations
SUBJ: Turkmenistan invaded by UARCA

We have received an intelligence report from Mossad saying that the nation of Turkmenistan is invaded by UARCA. We're unsure of the reason to this aggression taken by UARCA, but we assume you have legal reasons for this?

We're holding our delegation in Israel, until you can guarantee their safety in UARCA.

I'm personally looking forward to an explanation in this issue.

King Carl Gustaf XXI of Kopparbergs

To: King Carl Gustaf XXI, Kingdom of Kopparbergs
From: Premier Navarbayevs
Regarding: Turkmenistan

Your Majesty,
Unfortunately your intelligence service’s reports are quite true. The UARCA has been forced to undertake the most unlikable task of an intervention of a foreign nation- a foreign nation that has caused immeasurable trouble for the nations of the UARCA, the international community, and the people of Turkmenistan. President Niyazov (President-for-life, I need not remind you) has a history or brutal suppression of his people and a proclivity for actions that run counter to the wishes of surrounding nations.

His history of rule is filled with rampant abuses- the closure of all hospitals outside the capital, the total lack of libraries for the people of Turkmenistan, the numerous border incursions by his State Security apparatus. This last straw that was reached was word from inside sources that he was looking to begin to open his nation up to Sistani intervention- something of which I am sure that you are all too aware of, especially the cost of said intervention in any nation’s affairs.

It was a matter of utmost importance to the very survival of the Republics that the territories to our south was not in the pocket of a psychotic despot whose laws are based around making him appear to be a “superior man” to his people, whose government conducts actions totally inappropriate when viewed in context of impact to our Republics, and whose delusional geo-political ideas may lead to a dire threat to our existence. I would hope you understand the circumstances that have led to this unfortunate intervention in Turkmenistan. I assure you that the people of Turkmenistan will be free to elect their own representatives and leaders, as is standard in all other nations to their north- that is, the nations of the UARCA. I don’t know how it’s handled in Sistan, but I’d rather not let the Turkmen find out through personal experience.

I can guarantee the safety of your representatives and will despatch my personal escort from the air force for the task of bringing their flight in unscathed. You may have my personal guarantee for the safety and well being of every member of any delegation you send- any injury to them can be viewed as my fault. It is my sincerest hope that you delegation resume their journey to Tashkent and I wish you the best in all matters of state.

Premier Navarbayevs

AS the orders of the captured generals rang out over all means of communications, the regular army laid down its arms in droves. Truth be told, most weren't all too happy with serving for a maniacal dictator anyway and were relieved to stop having to try to fight against superior forces in hopeless battles. Some, however, were still fighting, more out of fear of their leader than any other motive.

The same applied to members of the civilian population- outright fear that this was all designed simply to root out traitors was an overwhelming thought in some areas. Th sight of the official news organization being taken off the air at gunpoint, then being turned back on with a live feed of the captured President-for-life under control of UARCA forces went a long way to convincing many to lay down their arms and cease resistance. The promise of immediate elections in the nation, as well as a chance to join the UARCA and gain all economic benfits that would accompany that action were also well received- word had a way of getting out about the privations of Turkmens when compared to the new-found sanctity of other Central Asians.

But most of those who accepted the new order of things were simply tired of the hardships that their lives had been, tired of the tyrannical rule they had been under, and tired of dictatorical repression. And so, fighting ebbed across Turkemnistan. Soon, only diehard fnaatics of Niyazov were still carrying on the fight against UARCA forces- and those much detested individuals were being informed on to the UARCA by civilian populations.

The operation had, so far, been a complete success.

Da Qaidam, PRC
Sergeant (now second class!) Antonov spat on the dusty road that was being blocked by the hastily-assembled force of Chinese tanks that were thrown together inside Da Qaidam, an important junction in what was, on paper, a national highway but was in reality a graded and dusty road. Two-lane too. “Fucking commies”snarled the irascible NCO. “We've been moving fine and they throw up a blockade of shit. There ain't a tank in that group that's not less than late-70's at the earliest. Pieces of shit.”

Corporal Anatolya raised her eyebrow as she looked down at him from the small shack she was balancing on to try to get a better view for the squad. “It doesn't matter if they're shit, since we ain't got even shit to throw at them. Old is better than nothing.”

“Shuddup Corporal” snapped the ill-tempered soldier. “When I need your opinion, I'll ask.”

“Yes sir!” snapped Anatolya, raising her left arm in the semblance of a salute. “Your order is my command!”

Antonov was forced to catch her when that last gesture sent her falling down from her perch. “See what you've done now? You've embarrassed yourself in front of the soldiers.”

Nothing but a grin answered him back, as she scrambled back up to her post. The cry of surprise that occurred as she got up caught Sergeant Antonov's attention even more, however. “Tanks! Driving up the road! And they're ours!”

The resulting battle, as PRC tanks sallied forth to meet the armored thrust, was as short as it was one-sided. T-90 MBTs, appearing almost as if they had just rolled off the assembly line, was more than a match for drivers of the archaic Chinese tanks even on a commander's worst day. And the men commanding (and manning) the tanks were in reality far better trained and experienced than the Chinese troops, almost all of whom were simply conscripts with little training.

In most refereed sports, the ensuing slaughter would have been declared quite unsporting. A barrage of smoke came down, obscuring all vision for the Chinese but not affecting the superior optics of the UARCA armored division. As the Chinese troops desperately tried to maneuver out of the smoke, the superior guns and gunnery of the T-90s opened up, smashing apart whatever they were aimed at. Random firing out of the smoke from Chinese tanks managed to destroy some of the attackers, but the casualties were extremely disproportionate.

Anatolya's squad moved into Da Qaidam as the advancing tanks pushed through to whatever position had been deemed their goal. Scattered fighting was taking place across the small city, but the squad experienced none. It had been like this for the last week- get stopped from advancing, wait for support, then smash through. Nastar had it from a good source that the same was taking place across the front- hell, across the sector. The only question was how far could the Chinese be pushed before they had to turn around and lash back- and how forcefully would they lash back?

Urumchi, Turkestan
Premier Navarbayevs watched the nervous men around him fondle their weaponry. “Relax Karpov!” he snapped at the leader of his security detail. “There hasn't been a peep out of this area for over a week.” This pronouncement simply earned him a baleful stare from the huge Kazakh who was in charge of the delegation.

“Could be trap.” That the man spoke at all was surprising- he rarely, if ever, interacted with the Premier. Now he was fuming inside- what kind of maniac decides to hold an update on the campaign in area that was only fully pacified and integrated a week ago? There could be dissidents still on the loose!

At that moment, as Karpov frowned, the object of his fuming appeared outside the large building the Premier had been moving towards. “Sir- it is an honor and a pride!” said General Arjul as he snapped feet together and hand to forehead in a perfect military salute.

“At ease General.” Navarbayevs smiled on the inside- Arjul had always been the staff officer most uptight about procedures and this greeting was no different from the norm. Even his at ease looked like a poker was up his ass... “You've said you have updates?”

“Yes sir.” The officer smiled as he gestured to the door, which the group walked through. “I invite you in to observe troop concentrations for yourself.”

“Hmm. Hmm......” Navarbayevs appeared deep in thought after the half-hour that had been spent explaining the status of the front to him. “So you're telling me that we're pushing through.... this city here, Da Qaidam, and that one over there, the bigger one-”

“Haiyan, sir.”

“Yes, that's it. Haiyan. What's the area behind look like?”

“Well, sir, as the reports I showed you about ten minutes ago show that Turkestan is now integrated. Once MilPol moved on, and got replaced with StateSec..... they've got a larger budget and more men. Most areas behind the front have received an.... ah, influx, shall we say, of StateSec.”

Navarbayevs knew what that meant. Military police, concerned only with movement of troops and supplies and safety and order of said troops and supplies, had been replaced by State Security operatives and teams. In addition to massive propaganda budgets, of which the departments funded by had already begun massive campaigns to sway public opinion, State Security could also employ more forceful methods to control areas. Generally, they were simply a more heavily-armed police force. But piss them off...... Navarbayevs still remembered how they had forced President-for-life Niyazov to say some of the things had had said. Remembered and very often did not want to. Now, however, his blood was up.

“Good. That'll teach those Chinese Reds to put the hell up or be shut the hell up.” Everyone around the table nodded. There had been reports of guerrilla fighting, but that was decreasing as more men and money were poured into various areas of the land pacified. “Now- the situation on projected nuclear weapons?”

A sallow-looking intelligence expert moved slightly forward to signal his expertise in the area. “We've got an agent inside command structure that reports their CO has expressed reticence towards using said weapons. He seems to believe we'll be held back and it's his view that a bunch of desert and some uppity minorities and farmers are of no great loss. He's taking the long approach- analysis suggests that he feels even if we take control, we'll face a massive counterattack whenever a unified Chinese government appears.

However, we're taking precautions in case this analysis is false. We've verified the very low numbers of nuclear weapons- two, actually. There are missiles, yes, but no warheads. Chinese HQ viewed giving control of nuclear weapons to commanders in unimportant backwater areas in a negative light. WE believe that his men actually stole the two weapons they do have from Eastern Strategic Weapon Command in some of the chaos of government change. Locations are projected on Map A-7 and I can assure you we'll know if they even contemplate launching- a great majority of their command structure feels that we can reply in more than enough quantity to destroy the whole of China and that's making them reticent.”

Navarbayevs smiled. “Good. That's rather what we're wanting them to feel like. Status of unit re-assignments?”

“Reserve units have already replaced units in all areas detailed. The veteran units are moving back to defensive positions within the UARCA proper, for some R and R, replenishment, and, of course, positioning as requested by Central Command. The pieces are falling into place.”

“Indeed General. The pieces are falling into place- and I don't think anyone's going to be an ass and try to kick them away.”

-Imperial Palace, Regent Windsor's Office (SIC) -

Regent Windsor leaned over his desk after listening to a proposal by 2 corprals from his army. They had taken the time to devise a plan for the Empire to intercede in China and use the Empire's aid as a bargining chip. If Kazakistan thought the Empire was aiding the Chinese, which it would be through arms and other supplies initially, the Empire could offer to withdraw its support in exchange for Kazakistan's pull back from Iran. It was a brilliant plan, and clearly both these men deserved promotions. But they will have to earn it..

"Interesting..." Windsor muttered alloud. The Corprals faces lit up. "Alrighty. I expect you two in China within a week.

"Sir!?"

"You heard me. Who else do you think is going to direct our aid? You two are the best men for the job."

The officers beamed. One of them suddenly frowned, his face contorted in thought.

"But how are we going to get there..."

"Excellet question. I was thinking about suggesting a merchant caravan from Russia to China.."

"Aye sir. it shall be done!"

"Good. Take 3 Reservists with you. Have your pick out of the Croatian Reserve Infantry. Im sure you know where their barracks is.."

"Aye sir!"

"Very good, carry on..."

The men turned on their heels and marched out. But when they reached the door, One of them turned around.

"Sir, excuse my bruskness, but what sort of aid are we sending?"

"Guns. Missles. Ammo. That sort of thing."

"Aye sir.."

The men left the room. Regent Windsor filled out the appropriate paper work and had a few pages ensure it got to the right locations.

Somewhere in Ningxia
“Incoming!” The screaming sound of rockets filled the air as the members of Sergeant Anatolya’s squad threw themselves once more into the dusty ground. The resounding explosions rippling across the hill behind them, accompanied by the screams of some unlucky soldiers, said that the strike had hit whatever it was aimed for. The whistling of shells moments later, moving the opposite direction, told Anatolya that the reply was quick to come. Them massive explosion lifting out of the small town ahead told her that it was also accurate.

“Damn…” she sighed, shaking her head. “They’ve gotten more accurate since this campaign started.” Accuracy which, unfortunately had not come soon enough. Antonov and a number of other men had been killed a few dozen kilometers back by their own artillery landing on them. That was an unpleasant thought.

Machine guns opening up on their general vicinity was an unpleasant sound. She groaned as she looked over at her squad- still hugging the dirt, no one making any move to even try to help out. They were veterans, she mused, as she scoped in on the gunner. And, like any veteran, they knew that she would do the work and they could continue to sit there and not tempt fate. The sharp crack of her rifle interrupted the soldier’s fire as he slumped over the window frame. Her quad smiled as they began moving forward- Anatolya had taken yet another person down.

Eastern Command, Golmud, PRC
“….and the reorganization and doctrinal changes have proven effective. Artillery in particular, though improvement has been seen across the board.” Them meeting of the commanders of the Eastern campaign was well underway at this time, and every officer had a thick dossier in front of him that was only partially paged through.

“I’m going to leave you to peruse the exact data, if you don’t mind. Gentlemen?” Nods of assent ran around the room. “Very well. Turning to Tab D, we see the updated status of fighting. I draw your attention to the movement in China and, of course, the continued advances in Mongolia.”

An officer quickly raised a finger. “We’ve all gotten status reports on the PRC- my units are already at least 40 kilometers past Lanzhou. What’s happening in Mongolia?”

The intelligence officer smiled. “Better than we’d hoped. Even with a majority of reserve units, the front has completely enveloped all of Mongolia up to Hadasan. There has been almost no resistance and even military units surrender more often than not. I take it you have all seen reports on their levels of training and equipment?”

Nods greeted this. “Elite- well, more elite than what we’re facing now- units are in Ulaanbaatar, but there aren’t many of them and I think that the current forces advancing should be more than sufficient, especially with the movement of Third Army (Mechanized) towards Buyant-Uhaa to sever the supply chain. That’s about it for Mongolia- distance has still been our primary challenge. Casualties are light enough to be almost laughable. This, however, is not.” The officer nodded his head to his subordinate, who brought forward a number of weapons, most still grimy from the field. Dumping them on the conference table, he moved around the room, quickly laying out all the weaponry. The intelligence officer smiled. “Notice anything about these weapons?”

The assorted officers took little time to come to a conclusion. “It’s not at all up to the level of the Mongolians or the Chinese,” one of the men said. “Where are these from and why are they here?”

“From? We’ve traced them, with help of some foreign experts, to the Empire of Vineyard. They smuggled them down through their ally in Russia to parts of China, at least from what we believe. These weapons aren’t all- munitions and other weaponry a bit larger has also been found.”

“What do we do?” asked a lower-ranking officer seated near the end of the table, feeling a bit hesitant about speaking up in front of all the more decorated and ranked officers.

“Do?” The intel officer gave a big grin. “We do nothing. Let the Vineyardians stew in their juices wondering if we figured out that there are weapons coming from them. We won’t do anything- but we won’t forget.”

-Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia-

Corpral Vinko adjested his Fur hat. He had long since bruned his uniform out in the desert wastes, acquiring Mongolian Clothes to blend in. Since arriving along with his Fellow Officer and Friend, Corpral Pelstas, they had been funnling in weapons of all sorts, including Anti-Aircraft weaouns, Various rocket launchers, and most importantly, standard-issue APS 95. He grinned. They had given thousands of these to the governments to use at their discression, but had insisted that the bulk of the shipment be used for their better units--and all in one battle. So the Mongolian Government had chosen to make their stand here, in their very capital. Vinko was granted a comission by the Mongolian Government, to coordinate their defences. Finally, a battle in which he could use his Command-School training. Pelstas was also given a comission, but with the Chinese government, to help conduct war against the occupying troops. He had lost contact with Pelstas a day ago, after the front over-took Pelstas position. Hopefully the Wiley Corpral was still alive, and not dead with the thousands of chinese to whom he had give weapons to. He sighed. Whatever Pelstas fate was, he hoped his would be better.

Vinko looked around, at the men. The 2 regulars they had brought with them had been divided between the Corprals. One guarding Vinko, the other guarding Pelstas. The one who remained with him was at a computer, typing a report. Outside Mongolian Soldiers milled about, preparing a defence. The Government had used up most of the army in trying to match the kazakistanis man-to-man, to create a front. But Mongolia was too big for that. What the incompetent Mongolian generals had failed to realize was that they needed to concentrate and engage another concentrated force if they wanted victory. But, alas, the last remenants of the Mongolian Army were either here, or accompanying the government into hiding. If only they had given him command sooner..

"Commander! Kazaks spotted at the outskirts!"

Vinko looked up at the Mongolian officer, who was peering through the doorway. "Prepare for battle!"

ooc: As this is not really my RP, I leave the rest of the battle, inculding the outcome, to you.

Ulaanbataar, Mongolia
Sergeant Mahmoud picked his way across pavement shattered by explosions as her squad ran behind her across the street towards the corner which a machine-gun nest had been placed. A well-aimed rocket had put an end to that hastily-constructed strongpoint, althoguh it had also gouged out a large section of what seemed to Mahmoud one of the few paved roads in all of Mongolia.

"A pity!" he half-yelled to his second in command, Nitaviv, who was directly behind him in the dash across the street. "We're blowing apart the few roads they have!"

The other man merely grunted. He was a quiet peasant from the country who, until getting called up into the reserves, merely eked out what was almost subsistence-level farming. The entire platoon- heck, the company- was resservists, though even the reservists were better trained than the opposition they had been meeting. There was, however, opposition- more than could be said about the rest of the country.

Aimen, the night before, had sworn that he had a cousin in Signals who had transmitted information from one front back to command and, according to this source, armored units were chasing a part of the army and government of Mongolia East while the prong of advance that had swung south was encountrering almost no resistance. Here, however, despite its low levels of training, the Mongolian army was standing. Not firm, but standing. The low explosion and sight of an attack helicopter swinging down into a street ahead of the squad broguht home that fact.

"Fuck!" yelled the squad's radio operator, who had gotten close to Mahmoud along hte side of the building. "Command says advance into that square up ahead to search for survivors."

"Us?!" asked Mahmoud incredulously. "We haven't even got a second squad for support!"

"They said support's coming."

The rumble of tanks affirmed that stement. A grimy and young-looking commander poked his head out of the lead T-90 that was pushing its column up the street. "We're your suport for this- I need you to command both your platoon and the one we've got behind us. They lost their officer, but the'yre fresh bodies. Better stop those fucking maniacs with rockets- I've lost two tanks to treads already, with some crew injured." Dropping back inside, the commander began moving his tank forward- slowly, so that the infantry around him could adequately support.

The entire group slowly and cautiously moved into the huge square that was the political center of the city. The burning and mangled helicopter lay near a massive statue- a man on horseback, gesturing at something. Behind that sight lay a massive government building, an impressive statue of Genghis Khan on its steps. Everyone had been briefed on this area and Sergeant Mahmoud was screaming as soon as he figured out where they were. "This is the government square! We need to get this secured!"

A rocket belied that statement, exploding on the pavement directly next to one of the tanks. "Return fire came imediately, as a chunk of one of the ornate buildings was wiped from existence. Already, even as the tanks were moving to secure the exits of the square, infantry was rushing forward and APCs were pulling up and disgorging their loads. The mongolians had not expected the rapid movemnt of the UARCA troops, and now there was a sizeable pocket growing in the center of their line- the question was if it could hold against the counterattack that was sure to come.

A harried colonel studying a grimy map of the city quickly came to a conclusion- that area needed to be held because doing so would doom the resistance within the city. Troops began flooding forward to help, racing against the Mongolians who would try to pinch off the growing bubble in their lines.

Eastern Command, Golmud, PRC
A more highly-ranked general came to the same conclusion as he studied his map. "That position falls and we've ot Ulaanbaatar," he remarked to his colleague, who was in charge of the southern portion of the campaign . "We've got the rail linkage secured, we've got forces around the city, we've got spearheads chasing what remains of their government- but the fighting could continue for a while if that pocket is destroyed."

The other man nodded, turning from his troop deployments. "We've contained almost all resistance and I'm sure that we can start shuttling troops north quite soon. The front has almost entirely collapsed and troops are streaming away from fighting and, more often than not, melting back into the civilian populace. Our propaganda and real actions have convinced citizens of the area, mostly through word of mouth, that we're not planning any atrocities and improvements will be cmonig their way. As such, the PRC's conscripts are deserting in droves and those not leaving are also being killed in droves."

He smiled. "I'd say that my campaign is beginning to be wrapped up- get yours over with and we can start to talk about rebuilding. And, of course, Directive 19."

"That's going to be important. I trust you already have staff working on plans?"

"Of course. We'll be ready to move as soon as necessary. That Directive will certainly be carried through."

Office of the Premier, Tashkent, Uzbekistan
Premier Navarbayevs had been kept a bit longer than antici[ated by the representative from the Technocracy of Sharina. As he exited his office, shaking hands with and talking happily to the representative of the Technocracy, a military officer rose from the chair he had been shown to into the sumptuous waiting area.

Navarbayevs saluted as the officer came to attention. "At ease, Colonel. I trust that you have the documents?"

"Yes sir." The reply came quick, and with a binder that was handed to the Premier. Saluting again, the officer left the office by the same door the diplomat just had. Navarbayevs returned to his office, sat down and began to read the report on the state of the UARCA military that he had been expecting.


EYES-ONLY
TOP SECRET
The Federated Armed Forces of the People's Guard


REPORT ON THE STATE OF THE GUARD

I. This document is intended as the primary analysis of the status of the Armed Forces of the UARCA after the initiation of Operation: Protective Shield, Military Directive 12, and Operation: Avenging Strike (Tab C for reference to strategic goals). This document is intended to serve only as primary analysis of the Armed Forces and is not an indicator of societal status at any position within the UARCA, including areas currently under the jurisdiction of the Federated Armed Forces.

II. With Primary Engagements completed, Military Command has enacted a number of organizational reforms that have now come fully into being. The expected efficiency results can be viewed in Tab F. Summary suggests a manifest increase in efficiency, especially at the medium-unit and Operational scales.

III. Battlefield readiness has been verified in all units called up for conflict. Increased ability has been shown to have narrowed between reserve and active-duty units (See Tab A), although veteran units are over 35% more effective than reserve units (See Tab B) in certain situations.

IV. Distribution of new military equipment is now over 85% complete. Manufacturing continues, but data suggests that production may be eased within the next six months as almost all units receive new equipment. Older equipment to be moved into reserves, though a large portion has been destroyed in conflicts up to this time (See Tab D for complete casualty reports).

V. Casualty reports suggest the following number of units have been destroyed or brought below operational effectiveness:

5 Armored Divisions (2 Reserve)
9 Motor Rifle Divisions (5 Reserve)
6 Infantry Divisions(5 Reserve)

Unit casualties were especially high in certain areas of Iran and China (See Tab E), with over 75% of all casualties coming in those two areas. Statistics suggest a total loss of over 95,000 men, with about 27,000 of those KIA, 4,000 MIA, and the remainder (64,000) WIA.

VI. Replacement of units has already been undertaken, with a number of second-line units receiving additional training. Armed Forces expected to recoup all losses (and possibly grow) within 8 Months of Report(See Tab G). Grade 1 Units and Districts will not be affected, with slight reorganization resulting because of the unit dip.

Golmud, Western China
"Aten-shun!"

The parade line of men whipped into formation, standing at perfect attention as Premier Navarbayevs and some key aides walked along the rows of men. General Niyazov, Minister of Defense, crisply saluted as the leader of the UARCA approached him and his staff.

"Premier, I trust you had a pleasant flight?"

Embracing his longtime friend, Tamur Navarbayevs smiled as he replied and began to walk along the rows of men with the commanding officer of the Armed Forces of the UARCA. "It was fine- went a bit fast, really. Now, I've been briefed en-route, but I'd like to know the overall status as of right now within areas under military jurisdiction."

"I assumed you would. That news is nothing but good." Stopping momentarily, the General made a minute adjustment to a soldier's lapel before moving on again with the Premier. "In Western China, we have now gained almost total control. The cities and highways are entirely ours, and even the most rural areas are being cleaned out of any resistance. State Security is all that's needed now- I would feel safe walking down any street in this region."

He laughed as they continued. "The same in Mongolia, for that matter. After we cleaned out Ulaan-Bataar, we didn't encounter hardly anything. The government has been partially captured- we have their President and Minister of State, though the rest of the government got away. It doesn't really matter though- opinion polls show only urbanites concerned at all, with their opinion being swayed. Propaganda is really helping here- you wouldn't believe how popular references to Khan have been."

Navarbayevs could only smile at that. Certain enthusiastic propagandists were comparing him favorably to a number of illustrious Central Asians- Tamerlane, Genghis Khan, and some regional heros. Not that he had any illusions of riding down men on horseback- the classical images, however, were gold standards to the propaganda department in trying to get populations to accept their new rule.

"Iran, though we still have certain problems, is controllable. I still suggest htat we move on to Tehran-"

"No. We only need a defensible buffer and I will not give the Red Sea Alliance a broken promise- I said we would only take as much land as was needed. We will govern, not conquer."

Niyazov nodded. "And governing we are. The fanatics are being hunted down- thnk goodness we are a predominately Muslim nation, as I think the fanatics would have been twice as determined to stop us should we have been something not of their denomination. In that earleir note about governing, I suggest we hold some trials for a number of Sistani officers we captured and some of President-for-Life Niyazov's government, as well as that odious man. It's time that they be tried before the world."

Navarbayevs agreed with that, as the men came to the armored vehicels standing ready to be inspected. "General, I trust that we're on the downhill now. A question- have your men gotten the equipment we've been producing? The factories in both the UARCA and India have been working overtime to produce the IFVs and tanks required."

"Yes sir. In addition, civil engineers ahve begun moving up to ispect the roadbeds and other areas of commerce. We're bringing these areas into the UARCA and the military stands ready to defend them."

The Premier smiled at that. "Good. I would hope we don't need defending, but in these turbulent times..... remain ready. Directive 19 may be needed at any time."