NationStates Jolt Archive

San-Nereiana

Tanks roared in the distance as the training exercise began. The scale was truly astonishing – sixteen tank divisions were out in the field in just this particular bit of desert.

The reason that the Allaneans had originally purchased this – almost completely barren – piece of desert terrain from the Californians was that it was perfect tanking ground – and now, almost 55% of the state's territory was composed of Army test ranges, bases for five hundred armored divisions, and training grounds for various units.

And now was the time of year for Operation Glorious Sunrise. It wasn't really one operation – it was more like a chain of simultaneous field exercises, set up for various units simultaneously for ease of administration.

In total, six hundred armored divisions, two hundred infantry divisions, and two million Boy Scouts and Girl scouts were in San Nereiana for various training. Most of those were units already permanently stationed here, but 150 divisions were shipped in for the exercise from places like Allanean England and the Cloyster Coast, which lacked sufficient space for such exercises – and the Boy Scouts were local, of course. San Nereiana did, after all, have a civilian population. Additionally, CSS and NATO troops that needed cross-training were also invited to the area.

This sort of thing was why the state existed, after all – that, and ACIA, of course, took heed of the strange activity on the other side of the border.

Ground Forces Training Center 45-b, San-Nereiana

"Recruits! TEN-HUT!" – Major Wilhelm von Stossel bellowed as he marched past the long line of men – boys, even, none older than 18 – dressed in camouflaged uniforms, carrying the heavy DR-83MA assault rifles. The desert sun glinted on their bayonets, and on the freshly-shined shoes they wore. – "Good morning, Recruits!"

"Good Morning, Major Stossel, SIR!"

"Do you know why you're not told to wear powered armor today?"

"Sir, no, Sir!" – barked the line.

"Well, today, in our part of Operation Glorious Sunrise, we will simulate behind-the-lines operation in enemy territory. As you know, as you are being tested for service in the Fieldmarshal's Own Assault Batallion, training for long-term operations without support will be an essential part of your service – should you complete the testing, that is."

"And today, we do just that. Train you for behind-enemy-lines insertion."

Stossel turned to a large map, mounted on a large tripod stand, it's legs buried in the hot San-Nereiana sand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will insert by helicopter HERE. This will simulate insertion in the territory of the probable opponent. We will then go on a two-day forced march through Type S terrain– that's Sandy for those of you who didn't memorize terrain classification – for sixty kilometers, or in other words, three hundred furlongs. We will then engage in Simunition-based simulated combat with OPFOR Sigma, represented by the Fifth Airborne. They will outnumber us two-to-one."

"Those of you who fail to complete the forced march for any reason barring an act of God, and I mean GOD PERSONALLY INTERVENING AND STEPPING ON YOUR MISERABLE BALLS, will not be accepted to the Fieldmarshal's Own Assault Batallion, and will be diverted to service in other unit. IS THAT CLEAR, RECRUITS?"

Ground Forces Training Center 64a, San-Nereiana

"Boy Scouts!" – Scoutmaster Anatoly Neiman shouted. Before him, there was a seemingly endless row of boys, their broad Stetson hats concealing their eyes in deep shadow, their rifles' stocks resting on the sand.

"Yes, SIR!" – the Batallion replied.

"Today has been ranked by the Army Meteorological Service as Grade B hot. Drink your water. Do not consume MDMA or any dehydrating drugs off-duty. Perform all orders of your Health Officer. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Very good, Scouts. Now, let me ask you some questions. Do you know what Communists are?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir!"

"I expected this. Tell me…" – he pointed at one of the Scouts – "Tell me, Fisher, what does your father do?"

"He owns a small brothel in Liberty-City, Sir."

"Very good. And you, Nikolski? You're a Christian, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And you, Kowal? I hear your Dad has a band."

"A jazz band, Sir."

"Very well. And do you know what would happen if Communists came to Allanea? They would destroy Fisher's Dad's business, and they would execute Nikolski's pastor, and in most of these countries, they would not even allow Kowal's Dad to play jazz. So people… what would you do if the dirty scumbag communists came into your country and tried to take your family's property, and destroy your freedom, and put your loved ones in prison?"

The Boy Scouts had rehearsed the answer for this one well.

"Sir, kill them, Sir!"

"And how would you kill the communist invaders?"

"With our rifles, Sir!"

"And what if you ran out of ammo?"

The battalion roared the reply.

"STAB THEM WITH THE BAYONET, SMASH THEM WITH THE STOCK!"

"Good." – the Scoutmaster smiled benevolently. – "I think it's time for some bayonet practice, Scouts. We still have some time before our part of Operation Glorious Sunrise properly begins."

Ground Forces Training Center 32o, San-Nereiana

The SoulHarvester UCAVs were rarely ever used in live exercises – there was no real need, and their operators trained in simulations most of the time. But today, the Allaneans wanted to demonstrate to those of their friends and allies that were watching – and there likely would be many enemies watching, too – the sheer power of the Allanean armored division and it's supporting UCAV forces.

And so it happened. Over the horizon they came – yellowish machines, colored in desert camouflage for San-Nereiana deployment. They carried their full weapons payload, and before them lay their targets – dozens and hundreds of mock-up tanks, bunkers, and even cardboard cut-outs of infantry troops.

Back in the command center, warnings flashed red on screens.

TARGET ACQUIRED AND ENGAGED.

The SoulHarvesters were in full-autonomy mode – they did not ask for confirmation. From their bomb pilons, dozens of cluster bombs dropped down, opening like flowers in mid-air.

The sand seemed to boil around the mock-up targets, as their cardboard and wooden bodies caught fire and fell apart easily. Simultaneously – the UCAV is a multi-tasking beast – the automatic cannon swept across the battlefield, short bursts of steel-cored training ammo knocking targets down with ease. Had it been real, full-on ammunition, nothing would have been left.

But this was not the key thing that these machines did. The key thing was that every bit of data, every image taken by their sensors was translated into targeting data, and transmitted home via FireTux.

And then artillery could home in on it, and it did.

Suddenly, the entire area of desert was enveloped in flame – MRLS launchers, cannon, 120mm mortars smote the concentration of targets with their full wrath.

By the time it was over – two minutes later – only 10% of the training targets were unharmed. Of course, the Allaneans did not expect to do this well on stuff that had actual defenses – but the point of this exercise was not to test one's weapons. It was to check the Marksmen and Lieutenants and Majors had their doctrine straight. Testing weapons and training would be for the next step of the exercise – the OPFOR training

Right now, the doctrine demanded an armored advance.

And so the tanks came, in a triple-line formation – Samsons, Nakil 1A3s, and lighter supporting vehicles, driving through the charred remains with exactly the ease you would expect from people engaging cardboard targets.

Not everybody had it that easy though.

Ground Forces Training Center 2f, San-Nereiana

"Go, go, go!"

The two rows of armored vehicles approached each other at full speed, engines roaring, smoke dispensers mixing dark smoke with the yellow clouds of sand as they charged through the desert.

Distance to target = 20 kilometers

Sergeant Fred Johnson swore. The armor on his 1A3 seemed useless and flimsy – for he knew that, miles away, the Samson tanks raised their enormous turrets and fired.

And indeed, ten seconds later, the simulation computer that interlinked their tanks' weapons delivered the verdict. Dozens of Nakils stopped in their tracks. They were 'disabled' and could no longer participate in the exercise.

But at least it's not me.

And now the enemy tanks were at ten kilometers. Johnson chose a target on his main screen and pushed the fire button. Even now, the computer was calculating the path of his virtual barrel-launched ATGM. Here it was, approaching the turret of the enemy Nakil at its amazing, supersonic speed… and…

FAILURE TO ENGAGE TARGET.
ROUND HAS BEEN INTERCEPTED.

This was going to be a long day…

San Nereiana Operations Command

"Very well. Everything seems to be going normally." – said Al-Ghazi, paging through his reports. "I want you to prepare everything for any NATO or CSS or otherwise allied troops that will be arriving. Good food, good accommodation, everything that they might need. We must be good hosts. And send them the copy of our ACIA report. I'm worried about that shit on the other side of the border – this exercise may be routine, but I don't want the Doomscum to fuck it up for us by some provocation or another."

President Nadia Sklenova was an avowed communist. She was, as such, no fan of Allanea - one of her campaign promises had been to "remove our ties with... a nation that allies with the Doomani." After Allanea had pulled out of Kahanistan during the Havenic War, popular opinion turned against them. However, with their withdrawal from ACID as part of the debacle over the planned murder of General Marcellus Valens, popular opinion of Allanea and President Kazansky improved dramatically.

Sklenova was still not particularly happy about military exercises (or continuing an alliance) with a nation whose leader often bragged about killing Communists. The idea of possible cooperation with General Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi, who had defected to Allanea and abandoned Kahanistan, made her sick. However, she did not have dictatorial powers, despite the rantings of the Anti-Catholic Party. The Minister of Defence and the Nationalist-controlled Senate (which would no sooner abandon its alliance with Allanea than form one with Doomingsland) approved a measure to allow an entire army group (eight divisions, or 200,000 soldiers) from Kahanistan to train with the Allaneans.

As such, Army Group Epsilon shipped out to Allanea aboard merchant ships the government had contracted. (The Republic Navy lacked logistical support vessels or anything that could be used to transport large amounts of troops. It didn't need any kind of power projection; warships generally stayed close enough to replenish at base.) The group was commanded by Marshal Leon Kostanov, the Chief of Staff of the Army himself. He sent a transmission to Kazansky.

"Fieldmarshal, we request to join in the training. I have two hundred thousand soldiers to join."

OOC: Into MSN, friend Kahanistan.

OOC: Will edit later, having trouble posting. Will add character and flavor later.
Early On Monday Morning
Marsh, Holy Marsh

Priest-General Paulus looked at a small stack of documents. There was the tourism that poured into the country, which meant that the Home Guard was working harder than they had in twenty years to make sure that crime is low. The construction of the Hitlion Mountain defensive line went extremely well, the mountain range slowly becoming one large fortification. Air defenses and ground defenses were maximised; any assault on the line would assuredly suffer massive losses. Internally, the construction of many bases for the air force and army had started in the last fiscal year and went along rather well.
The focus in the schools had shifted. They had always taught basic firearms and tactics, but with the Church's warning, they became the focus of education in the nation. In the short-term, this would improve the defensive capability of large cities by increasing the skill of the fourteen-eighteen militia in the cities. In the long-term, this meant that when these kids entered basic training at eighteen to fulfill their two year obligation, they would need to spend no time when it came to weapon maintenance and use.
Equipment wise, the nation was being flooded with goods from all corners of the globe. The HAT-1 Sparky was a good tank that had served well in the open, arid land of the north, but Nakil 1A3HAs were on their way to the nation to provide more punch. An assorted collection of helicopters from Aequatio were to be in use by the armed forces to improve the firepower and effectiveness of the military in large engagements. So many more weapons were flooding the nation, turning it into a extremely well armed fortress country.
So, when presented with a chance to send troops to a joint military exercise with some allies, Paulus refused it. The Vile Lard was coming soon said the Church, and they needed to confront him head-on. However, he was constantly pestered by requests for forces and eventually decided to send someone.
"Send them some STT teams."
************************
To understand STT teams and their effectiveness, one must udnerstand the Holy Warriors. And to understand the Holy Warriors, one must understand the Army. And to understand the Army, one must understand Marsh society.

As a society, the Holy Marsh is driven in one direction and towards one goal: Destruction of the Vile Lard. From an early age, children are told that this is their reason for existence. War becomes an inevitability, and a Marsh six-year old's view on war sounds like much like a pessimists viewpoint on the world. Once they enter school, they are prepared for the cause. Eight hours a day for average students and ten hours a day for private schools, six days a week, twelve months a year. Physical and mental prowess become the driving force between the children's desires. Once they enter high school, they are taught basic firearms and tactics in school. As a child's physical abilities and mental prowess show themselves and are sharpened, the best and brightest are advanced to higher tiers of education, and the competetion for these schools is fierce as only one in three hundred worthy applicants are accepted.

Once they turn eighteen and join the army, all are able to maintain, clean, and use basic military firearms. Their physical well-being has been assured by the rigors of their society, eliminating the need for large amounts of physical training and only needing small amounts to maintain physical abilities. These things eliminate much of the basic training needs, freeing up training to be more advanced in nature. Twelve hours a day, seven days a week, twelve months a year they train. Basic infrantyman spend eight months increasing their personal skills in all facets of warfare pertaining to their craft. The next eight months is spent applying the lessons of the classrooms in basic training and school, as well as advancing the tactics to incredible heights. The last eight months is then spent perfecting skills, tactics, and knowledge until they finish their two-year training requirement. By the time a soldier leaves training, he is the equal of elite soldiers of most nations in terms of training.

Among many other options, some apply to join the Holy Warriors. Most fail. Training is insanely difficult and not known outside the organization. In any case, those who pass into the organization join a family that they will never leave. Joining them is a one-way ticket; there is no resigning and no reassigment. Even after being accepted, each day is spent training in the arts of war. There is never an end to it. Prayer and training becomes the entirety of a Holy Warrior life. There are other ways of joining. Those who do well in battle may be offered a chance to join the organization, and those born to a Holy Warrior parent undergo training that makes these soldiers the best soldiers that the nation can produce.

In fact, the Special Tactics Teams(STT) have many of these Pure Warriors. STTs are platoon-sized special forces groups. There are eight of these platoons per Holy Warrior division(15,000 men). They undertake a variety of missions, best described as anything possible. In smaller groups, they undertake your obvious special forces missions. In larger groups, they are used as shock troops that are often key to battle plans.
******
The nation had decided that sending fifteen STT teams to the exercise would prove a good way to get training until the Vile Lard attacked. They were on their way there mere hours after the decision was made.

When the Marshal received authorisation, he proceeded to land Army Group Epsilon on Allanean shores, intent on training the eight divisions (three infantry, three artillery, two armoured) in the fine art of war with the aid of the Allaneans.

Five thousand Merkava IV main battle tanks, two thousand BM-30 Smerches, three thousand 155mm PzH2000 SPG's came in, as well as 2,000 50mm rifled ETC AA guns and 3,000 numerous SAM launchers with the veteran Kahanistanian AIM-77 King Cobra which had seen action in the Second Doomani War. A total of two hundred thousand troops joined the Allaneans in the expectation of being trained in war. Marshal Kostanov himself commanded them, as he was one of the few surviving veteran generals with decent command ability.

The air force deployed 500 Su-30 MKI's, 50 Tu-160 bombers, eight E-2 Hawkeyes, and two E-10 AWACS planes for C&C. They relied on the Allaneans for logistics; these were mainly combat troops. Logistical units didn't need training, combat troops did.

The infantry on the field, all of them Mobile Infantry of Sigma Octavus, the foundation of the Sigman war machine, were actually happy to be in a foreign land for the first time in recent history. Long ago, their fathers had attacked this land, suffering one of the only defeats in Sigman military history at the hands of both enemies and allies, but they now represented their country in peace, here for the wargames.

It was rare they were ever deployed anywhere that matched or at least simulated their home, but this desert was perfect. It may not have the qualities of the red deserts of Sigma Octavus, but it sure beat some temperate hellhole.

General Mercy stepped off one of the landing planes, her hulking bodyguards to either side of her. She stretched and sighed, the plane had not been comfortable, trapped in the hold with the footsloggers and their dirty ways. Now she was out in the open air. Much better.

Looking around, she saw only a few hundred Sigmans milling about, their helmets dangling from their hands or tied to their packs, their black hair gleaming in the sun. They looked happy. She let herself smile a little. There were still nearly 500,000 men waiting offshore, being ferried in by air, waiting for the chance to see some new lands.

There was the chance of a conflict, but she had actually been hoping that this would be a vacation. Some fun and games with her allies.

"You men, put on those helmets! Secure that 153, it is not to be used as a foot rest!" She wandered off into the soldiers, whipping them into shape, they were to be the representatives of their nation, the first to leave it in quite some time. Time for her to have some fun setting them straight.

(OOC: This should work. Bit tired, it being 4:28 am, so my rating is down a bit. Ah well. Let the fun and games begin, 'ol chum.)

Allanea and Derscon have been allies for some time, so it was only natural the Dersconi Imperial Armed Forces owned land there -- and stationed what amounted to two Grand Armies and two Grand Fleets. However, they were promised virtually no work in Allanea other than the usual exercises, so other troops were being sent in, but that number hadn't been disclosed for whatever reason.

All of the unloading was done at various Allanean and Dersconi military bases. On the registration, it showed that large amounts of cargo were being delivered, a reason given as some sort of charity drive by the Dersconi Red Cross. No one ever looked in the cargo containers.

Marshal Korszhi Valdenskov was happy to be out of the cold lands of the Dersconi north, back in his home of Allanea. He was naturalized when he was 15, when his parents came over from Allanea. He always had a special place in his heart for it.

San-Nereiana

The exercise continued to rise in scale and size, even as the Allaneans ratcheted up their alarm status. The Confederate Joint Armed Forces were now being brought in – officially, for small-scale leg infantry training. Just like Pime Taradox's three million troops were brought in for minor exercises in Cotland, so did the CJAF's two million light infantry deploy in San Nereiana.

For the Allanean fleet of enormous, nuclear-powered Ouroboros-D aircraft, it was easy to transfer the men. After all, a Confederate Light Infantryman did not carry many heavy weapons – there were no tanks, no IFVs, only man with rifles, machine guns, and ATGMs. A properly equipped Ouroboros could haul 50,000 of them in a single flight, if they didn't intend doing any parachute jumps

Once they arrived in Western San-Nereiana, they would, as advertised, start on rigorous training exercises – large-scale maneuvers, trench-digging near the lines of existing border fortifications, and, of course, rifle marksmanship.

Because Allanea doesn't do field exercises without marksmanship training, that's why.

The Cloyster Coast

Something was afoot. It was obvious from the giant APOC deployments. Millions upon millions of troops were being deployed a mere five thousand furlongs from the Allanean border, and somehow the Allanean Central Intelligence Agency refused to believe that this was a mere 'minor exercise' as Cotland's government stated – possibly because Cotland just carried out a biological attack on an ally of the United States, or maybe just because of the insane arrays of troops arrayed suddenly in Cotland.

And so, Cloyster Coast Military Camp was put on alert. A double detachment of B-22 bombers was kept ready, and Khans were being pulled out of dry storage. Navy teams inspected off-shore 'Khan can' platforms. Giant ammunition stockpiles were being opened.

Everything, of course, just in case.

0550 Hours office of the president, Union City:
“Mr. President” Yelled out a portly secretary, she was dawning a white flowered blouse, a star like hat and white gloves.

President Miller Peered over his well polished desk over to his secretary and said with a coarse deep voice as he was idly typing an E web letter to allanea and allies.
“Yes Delores?”

She responded with a smile and a rather cheerful voice. “Sir General carvel at AFDC, has reported ready for forces to embark..”
“Good” Miller responded continuing to type his letter up his brown eyes looking at the LCD screen in front of him.

Portland City Adriatic sea cost, The glimmering structures of progress loomed over head, only dwarfed by the snow capped mountains in the distance, the city was struck with sun light, from the rising sun over the vast expanse of sea, sky scrapers priced the sparsely, clouded sky with their steel, and glass forms, various different styles clustered around what seem to be the port and down town.

Automated highways and roads running along the coast line of the city, right bellow large mega hotels, and glass complexes of industry and commerce, were filled with seemingly thousands of military vehicles , Thousands of tanks in formation rolling on to massive military container ships , that loomed over the smaller liners and rich yachts that sailed around the bay. It seemed to be chaos, but an orderly chaos, thousands of pieces of equipment, troops and munitions, were being loaded in to the large looming grey ships, only dwarfed by the massive leviathan BBGM’s, and Nexus CVN’s.

The 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th fleets were all clustered on each side, and in the massive bay of Portland city, Hundreds of ships, along with hundreds of military transports, subs and aircraft placed upon the super carriers moved in formation the sea around them becoming a bright blue color as the sun rose in to the sky.

Providence air base, outside another booming cornucopia of commerce, where the massive neo Spanish, and post modern metro looking sky scrapers buildings and housing ended, was a large seemingly endless square of asphalt and concrete, surrounded by glass and steel hangers, concrete buildings, and metal bunkers. Massive C-140 Transport craft lined the tarmac, lines of thousands upon thousands of troops from each side began pouring in to the massive doors behind, and some were eve tanking on armored units and newly designed Net fires launcher IFV’s , UGAV equipped with chin guns and missiles, it seemed not only that a full scale military deployment was going on but also a full scale defense deployment.


Providence air base was also preparing B-1B, B-52 and B-3B bombers for deployment at Allaneain air fields. Jet engines roared out echoing through the forested and hilly providence valley , their forms shimmered as they took off at high speeds in to the sky trails of smoke pushing behind their hot engines as they life off, numerous air bases also deployed enhanced F-15F’s F-7 Reapers, F-19 Vampire fighter bombers, and F-18D These deployments were not just limited to combat craft, transports, and tankers were deployed as well. Air born laser systems made their moves as well behind the bombers, transports and craft , this would increase missile and anti fighter defense, especially for long ranges.

The straits of Gibraltar, specifically the island of Malta, was going to be built up in accordance with plan alpha defense, thousands of cargo ship arrived at the new Malta city port, a newly constructed building town on the east coast of Malta, cargo ships carrying thousands of cranes, building materials, the plan was to build 240 mm Nuclear artillery cannons, 155 mm twin anti naval turrets, reinforced concrete steel walls, Land to sea missile emplacements, tactical high energy laser emplacements, thousands of SAM, and two staged anti ship missile launchers . The 3rd fleet was blockading the strait, equipped with vessels that had mines as a last minute resort to close off the strait.

In all this operation had the deployment of over 900,000 troops, over 400 ships , 50,000 armored vehicles, 40,000 various artillery units self propelled , mobile missile system, countless air defense systems , several ranger squads.

Domestic industry was getting orders from the government, to build up forces, new tanks, new IFV’s you name it they started building I, even the fleet was undergoing massive expansion never before seen since World War 2…
The letter, it was done President Miller looked over his handy work and smiled he leaned back upon his chair overlooking the LCD screen, he cracked his knuckles it was one of the first letters he wrote by E-web in this new 21st century world, it took him a while to learn.

The letter read to the current Allaneain leaders :
The Democratic Federation of the Federal Union, has deploy numerous ships supplies, troops, weapons and aircraft to aid you at Serendis as requested, they will arrive within 12 hours, may god walk between us and all the empty places war brings us, it is our honor to help you.

---
4th platoon UDFA-
The sergeant marched up and down the walk way of the large craft looking at his platoon, In the midst of many others, his brown eyes priced through their souls, his stern form only enhanced by his advanced body armor and helmet, his digitized layered black grey and green, Battle uniform lined with Kevlar, ceramics and rifle plates didn’t jingle his equipment was secure on the back , his grenade belt lined with HE, Frag , phosphorus and smoke grenades.
He said with a harsh stern voice that later turned almost gentle as he stared over to his soldiers who were mainly conversing .

“Men” his words rang out and they snapped looking up at him “ I know this is the first deployment for many of you to a foreign land, to defend foreign people, but remember our countries values of freedom and peace, and we are ultimately defending ourselves by curbing such imperialistic moves in to allies of ours, remember we must fight, if not win give them one hell of a beating when we go down..”
The mean smiled a bit, started to applaud as the sergeant stood in the craft, it started to shake as it went through some storm clouds, it was a few hours in to the trip now.

The men were talking
“Well, the sarge right you know..” Said one solider another responded quickly..
“Yeah man, but you know I hope we get back within a month I’m supposed to be getting married, and my girl has twins on the way”

The solider he was speaking to responded to that saying with a laugh, “you’re a lucky man I don’t have a girl yet, I was supposed to go on a date with her tonight, but you know how that worked out”
Men laughed, Sergeant Sheppard looked on, because of his name he was called the Sheppard of his sheep, and he smiled a bit at that every time he thought of it… It was time for him to protect his flock, he knew some weren’t going to come home if this exploded, this was a major deployment, and it might inflate things in the region they were going to … but there was a reason for this.. A reason for all of it, he knew that victory ere would mean the difference between fighting on his own soil or not…

The President stood looking out of his large window, his office ornately decorated with blue and white, with the symbols of the UDFFU, he peered out to the massive metropolis that was Union city, 12 million people, thousands upon thousands of metal, glass skyscrapers piercing the sky, hundreds and even thousands of stories high , they glimmered as the sun rose from the valley, the snow capped mountains lit with blue, the buildings themselves reflecting the warm subtle light over their massive forms, Union city was one of the largest cities in the Union, the center of financial, cultural , and industrial capacity, automated highways, roads, monorails, underground mag tubes crisscrossed the massive city …

Miller sighed again he looked over to a picture of him and his wife, and his two kids he smiled and chuckled to himself as he walked over to pick them up adjusting his well pressed suit, his eyes pierced the glass looking in to it he said to himself.. “l’ll be home soon… hopefully soon..”

Official Statement

The Realm is concerned with the unannounced and greatly increased Allanean military activity near our borders, and would appreciate a clarification as to the extraordinary actions being undertaken by Allanea. Had we not enjoyed so good relations with Allanea, we may have mistaken it for war preperations. However, in order to ensure our own national safety and security, the Realm has increased its military readyness level to BERSTAT-3 and will be watching this situation closely. From now and until the conclusion of this exercise, if indeed that is what it is, the Realm shall match the Allanean readiness level until it returns to normal levels.

[signed]
The Realm of Cotland

***********

Shortly thereafter, Allanean intelligence-gathering satellites would pick up an increase of encrypted comms chatter. A few hours after the borders between Allanea and Cotland were closed, the Royal Cottish Army began deploying from their main bases and into the field. The Royal Cottish Navy increased its maritime patrols, with Naval Aviation bombers and maritime patrol aircraft starting around the clock patrols and Cottish intelligence-gathering aircraft starting to snooping around in international waters near the Allanean border, gathering information about among others Allanean fleet movements.

The Air Force also increased their readiness, with fighters flying intensified barrier combat air patrols (BARCAPs) and bombers being prepared. Many aircraft also prepared to deploy to their secondary Aerodromes, small concealed airstrips that could support up to one fighter regiment each, but they didn't deploy just yet. They'd wait and see what was going on.

Along the coast, the Coastal Defense Divisions increased their readiness, and along the Cottish-Allanean border, most of the many highly advanced RADAR sites that provided data for the CADN (Cottish Air Defense Network) increased the amount of energy they pumped into the airspace, picking up aerial contacts up to thousands of kilometers away and passing them along via encrypted datalink and buried fibreoptic cables to the air defense sites, whose RADARs remained turned off. There was no need alerting the Allaneans to exactly where they were.

Up in space, several Cottish reconnaissance satellites changed orbit somewhat so that they could survey what was happening in San Neraina while still remaining over Cotland, meaning that the Allaneans couldn't use that as an excuse to shoot them down or otherwise disable them without provoking a war. Each of the reconnaissance satellites had an escort in the form of an Anti-Satellite Satellite (ASS), for preventing any foreign ASS to take out the protected satellite. More constellations of ASS' were up in space, and several more sat in stand-by storage at Varde Space Center on a 36-hour, ready to be launched into space to supplement and/or replace the ASS' already in space.

The message to the Allaneans and indeed anyone else watching was extremely clear: Cotland was willing and prepared to defend itself against any foreign aggression, and that it was best not to go down that path.

And another page was flipped…

Would it be for worse? Better? Ada had no way of knowing what the future reserved for her people and those of the nation she had just visited. Only time was to tell if her efforts would pay off and benefits were to flow from this endeavour or not, only time and she had plenty of it.

With the journey back to the Aequatian base, Ada prepared to board once more on the Ikarus, the carrier having patiently waited for her return. Back on the PNF ship, the SiC plotted the next step in her journey having checked the latest information provided to her by the officers on-board and finding new orders waiting for her.

The Ikarus was to sail west, towards the other side of the region where it would join a series of military exercises performed by various NATO member states, hosted by the state of Allanea. Information regarding the reason for these exercises was sparse, but this was perceived by High Command as a chance to foster relations with the hosting country and with the other participant nations. Given the multinational nature of the exercise it would pay to participate and have connections formed between Aleos and the other countries.

It was true that the group at her disposal was relatively small, just a handful of ships that represented her escort and the obligatory Guard Company, but it was enough to reaffirm to the nations already participating to the exercise that the Peacekeepers were there.

To: Allanea
From: Holy Marsh

We regret to inform you that the STT teams en route to your country for war games have been rerouted to a friendly nation in order to prepare for any ground missions if they needed in the search for Nathaniel Eschex. We apologize.

Official Response From the United States Departments of State and Defense:

We in the United States would like to repeat our previous statements. Generally speaking, the state of San-Nereiana is replete with various tanking grounds, army bases, etc. 500 Tank divisions and 100 mechanized infantry divisions are based there even in the most peaceful times. But when annual military exercises are conducted there, troops from all over Allanea and abroad come there for training – which contributed, in part, to the commotion.

That said, we in the United States admit that our armed forces are currently on a heightened state of alert, due to the large-scale movement of APOC forces, and especially Doomani and Zukariaan forces, in the immediate vicinity of San-Nereiana. When slavery-endorsing states wave their steel appendages about in our general geographical area with such vigor, you can hardly blame Allanea for remaining cautious.

We remain the true and sincere friends of the Realm of Cotland, and will not carry out any attacks against the Realm, its territory, citizens, or assets, except in the highly unlikely event of aggression on the Realm's part. Naturally, such aggression can only result in your prompt, and inevitable, military defeat.

Yours Sincerely,
The Allaneans

“Sucks to be them,” Sergeant First Class Thomas Biggs said to his platoon mates as they watched Sigman troops get hounded by General Mercy. Biggs was a member of Emery Platoon, 22nd SOF-D, one of three SOF-D platoons to participate in Operation: Glorious Sunrise. The other two platoons, Fray Platoon and Mae Platoon remained within the Sniper Country Staging Area. Emery Platoon, on the other hand, was wandering the landscape, now observing the Sigman Staging Area.

If it seemed as though other nations brought many times the troops that the Sniper Country Armed Forces brought, it would be overwhelmingly correct. The SCAF dedicated, along with the three SOF-D platoons, the 2nd Infantry Division (7,796), the 12th Infantry Division (6,788), the 55th Marine Division (3,991), the 104th Marine Division (5,004), and the 198th Infantry Division (7,666), totaling 31,281 troops. Comparatively, the SCAF provided the manpower of perhaps half a division of other participating nations, but in terms of effectiveness, SCAF leadership liked to think they were providing their fair share.

In the SCSA, troops were being deployed to the area via CH-47G Chinooks. SCAF air traffic controllers were deployed with their AN/TSQ-198 TTCS (Tactical Terminal Control System) equipment, and were having the time of their lives working the hundreds of helicopters within the area. Thus far, the entire 2nd and 12th Infantry and 55th Marine Divisions had been deployed, and the 104th Marine was in the process of landing troops. SCAF leadership for the operation, along with four air traffic controllers and the three SOF-D platoons had arrived several days in advance, and equipment and supplies had been flowing in ever since. Troops had been arriving since midnight the night before – it was now nearly eleven in the morning. In a common move by the SCAF, only infantry was being deployed on this operation; there would be no troop carriers (aside from up armored HMMWVs, pickup trucks, and SUVs), no tanks, and no fixed wing aircraft. Helicopters would be utilized for the transportation of troops, albeit no attack helicopters would be involved.

“Hook Five Six, depart the airspace to the east, climb and maintain one zero thousand before overflying Sigman airspace, thanks for the drop,” Sergeant Second Class Gregg Harper said as he took a drink of water. He was one of four controllers working around the clock to ensure the safe and immediate arrival of SCAF troops and equipment to the SCSA.

“I don’t know, it doesn’t look that hard,” Master Sergeant Norman Smiley said to his partner, First Sergeant David Landrum. “I’m sure you gotta remember a lot of stuff, but I could do it.” Landrum laughed and took a swig from his HYDRA pack. The two were members of Fray Platoon, who were currently guarding the SCAF controllers. The controllers had remoted the TTCS to a nearby pickup truck, which was easier to work out of. Smiley (http://tropaselite.t35.com/us_Army_special_forces_afeg_SF_Cowboy.jpg) was the clown of Fray Platoon, helping keep his platoon mates’ sanity during such horrid missions as their current one. Contrary to many participating nations, there seemed to be no boys within the SCAF. Each man looked as though he were in his mid to late twenties or thirties. Nearly all wore baseball caps and had overgrown beards, paid no semblance to other military standards and disregarded traditional customs and regulations. But this was the way of the SCAF.

SCAF leadership at FOB Danger knew what was going on, but declined to inform any of the troops. They waited for a meeting with Allanean commanders, and that meeting looked to be several days, if not weeks, away. Otherwise, the troops would arrive, settle in, and await further moving orders. With over thirty thousand troops arriving on foreign soil, this was the largest SCAF deployment since the Omzian War nearly twenty years prior. There were few fighting troops in the SCAF now that fought in the Omzian War, but many in the leadership had been around and fought those many years ago. Surely the SCAF couldn’t fight an entire war with its seemingly measly thirty thousand men, but they were not here to fight a war. The SCAF operated differently than many other militaries, in the fact that they were not a mass army of conventional troops. On the contrary, they were a large mass of individual units, often assigned to other national commanders or units, and operated almost totally independently of one another.

For now, however, the men arrived and deployed to various positions within the SCSA, waiting.

[I know it's not great, but I'm squeezing this in.]

- ”What do you need? Besides a miracle.”
-”Guns. Lots of guns.”
~~'The Matrix'

If an illegal immigrant trying to make his way from Cotland to San-Nereiana, there would be only a few routes that you could take – several high-capacity highways and perhaps two or three train connections going into the subcontinental area. Even the Allanean freight trains would get routinely inspected as they passed back in through the border – not because they were suspected of carrying illegal goods (practically nothing is illegal in Allanea), but because illegals might stow away aboard.

There would, of course, be an alternative – but for this, you would have to pass through the standard Allanean border defense systems – the same as the Allanean systems on the Azahan border – and in fact, most Allanean land borders, these days.

The first would be a five-kilometer strip, an Exclusion Zone. It would be fraught with various types of landmines – PMN-series anti-personnel mines, Broadsword area-effect mines, “Bouncing Betty” mines and even bear traps. For every square kilometer of landmines, 100,000 PFM-1 bomblets were sown in the area, undetectable by conventional metal detectors.

The anti-armor mines were almost as varied – three million ATG-44 mines were spread across the area, as well as a variety of extended-range anti-armor landmines anti-helicopter mines. Automated gun turrets were spread at distances of 500 meters from each other, each armed with a four-pack of ATGMs, a 20mm autocannon, and a coaxial .308. It was the .30 and autocannon that most common found use – again, on illegal immigrants and stray dogs.

The areas in direct proximity to the roads and rail had been made deliberately unpassable by the use of Warsaw Hedgehogs and dragon's teeth.

But let us come back to our hypothetical Cotlandi illegal.

Had he had a car, and had he miraculously survived his first five kilometers of Allanea, he'd then have to abandon his car – having run into an anti-tank ditch. The lips and bottom of the ditch were, obviously, heavily mined.

After that, there would be two more kilometers of minefields – and then, finally, there would be the first Allanean defense line.

Visualize, in your mind's eyes, a system of bunkers, trenches, fortifications, with dug-outs prepared for vastly more tanks and infantry than those that defended the location on a day-to-day basis. The lines were festooned with remote-controlled weapons turrets, the personnel shelters defended with massive layers of concrete and sand – and we all know sand is one of the most awesome bullet stoppers known to man. If our potential illegal immigrant were to somehow survive his first seven klicks of Allanea, there'd be little he could do to the men in these shelters – and plenty they could do to him. They had autocannon, ADS turrets, and various other fun stuff deployed.

Completely aside from the firepower of the various tank divisions normally assigned to Allanea, there would be about two hundred triple 16-inch cannon turrets along the border – a mere fifth of the firepower arrays on the far shorter Questarian border, if that makes anyone happy. Smaller turrets, carrying mere 155mm Incinerateur autocannon, numbered about two thousand in number – again, a wimpy defense compared to what defended the Questarian border. But perfectly sufficient for plinking at illegals and stray dogs.

And then there were the second and third line of defense.

These had nothing to do with our potential illegal immigrant. They were composed mostly of empty installations and earthworks, to be taken up by troops and tanks and cannon in an emergency. But there were also constantly-manned Backflip launch facilities, undergorund ammo dumps, and of course – how could one forget? - secondary minefields separting the first, second, and third line of defense.

If there was one thing Allaneans love more than guns, explosives, and incendiaries, it was landmines.

* * *

”No, idiots! Your job is to defeat the Angels!”
~~”Neon Genesis Evangelion”, 'Both of You, Dance Like You Want to Win!”

In the Permanent Strategic Forts on the Allanean Canal, troops were being readied for battle. Carrier battle-groups were heading South through the thirty-kilometer-wide canal, their flight decks bristling with weaponry. Everything had been spit-shined, the weapons systems were all operational, and the weapons all provided with plentiful ammo.

10 Battle Groups were now heading into the Axackal Sea, and Anita Jones – named after the famous Allanean movie star, Anita Wrongbottom – was aboard one of them.

"You would think being a Navy pilot would be glorious!” - moaned Anita as she woke up. The black nose of her strike fighter was right overhead – under the recent orders of Grand-Admiral Fiuzki, the pilots had to sleep under their aircraft for ease of deployment in case of 'unprovoked and sudden attack of the likely strategic opponent'.

Naturally, Anita didn't like sleeping in a bag under the nose of a strike fighter when she had a perfectly comfortable bunk just meters away. Who likes that?

"Actually, I find that just glooooorious.” - clearly, Anita's wingman did. - “We're on real, actual combat alert. For all we know, the communists could attack any minute!” - of course, he didn't necessarily mean that actual communists were an impending danger to Allanea. The word “Communist' has long become a general derogatory in Allanean English.

"Wow, dude. You're, like, really into this stuff.” - Anita stretched. - “How long has it been since you left the Pilots' Academy? Nine weeks, right?”

"Ten weeks.” - Anita's wingman sounded genuinely offended.

"Figures.” - the older pilot chuckled.

"What figures?”

* * *
Greetings, Freemen!

This is your President speaking.

As some of you doubtlessly know, tension between Allanea and the APOC countries is at an all-time height. Two APOC embassies have been ejected from Allanea, and one of our allies – Kahanistan – has been the subject of two acts of agression by the Cotlandi. Naturally, they deny both.

Even as we speak, Zukariaan, Doomani, and other forces amass in Cotland, for what is – so far – a peaceful exercise. So far it is – merely – a show of force, an attempt to impress the Allanean nation of the might of APOC's arms. I remain unafraid – and so should you.

You should remain unafraid – but that doesn't mean you should remain unprepared. I do not, of course, implore that you should buy guns – I would not offend the listener at home by the implication that he does not yet own a firearm. You should, however, make the normal civil defense preparatios. Buy more ammo. Stock your basement or bomb shelter. If you do not have a bomb shelter, either start digging one now or know where the bomb shelter in your neighborhood is. Lobby your city council to pass bomb shelter ordnances.

Do you have a bug-out-bag? Have one ready. Have at least a gas mask, some MREs, a basic medkit and a can of ammo for every member of the family capable of carrying a weapon, and a children's gas mask for anybody too young to fight.

I know many of you are already prepared. Survivalism have always been with the Allanean people, and it has spread far and wide since the Reich War, and then the Questarian War. That is how it should be. When I travel through the country, I know many Allaneans already have safe rooms, bug-out-bags and bug-out vehicles, and some even have stocked and fortified retreats. That is how it should be in any proper country – but now, those of you already prepared have a special task – should you choose to take it up, of course. Nothing is obligatory.

You must now advise and help your neighbors who wish to prepare themselves. Help them choose the right type of stuff to have in their bug-out-bags, the right emergency generators and fuel for them, the right evacuation plans.

Speaking of evacuation, our Ouroboros aircraft complement will be on standby to help evacuate people from San-Nereiana when needed. Right now it's bringing in a few extra tons of ammo, and then it'll be ready.

That is all.

May God bless Allanea.

1300 Hours
Sheppard stood up as his massive C-140 jet cargo craft came to a stop on the long tarmac , many of the other planes had already done the same, their massive forms shimmering in the noon sun as they came to a stop. The back door of the craft flung open with a mechanical chirr, and a swoosh, Sheppard was the first out along with his company, his men grabbing their M-9 advanced battle rifles in their hands, scope attached laser sights the works.
They all looked around the tarmac expecting a force of allied people to be there, it was odd that it was so quiet as the rest of the craft landed behind them going to separate ends of the runway , Armored vehicles rolled out from behind them as well on to the concrete, their tracks clanked and chirred, the wing moving over the large empty concrete haven.

“Sergeant Sheppard !” Yelled out a well built man who had troops in formation right in front of him, Sheppard looked over carrying is M-9 with him as his gear slightly jingled, his boots tapping on the hard surface bellow, he stood strait and saluted to the obviously superior officer.

“Sire Sergeant major Adrian Sheppard reporting for duty sir!”
The captain turned over saluted back and started to speak his own voice harsh yet clam.
“Sergeant, get your men in formation right here, double time it!”
“Yes sir!” Sheppard replied with a loud booming voice, he turned over to one of his staff sergeants, starting to bark out orders.

“Staff sergeant Wilson, Get our platoon in to formation double time!”
“Yes sir” replied the burly staff sergeant barking out loudly, 4th platoon started to march in a column formation, their boots slamming down upon the ground their gear jingling, their rifles clean and unused, as they marched forward suddenly stopping at the end of another platoons formation, doing a right face in to a line formation, the sergeants rushed back in to their formations, in front of them they stood, as the captain started pacing talking with a loud booming voice of authority.

“All right men, we are in a foreign land with foreign troops of multiple nations , we don’t know what the hell is going to happen in the next few days, weeks or even hours, so once we deploy stay frosty, alert and don’t fuck up! I swear one of you fucks up and I hear it from the major I’m going to rip rank, and fucking make you eat dirt for the next fort night! Is that clear soldiers!”

“Sir Yes sir!!” screamed out the entire formation in unison, standing strait up to attention even a fly landing on their noses couldn’t make them flinch.

“Good” the captain said with a small grin coming over his face, the major was behind him, obviously pleased with how the captain was handling stuff. The Captain sighed and said with a loud commanding voice.

“Company dismissed!”

With that the respective platoons formed up on their sergeants, Sergeant Sheppard, stood strait up as he looked at 4th platoon form up around some tanks he started to speak with a grin over his face..

“You heard the captain no screwing up, you do we’re all fucked, any way our company is set to deploy on the questerian border according to our orders, along with several other companies from various units, we’ll have armor , long range, and an aviation unit backing us up. But stay frosty, our platoon will be a forward observer, the moment we see enemy contact we radio it in fall back to defensive areas and engage.”

The platoon heard the sergeant they nodded in unison, several hours passed, they poured on to APC’s and trucks, starting to move towards the border, the trucks engines roared with M3A4 Bradley’s moving behind with chirring tank tracks, the troops conversed as they moved towards the border, morale was good, but tense, everyone knew if war started here they would be tied up for months even years to come.

Armored forces moved behind in a standard line formation, their chirring crackling tracks moving along the road, this was only one company, many others were deploying as well. Over head roared the blades of AH-1Z Super cobras, the choppers moved over head swooshing with loud engine noises, followed by the roaring reverberating noise of several F-7A reapers moving at moderate altitude.

RAH-66B super Comanche’s followed in smaller number, their chopper blades not as loud as they moved a slower speeds, their sleek stealthy body’s baring almost no sigh of weapons, save for the 20 mm chain gun in front, they moved over the large formation of military forces, the pilots looked down, noticing the endless stream of tanks, armored forces, and trucks shipping troops to the border.

As 4th platoon arrived at the designated forward deployment area, troops un mounted from large trucks and from inside APC’s, they kicked up dirt as they rushed over to a half constructed base of operations that was still being built, trucks and tanks lined strategic areas, Self propelled howitzers, MLRS, and Net fires systems also lined around strategic areas, troops and engineers were ordered to dig in and put machine gun and pill box emplacements. .

Sheppard smiled as he saw 4th platoon march up a hill a few trucks of supplies and a tank behind them, he marched up from the rear standing on top of a steep hill looking down over the border, his eyes panning the windswept area, that might turn in to a war zone, he waved his hand and started to say.

“Fortify in the busy and on this side of the hill, dig trenches if you must put those MG’s p and radar stations…”

4th platoon was given access to several miniature LIDAR/Radar systems night vision and infrared to detect moving forces, UAV’s hovered over the border at high altitude, as with most deployments in unknown territory , all troops were required to wear NBC gear, the troops in 4th and the entire deployment were no different, their DIBS (Digitally integrated battle system ) helmets contained a gas mask as well as digitized HUD and integration components as well as several types of monitoring gear to test the toxicity/ radiation of the outside environment .

The allied ports were being filled with Federation troops and equipment as the rest of the forces began to deploy and, move up towards the staging area, looming cargo ships disembarking thousands of troops and tanks at a time. The naval fleet mean while moved along bordering waters, hundreds of ships silently and stealthy priced the murky depths with their low observable forms , littoral combat ships, destroyers, cruisers and battleships surrounded the massive Nexus class carriers.

The leviathan class BBGM was the most advanced ship in the Federal fleet, it was almost as large as a carrier, with a low cross-section/observable construction, containing directed missile launchers, hundreds upon hundreds of VLS tubes with two and three staged anti ship missiles, several torpedo tubes, directed two staged anti capital ship launchers, and 2, 155 mm guns. These battle ships were nuclear powered, armored with titanium and steel composites, coated with RAM equipped with ASEA, over the horizon radar, and DIBS, able to out range and out fight most modern battle ships. Sub underneath provided cover from enemy submarine action, they moved on the out skirts of the fleet, interlinking their sonar data with each other as they moved along slowly and silently.
Now… it was time to wait and see what the reaction would be..

It was a grand sight to behold, as far as Master General Glen Henson was concerned. He’d been a Captain during the Omzian War, and would have never imagined he’d be heading up this many troops on foreign soil. After the War, Sniper Country had gone into a secession type mode, dealing only within itself, running autonomously apart from all its allies and enemies. However, this was a different time. The SCAF was, for the most part, rebuilt, although the Naval Forces were still more than lacking. When Commander General Mark Spitz had come to Henson about leading this training exercise, he agreed without hesitation. To lead over thirty thousand troops into foreign soil for a training exercise, with the potential to enter actual combat (as a result of the tensions between Gholgoth and APOC) was something he’d only daydreamed about during long hours in his office. This, however, was the real deal.

-----

“Dude, that is so bad,” MSG Smiley said as he walked toward the Suburban SUV designated for Fray Platoon.

“It’s our Hate Truck,” 1SG Landrum replied, opening the rear of the vehicle, revealing a mass amount of weapons and ammunition.

“Thisness,” Smiley said. Thisness was a word used throughout Sniper Country to signify sheer awesomeness. “So this thing can take a direct RPG round from any angle, direct hit from an underside IED, small arms; all that stuff?”

“Yeah, basically. Newest model; just rolled off the lot and into the chopper. I think we’re getting the first one,” Landrum said, slinging his M4B1 behind his back.

“So what do we got in here,” Smiley replied, inspecting the arms in the rear of the vehicle. “A SAW, two sixties, three eight-seventies, three RPGs, ‘nades… and some other crap,” Smiley said to himself, counting the arms in the truck. “Six thousand rounds for the gunnies? Sweet action! Eight boxes for the shotguns, and three bags for the rockets. Dude, this is awesome!”

“Well you wanna ride?” Landrum asked. “We gotta take it over to the Sandcastle. We’re over on the eastern side, mixed in with the 198th. They should be done with our castle by now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. The 198th?! I knew Henson was going to screw us, man. I bet Biggs and Emery got mixed in with the 2nd, didn’t they?” Smiley replied, obviously perturbed.

“Heh, you know the man better than I do,” Landrum said, getting into the driver’s side of the Suburban. “Emery’s with the 2nd on the west, we’re with the 198th on the east, and Mae’s with the 12th on the south. They’ve got the 55th and 104th covering the north, so they should be good up there, but we’re on standby to assist them if they need it, which I don’t think they will. And if they do, it’s going to be a sad, sad day in the SCAF. We have free reign in the east, which I’ll gladly take, since Emery and Mae are having patrol to the south and west due to this APOC bullshit. But we do have a gunny nest and an ATGM to man over the castle. Oh, and we’re under Henson’s direct order, so expect to make several trips to C3 while we’re here.”

“Man I knew this was going to happen. He does this to us every time. Even back home, at Anberlin – and he’s not even stationed at Anberlin! We get called out to ‘101 because he wants us to do some stupid wargame or some crap with the GRUNTs. I tell you what, man, we better see some real action out here, or I’m gonna be pissed,” Smiley vented, obviously outraged.

“Tell me about it. But that’s the way the ball rolls, man. You know that.”

-----


MGN Henson hung out the door of the UH-60 Blackhawk as he toured the Staging Area. Lines of trenches had been dug, sandbags lined the walls for miles, and concertina wire spread as far as the eye could see. Sandcastles, as the SCAF called them, rooms dug underground to serve as headquarters, barracks, storage, or any number of uses, dotted the trench lines every few hundred feet. Large tents were scattered over the area, along with large, makeshift houses which would serve as Crack Houses, buildings utilized for Urban Combat Tactics training. A makeshift heliport was established toward the south of the area, allowing a constant flow of helicopter traffic to and from the Staging Area. The heliport was roughly a mile north of the SCAF C3, where most of the SCAF command would reside during the operation. The Staging Area had been designated FOB Danger, after a small FOB which made a last defense of Honjaksgrad during the Omzian War.

FOB Danger was impenetrable as far as an infantry attack went, although a few tank battalions could do some heavy damage at the moment. Troops were working around the clock digging First Defense Trenches, which would stop tanks dead in their tracks, and keep infantry at bay for several minutes. There was an ample supply of concertina wire, as well as sandbags, so the Staging Area was being as built up as possible, given the danger which laid just across the border. Chinook helicopters were still in the process of bringing in ATGMs and GTAMs which would dot the FOB at random locations to protect from tanks and aircraft. Machine gun nests, mainly set up near the four entrance checkpoints into the FOB and near Sandcastles, were manned by rotating details. The nests maintained at least two guns – M249 SAWs, M60E4s, and M240Gs, mainly – as well as up to three additional infantrymen per nest.

MGN Henson smiled as the helicopter made another pass over the northern part of the FOB. He knew many other nations may deploy on training missions with laser systems or some other sort simulation material, but not his troops. Every GRUNT on the ground had his load of live ammunition “locked and cocked.” It was only when the men would go into an actual training scenario, such as Urban Operations or Target Sweep or Team Assault, that they would change out their live ammunition and install rubber bullets, which, as any SCAF member would tell you, “Don’t feel too good.” Several of the troops would look up toward the passing Blackhawk and flip the bird, to which Henson would laugh and return the unregistered salute.

Henson, one of four Major Generals in the SCAF, was an older soldier, nearing his sixties. He had a well-kept goatee, and long, dark hair, which was usually covered by a ball cap of some sort. He was tall – 6’4” – and was of medium build. He’d done his time in the DBs before they had been disbanded after the Omzian War, and never attempted to enter into the SOF-D, which earned him the ire of most SOF-D troops in the SCAF. Henson was seen as a traditionalist when it came to the military, which earned him further disrespect by many troops within the SCAF. He made up for this, however, with his abilities as a tactician. On this front, very few contradicted him. His abilities as a wartime commander earned him his position as a Major General and supplied him with the respect of the SCAF.

-----

“So, we’re done, right?” Sergeant Second Class Tom Snowden (http://tropaselite.t35.com/us_army_special_forces_afeg_sfa03.jpg) asked his buddies as they finished up their dinner.

“Yeah. Northern Sector is secure. The last of the guys are coming back in a few minutes; they’re just running checks on the FDTs to make sure there’s no gaps and they’re deep enough and all that junk. We may have to head out there tomorrow and put out a little more concertina wire, but that won’t take more than an hour. The 104th got this area tied down while we were out there, so we should be good, unless Henson decides to put us back out for some stupid reason,” replied Sergeant Zach Stallings, pouring the rest of his pretzels into his mouth.

“It’s about time. Two days of that crap is enough. Let’s see some good stuff,” Sergeant Will James spoke up, setting his utility pack down and pulling his LBE/PBA vest off. “I’m headed to the castle. I’m done for the night – see you guys at four,” he said again, stepping down into the trench and out of sight.

“Later, bro,” Snowden said. After a few minutes, Snowden reached into his utility pack. “Hey, watch this,” he said sneakily, pulling a flashbang out and pulling the pin. He tossed the grenade with pure precision, and watched it fall into the doorway of the castle. Moments later, the deafening sound and flash of light signaled the nearby troops to begin their laughter, as James came storming out of the castle. Once reoriented, James rushed back into the small, underground room, reloaded his M1911 with rubber rounds, and erupted back outside, firing at Snowden and the nearby soldiers. This only caused more laughter and invited more troops to join in on the hilarity.

Welcome to the SCAF.

OOC: Damn, I really want in. Oh well, I'm in way too much right now.