NationStates Jolt Archive

Camp Jason, Southern TPF

Terrain wise, southern TPF was fairly typical compared to the rest of the country. Vast, rolling plains separated the cities and town that blanketed the countryside. Hills occupied the east, most of them short and soft, there were also some woods here and there, you could see the local teenagers play paintball there or fish in the creek... they never caught anything. Recently however, this area has become somewhat of a small hotbed for rebel activity.

Since the surrender of the Reich to Automagfreek, the liberals had become increasingly hostile in their efforts to force change. While the invasion of Greal had managed to briefly distract the populace from the problems at home, the defeat at the hands of AMF had once again forced the population to look back home. The old Prussian Elite did not want to go easy however, over the past two months there had been hundreds of violent riots, hundreds were killed and billions of dollars of property were destroyed. Eventually the Junta had been forced to accept the liberal's demands when they lost support of the conservative party. For the first time in six years, The Reich was scheduled to have an election late next year. This, however, was not soon enough for some people, and the reforms not quite sweeping enough.

One party in particular had a problem with the new elections, it was known as the PWP and consisted of several hundred members of radical communists or anarchists. They wouldn't be a problem normally, but this group was armed, and heavily so. Nobody was exactly sure where they got all the weaponry from, but the fact was was that they were indeed armed and ready to fight, so to speak.

The attacks at first began off slowly, a few murdered cops, several robberies, stuff that it seemed regular organized crime would do. In reality these served as both training operations and money making operations for the PWP. The first serious attack was an ambush along the main highway, Route 76. They had set up several heavy machine guns, RPD's, RPGs, and mines. They were rampaging for at least an hour, and were able to slaughter over one hundred civilians and over two dozen police officers. More attacks continued, car bombs, bag-bombs, and mall shootings claimed hundreds more lives. Finally the government sent in several divisions to put down the rebellion, and checkpoints were set up on major roads and highway, chopper flew over the area. Some limited success had been originally achieved, thirty rebels had been killed, but the roaming kill squads had now disbanded, true military firepower being too much for them. Despite this, the hunting continued.

Surprisingly, the State Department received a surprise request from the Lyran military, their close allies and friends. They wished to send one or two divisions of men in order to gain combat expierence. Due to the poor state of the current Reich military because of the continued unrest, the request was quickly accepted. The Lyrans were to land at Campson Military Airbase, where they would be met and settled in. Command had already planned for joint patrols to begin, these patrols would go deeper into the hills than before. Intelligence suggested that the rebels had several arms caches and possibly the car bomb factory there, but command had been very hesitant to pursue the forces. Because of the general unrest, High Command and deemed it that the reserve divisions would literally sit there, do the occasional patrol, and generally wank off in base. However, the local commanders were competent, and they were finally able to convince High Command to allow them to take a more assertive role against the PWP.

Most of the officers were very excited to have the Lyrans arrive, anticipation was in the air. It would be a surprise to these officers not to see that battle-hardened cadre they expected, but rather young boys would be arriving to continue the age-old Lyran tradition of the "Blood-in". Waiting for the Lyrans was A Company of the 3rd Battalion, of the Second Brigade, 181st Reserve Division. These young lads would be accompanying the Lyrans into patrols the next day.

A Company, next most units on deployment, were fairly rowdy. Being reservists, they had a variety of jobs back home. Several were firefighters and police officers, others were mailmen, mill workers, marketers, gas store clerks, and car mechanics, to name but a few. They were laid-back, and the regulars looked down on them often, but they had acquitted themselves well on the patrols. Still, most had not yet seen combat and patrols were a lot different. They all glanced up as they saw the first Lyran transport plane arriving, and the Divisional band prepared their instruments. This did not normally happen in a combat zone, but not once had the PWP attacked with mortars or rockets.

The first Lyran formation was Bravo Company, 28th Battalion, 2nd Mechanised Division.

A frontline formation, on work-up from a posting cycle, and with over a dozen personnel "blooding".

A mechanised unit, the battalion needed a goodly number of planes to arrive, but the equipment was primarily modular, and all was air mobile in the strategic sense.

Lieutenant-Colonel McMahon commanded the battalion, and Bravo Company fell under Major Grugnan, who, in typical Lyran infantry fashion was well over 6 feet.

The unit was calm, and, truth be told, a little sombre. The troubles in TPF were known within the Protectorate, and genuine concern for friends and allies was felt.

The knowledge that, even if combat was entered into, it would be against citizens of an ally, however misguided, did not sit particularly well.

Outrage at treachery warred with knowledge that the treachery existed.

The first of the aircraft began its final approach.

Campson Air Base

The first massive Lyran transport plane shuddered as it hit the tarmac, its myriad of wheels just barely holding its massive weight. Two other Lyran aircraft landed on the adjacant runways. With three runways, logistics personal hoped everything would be unloaded within two hours, TPFian air tankers were standing by to refuel if needed. The three runways were of course not the only ones, they were just the only ones that could support the transports.

As the first Lyran soldiers dismounted, the divisional band struck up "In the defense of the weak, Undaunted." Of course, the Lyrans had dismounted in true combat fashion securing a perimeter around their aircraft. They did not of course aim their rifles at their friends. The commander of the several divisions, Colonel-General Dobson, soon walked up to the Lyran officer in charge, and gave off a snappy salute.
" Welcome to TPF! Now, please hurry to get off the runway so our men can unload this bird and continue on to the next one. Please, follow me to my office. My officers will escort your men to their barracks."

Major Grugnan returned the salute to the TPF Colonel-General crisply, before gesturing to one of his platoon commanders. The man nodded in response, and got the hint. He'd handle the logistics of squaring the company away for the night.

If his earlier briefing had been correct, it would be their last night of sleep in a bed for some time. They began to turn towards the direction of the general's office.

"Sir, a pleasure to meet you. Please, lead the way."

Campson Air Base

Dobson smiled and did a smart about-face and headed towards the office. So far he wasn't too impressed by the Lyrans, they were quite obviously ultra-professional and held strict military discipline. They would find themselves at odds with the relaxed nature of the reservists. Sure, the regulars were very similar to the Lyrans, but they were regulars, toy soldiers, brainwashed. Not reservists like Dobson who, you know, have lives. Nevertheless, he was thankful for the Lyrans help.

They strolled through the base, and the laid-backed nature began to show. Several squads sat around smoking and playing cards, others were near the troopers' canteen drinking copious amounts of beer, they were loud and raucous and obviously drunk. The Lyrans could probably sniff the weed leaking out of the few tents, although if got with weed you were strictly punished. After all, aside from the occasional patrol these men had yet to do anything but wank off in base. Speaking of wanking off, they passed a tent filled with a projector, jammed packed with over one hundred troopers watching a pornographic featuring a few Castillan women doing some Franberrian men and women. Blushing, Dobson hurried back that display.

They then entered the regulars' area, a stark contrast to the reservists. There were still card games, but they were quieter. There was no weed, no trash on the ground. It was clean. There were still troopers at the canteen, but they were not smashed. These men actually had operations, after all. And they could be deployed anytime. Several helicopters landed on the pads, returning from a sortie. Once again, they failed to find anything.

The pair entered Dobson's office, and he pulled out some vodka and offered it to the Lyran. The Division's chief of operations was also there. " I hope you liked vodka. Prussian made, of course. Very good. Don't have more than one shot, however. Seriously. This is Major Davidson, commander of operations. He'll be briefing you on the operation tomorrow."

Major Grugnan felt the difference between the sectors quite clearly. Lyrans, as a rule, were fairly relaxed in their attitudes towards most things, but simply saw most cultural practices of non-Lyrans as a harmless waste of time.

Some would be more aggressive in their attitudes, especially some of the older officers. Warmarshal Krell, cantankerous old fellow that he was, would probably have had personnel flogged, if he could. His daughter, Natasha, wouldn't have cared a whit, so long as combat effectiveness was unaffected. It was very much a personality thing.

Grugnan was in the latter camp. His nose twitched a little as certain odours unknown to Lyras wafted past, but otherwise didn't react. Questioning the practices of his hosts from the get-go wouldn't be a good way to win friends or influence people.

Grugnan politely waved off the proferred vodka, and shook hands with Major Davidson, before responding once more to the General.

"Thank you, sir, but no. I would be happy to have a shot or six with you after the operations, though. Major Davidson, I am very pleased to meet you. My company has been looking forward to working alongside The People's Freedom, and are keen to get into it."

General's Office

" Of course, of course." Dobson allowed for his mind to wander as the major launched into the operational plan that Dobson had heard many, many times before.

" Sir," the major began," for the last two months or so we have been in a holding pattern against these anarchist terrorists, due to the increasingly bad political situation in the Senate and the strain this is having in the military. I have been trying for day one to convince our commanders to allow an offensive, and I have only recently got it approved. They were probably sick of me asking." He smirked. Davidson walked over to a interactive LCD table that was a favorite among military commanders, and overlayed a map of the area. " We believe that the terrorists have retreated to these hills, here. Ever since our first op where we killed over thirty of them, they decided it wasn't a good idea to fight us and are instead hiding here. Special forces teams have located several possible areas where they are located. Normally I would call in some bombers to kill these bastards, but frankly we are not sure exactly who they are, who's arming them, and how many there are. Intel is very interested in knowing this so we are prepared for a full operation. We-"
Just then, a man burst open the door into the General's office. He was evidently rather upset, and was breathing heavily. "Sir!" He gasped " One of the special forces team is requiring assistance! They have been ambushed and are taking fire!" The General bristled. " Order the rapid reaction team, and get air support up. Looks like your Lyrans will see action sooner than we expected." Dobson said, nodding to the Lyran.

In the Hills

Sergeant Mack was no stranger to combat. He and his team had been deployed in operations against several of the Reich's enemies many times. But never before had they been ambushed in this fashion, and he was scared as hell. It was night, and the quiet of the crickets had been shattered by the sound of gunfire, there was so much of it he felt as if his eardrums would burst. And the screaming of Rick, badly wounded by the claymore mine that had started the ambush. It didn't even seem like it was night, the entire area was lit with thousands of tracer rounds. They were pinned down in a small depression, which thankfully was giving them cover. If this depression had not been there, the team would likely not be alive. Two of the six were down four remained. Mack watched as the MG-7 of the group spat out thousands of rounds, pinning the enemy. Without thinking, Mack snapped up his M-35 rifle, and began firing at the enemy muzzle flashes. Sergeant Major was despretaly screaming on the radio for support, but with this amount of enemy forces in the area, Mack honestly thought the team wouldn't last long. He cursed as he slapped in another cyclical magazine.

Major Grugnan nodded, and pulled his phone from his pocket.

"No problem, sir. I will contact you from my command vehicle once we are on the move, and get you transmit me the details of your battlenet, so we can co-ordinate our movements."

He turned on his heels, heading out of the general's office, and brought his mobile phone to his ear, speed dialling '3' for Lieutenant Tabor, who answered within two rings.

"Sir?"

"Lieutenant, mobilise the company, and get everyone into their vehicles. This is not a drill, we are on call-out. I will meet with you on the tarmac, and we will move from there."

The man was rather surprised, but, as per Lyran operational procedures, recovered quickly.

"Understood. Degree of urgency?"

"Pri-1. Friendlies under fire."

"Got it. See you shortly, sir."

The phone clicked off.

'Good man' Grugnan muttered to himself, as he strode out towards the tarmac he had just walked in from.

Campson Airforce Base, on the tarmac

The situation on the tarmac had gone from purposeful and methodical to urgent and hectic. Soldiers dashed for the vehicles that were even then just rolling off the aircraft that had flown them in. Loaders were pushing magazines into weapons while they moved off their transports, balancing precariously on top of moving LY219s.

Within five minutes of the call out, Bravo Company, 28th Battalion, 2nd Mechanised Division, was heading out from Campson.

In The Hills

Comrade Leaskon grinned at the success of his ambush. His RPD's had been successfully set up, there were four of them pouring fire on the enemy, who was now pinned down in a shallow depression. He wished he had an AGS-17 grenade launcher, that would finish them off quickly, but unfortunately he did not. His men would have to move closer to the depression and throw some grenades in to finish off the bastards. Leakson knew he had to be quick, enemy reinforcements could arrive any minute. Soon, he was signaling for a stick of four men to move up against the depression. After exiting cover, however, they only managed to move up a dozen meters before being shot by the special forces troops. Damn, they were good shooters. It was obvious that he would need some other way to flush them out...

Like a bird of prey, the Bellicus armored attack transport helicopter swept low over the hills, flanked by two other of the same type. These heavily armed birds would deliver the first of the reaction force, which consisted of several squads of spec ops troops that had just been extracted. They were no doubt exhausted, but when they heard that friendlies had been ambushed, adrenaline rush into their system and they prepared to fight. The Bellicus choppers were truly powerful, wielding not only space for 12 troopers, but also deadly weaponry consisting of cannons, machine gun and grenade launcher pods, and rockets. The choppers could see the combat zone now, lit up with the intense fury of tracer rounds. Lead swept in, sweeping the foliage line with 23mm cannon fire and 15.5mm machine gun rounds. The second began to come in but the terrorists had a sunrise in store. A quad 27mm cannon began thundering, and not even the mighty armor of the Bellicus could survive such a barrage. The heavy rounds began pocketing the skin, soon breaching it and then shredded the rotor blades. Like a stone thrown from a skyscrapper, the helo crashed into the ground, its reinforced passenger bay buckling under the intense assualt of the ground. Back at command, the officers knew it would be a long night with one helo already down. One of the Bellicus managed to land a deposit ten men into the depression before bugging off. While the second one tried to also land and insert its troops, the massive enemy quad cannon opened fire again, having reloaded, and forced it to also retreat. Thus 14 special forces troopers were now again pinned down under the intense machine gun fire. To make matter worse, light mortars and RPG fire began to rain down on the depression.

" Can't say I'm glad to see you, Jonesey, but we sure needed the help!" Yelled Mack over the firestorm to his friend, "Jonsey". They had been on a number of operations together, although he had switched platoons a few months earlier, so they did not see each other as often.
" Heh. Screw you! If you bastards hadn't been ambushed I'd be at base enjoying a beer!" But before any banter could continue, a few bullets landed near by kicking up rain-soaked dirt and grass into their faces. It had just started to rain, heavily. In addition, Mack wasn't really in the mood to play around, two of his buddies were dead and a chopper was down. Now, at least, the troopers were keeping a steady stream of fire against the enemy terrorists. Behind him, Mack could hear the moaning of Rick, his screaming had stopped because the medic had arrived and quickly injected him with morphine. The situation, however was not good. Ricky would need to be evacuated quickly to live, he had been shot multiple times and was bleeding through his bandages. " So what the fuck do we do?" Screamed Mack to the sergeant major.
" Sit tight, Mack. Keep killing these bastards, we have a relief force on the way as well as air support."
" More choosers?"
" Hell naw, some fixed-wing coming in."
" Heh, good, too bad we couldn't have a Reaper."
" I wish that too, kid." The Reaper was the Prussian' nickname for the deadly Atlas-converted gunship that rained death down on any foe. If they had one nearby on station, the battle would be over.
Back at Base

Joining the Lyrans would be the fast reaction force, kept on alert 24/7 against situations such as these. As the Lyrans began to head out, the convoy joined them. The convoy consisted of around sixty men, loaded into Fox 4x4 vehicles of Lyran fame, as well as VAM armored cars and six ton trucks. The area they were heading in was barely suitable for heavy armored vehicles like the ones the Lyrans were using, they would have to dismount. Overhead, the first Aquila II's, or TF-60's, were spotted to help the belguared and sieged troopers.

The general had been as good as his word, logging the Lyran unit onto the local battlenet. With that, the situation had become far clearer, with the besieged elements of the TPF Spec Ops unit now highlighted in blue on the LCD display.

The news was not all good, though. The terrain was broken, rugged and treacherous... so much so that, despite the exceptional cross-country performance of the LY219 Ironheart light IFVs and APCs that were carrying the company, dismount would happen far too soon. The assault would be made on foot, something that Lyran mechanised forces, though more than capable of, tried to avoid.

Air support, according to the battlenet, was still in-bound, and a firesupport request from the unit under attack had already gone up. The fireworks would start soon, Grugnan imagined.

The plan that Grugnan had come up with was simple, but cast an eye towards the wider strategic position. The leftists had chosen their ambush site well. Steep sides, a shallow depression with no easy egress points. Under fire, the ambushed unit would withdraw to the only cover available... and Grugnan would have bet a month's worth of workcredits that the spot had been pre-sited with indirect fire. At least, that was what the topographical map showed.

Less obvious was the potential counter.

While the hills were, generally speaking, very difficult terrain, they weren't so difficult as to be impassable to LY219s, in most of the area. Sure, the ambush site was inaccessible, but the withdrawal routes were not. The company would dismount, and attack on foot, under cover of indirectly fired LY60 14.7mm HMGs at platoon level, and the 120mm Stormdrake mortars of mortar platoon at company level.

As the company's LY516/219 self-propelled mortars peeled off, preparing for the firing signal, the company moved into dismount. The Light IFVs and APCs, coupled with the MGS Ironhearts of direct fire support platoon, would conduct a double envelopment, and capture or kill any rebels that attempted to disengage from the combat zone.

Grugnan himself also dismounted, and, along with his CSM and CSIG slotted in alongside 3 platoon. All three infantry platoons would laucnh their assault simultaneously, along the same axis.

But not before the Stormdrakes let the rebels experience a measure of discomfort.

Three of the LY516/219s were available to a Lyran mechanised infantry company, usually formed together as 'mortar platoon'. The 120mm LY516 “Stormdrake” system is a 120 mm automatic twin-barrelled, breech loaded mortar turret. Stormdrake was been developed specifically to suit the Ironheart chassis, and while “Ironheart-M” remains the official designation, “Stormdrake” in Lyran parlance has generically come to mean the weapon system and platform. Stormdrake can fire 30 rounds in one minute, of which the first 16 can be set to detonate or impact on the target, or in the target area, at the same time. This is achieved by modifiying the trajectory and adjusting the propellant of each round fired, and simultaneously apply precise time calculations between shot release. Rounds fired earlier are released at higher trajectories, and employing more propellant, thus increasing the size of the ballistic arc. Ensuing rounds are fired later, and with a sequentially less powerful propellant and lower angle. The process can be repeated eight times, constantly adjusting angle and power, ensuring an equivalent effect to a time-on-target (TOT) barrage. The adjustment between shots is calculated, if requested, by the Cromwell FCS. The strike of one Stormdrake unit is assessed as yielding approximately equal explosive yield to the strike of a battery of conventional 120mm tube artillery. The Stormdrake turret has a full 360-degree field of fire, at elevations between -4 and +88 degrees. Stormdrake is capable of both conventional indirect fire and direct fire for self-protection or close support.

The Stormdrake combines the accuracy delivered by the Cromwell II digital fire control, powered traverse and elevation, high-speed autoloading, and an advanced aiming system with a 120mm fin-stabilised smoothbore mortar system to give precise direct support. From complete shutdown, while mounted on an Ironheart-M, Stormdrake can power up, load and fire an aimed shot within 10 seconds of opening the hatch on the vehicle. The weapon is fired remotely, from within the vehicle, but can be fired manually if the automatics cease to function. As with all current Lyran weapons, the LY516 Heavy Mortar is fully compatible with most internationally in-service force information systems, to mitigate the chances of a blue-on-blue. The Stormdrake is the current benchmark in quick reacting, strategically mobile and high lethality intimate fire support to rapidly moving armoured, mechanised or motorised forces.

Two of the platforms were targetted to the left and right of the indicated enemy positions, while the third was specifically assigned to attack the opposing force concentrations. Upon the barrage beginning, the rebels would have the option of either moving forward, into the advancing Lyran infantry and incoming fire from TPF special forces, moving sideways, into a continuing barrage from 120mm mortars, or moving rearwards. The latter, while initially both logical and no doubt psychologically appealing, would lead the rebels into the encirclement provided by the armoured fighting vehicles of the company, carrying out the double-envelopment as they were.

Sprinkled throughout the 3 infantry platoons, not that it would have been obvious to an outside observer unversed in Lyran culture, were eight 14-year olds, newly assigned to the unit for 'blooding'. A long-standing Lyran tradition, they would fight alongside the Lyran soldiers, as their first experience of active combat. While the eight trainees were indeed still in training, the blooding was very much considered a rite of passage, and poor performance at a blooding was held as a grave dishonour. Nevertheless, Grugnan was curious as to their performance, and simultaneously concerned about his TPF allies.

Fighting for ones allies who sought help after being treacherously attacked... truly, there were few actions that brought greater honour...