NationStates Jolt Archive

Ravenna Naval Base, Ravenna, Californian Territories

The naval base and port city would see a good number of ships arriving in the coming weeks as Aequatian Republic Merchant Marine RORO cargo vessels unloaded scores of tonnes of vehicles, equipment and supplies for the Aequatian Army's LVII Corps and its two heavy maneuver divisions, the third being deployed to the Californian Nord Ven Air Force Base north of the city. The wet and chilly climate of the region was something that most Aequatians were not accustomed to experiencing, unless they were from Aequatius Nord, and the 57th COSCOM personnel ashore stood miserably on the dockyard donned in the OD107 green rainproof poncho and civilian white hardhat helmets directing the cranes and containers as they were lowered to the piers.

Captain Maxwell Fuchs spoke into his hand-held radio as he waved down one of the cranes hauling an M50 Lucas mechanized combat vehicles covered with a thick tarp and set its tracks down on the wet concrete. He worn an orange armband with black initials "M.C." representing his duties in the Movement Control staff as they shifted the materiel flooding into the port. The airport within the city would also be accepting the chartered flights of airliners carrying uniformed personnel and soldiers who had, only days previously, were on exercises in the field preparing for the coming operation. Once the arriving units were reunited with their vehicles and heavy equipment, they would be moved to the borders with both Kocobo and Harovenia and secure the zones until they were given additional orders from the LVII Corps headquarters.

Moving along the highways in Ravenna, the tracked vehicles ran under their own power with rubber pads attacked to their track links to protect the roads from being torn up, units from both the 24th and 29th Mechanized Infantry Divisions moved to their positions on the border zone with Harovenia. First Sergeant Adam Neumann sat in the turret of an M20A4 Mackall main battle tank as it drove along the side of a highway that had been closed off for their use, thanks to the local authorities, and watched the civilian traffic moving on the other side of the divider. A pair of brothers, neither looking older than ten years old, looked up at the massive steel beast and the uniformed sergeant from their family sedan and waved in awe as Neumann smiled, set his goggles atop his helmet and waved back with his gloved hand.

-----

Nord Ven Air Force Base, Ravenna, Californian Territories

As the army units in the south were preparing to move out towards the border zone from their unloading points outside the city of Ravenna, the Aequatian Republic Air Force began arriving at the Californian Nord Ven Air Force Base in operational numbers. The main combat formation would be the 57th Expeditionary Strike Force (Provisional) that would allow for the air service to conduct a number of important support missions into the neghbouring states for the ground forces. The F-194A Pandora multirole fighters, the newest additions to the Air Force's inventory, would have their baptism of fire in the coming operations as they would be taking the brunt of the combat duties in both air combat and air interdiction.

Even as the Military Airlift Command's C-181A Starlifter II transports continued to arrive with the necessary supplies and weapons for supporting the air wing's operations, flights of F-194A aircraft were already lifting off the tarmac for combat air patrols along the border with Harovenia and ensure that enemy aircraft would not present a threat to the positions set by the mechanized forces of the 24th and 29th Infantry Divisions. Pilot Officer Emily "Zoomer" Cooper kept her aircraft in tight formation with the rest of her flight as they approached the border zone, they maintained an altitude of 5,000 metres and remained on the Ravenna side and examined the border zone with their SHARP reconnaissance pods as the EP-191B Aurora airborne early warning and control aircraft swept the skies with their radar suites for enemy contacts.

The airbase would also serve as LVII Corps headquarters during the operation and Lieutenant-General Ronald Weber would direct the movements with the support of his staff. One of the command buildings was converted into the necessary office space for the Corps command personnel with storage provided by one of the empty hangers. The 15th Infantry Division would also be operating out of the airbase, given its air assault role and close coordination with both Army Aviation and Air Force airlifters.

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Ambrose Sea, Kocobo Bay

The deployment to Ravenna continued on schedule as more of the LVII Corps elements arrived by the hour in the port and airbases in cooperation with a joint Navy and ARMC deployment to prevent any maritime security breaches and to enforce the declared Hostile Exclusion Zone in order to prevent foreign interference in operational matters. Three amphibious groups sailed through the water and was supporting the 22d Marine Expeditionary Force that would conduct contingency missions as a floating reserve with a number of carrier battle groups and a battleship squadron with three Cravanian-designed Laurana class battleships for naval gunfire support. Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Carter White, the chief of naval operations for the operation's task force, stood within the HAVFLTCOM headquarters on Innovata along with his staff as they monitored the task force's vessels moving into their positions for enforcing the exclusion zone's perimeter and the effective blockade of Kocobo Bay.

The fleet carrying the 22d Marine Expeditionary Force sailed in its calm formation as its crew and passengers all prepared for the coming operation. Staff Sergeant Chappell sat in an old lawn chair brought out from the bunk quarters and supervised as the marines of his platoon fired at released floating targets off the stern of the Adams class amphibious assault carrier. He thought back to the day in which they had heard of the notification that the regiment had been chosen to undertake the mission to Yuslevakia and that their training would ramp up towards their embarkation. Chappell and another of the marines in his company had returned after Christmas break, the regiment had begun its mobilization. There were several days of mayhem in the first week, working from before sunrise until well after it had set, as they prepared to embark aboard the task force ships. Paperwork needed to be filled out, beneficiaries were updated on insurance policies and wills had to be completed and signed. Equipment and weapons needed to be inventoried, inspected and packed properly while the marines had to be loaded aboard the ships and get their quarters in order.

The nature of the mission meant that the expeditionary force had to travel light and this was no exception, it forgoed the usual support units of a marine division's reinforced regimental combat teams and traveled with few armoured vehicles. The entire force was supported with a single battalion of M20A4 Mackall tanks and Bear light tracked vehicles each. The ship that Chappell and the rest of his Battalion ended up on, the RNS Ponce, was one of the newer Adams class through-deck assault ships, and allowed for them to be assigned to the helicopter units of the Marine Air Group assigned to their regimental combat team.

Although it was a relatively new vessel, life aboard the "Big-P" remained miserable. Marines were packed into berthing areas from the deck to the overhead without any chance to gain privacy. Queues were established for every activity, from getting chow from the galley, to the showers, to send and receive post or to use the few telephones or satellite-internet access computers to contact home. Despite this, the marines continued to train constantly in the ship's well deck, along with the daily highlight of either the morning physical training which took place atop the flight deck or if there was a ship's drill as most of the time was spent below decks in the troop areas, although it was agreed by the brigade's members that the food provided by the Navy was good.

Once the announcement had been made that they were being diverted for an operation in Haven, newly-graduated recruit riflemen and veterans like Chappell alike longed to arrive at their destination and to be rid of the crowded ships. The spare time aboard was passed by working out, playing video and board games, watching movie discs, the latter being mainly war movies, a favourite being Desert Rose, which followed the events of the historic 15th Marine Regiment in the Iraqstan War. The young men talked a lot as well, mainly discussing passing issues like women and their most favourable "qualities", sporting events, statistics and players, notable pubs and dance clubs within driving distance of the base back in Aequatio and finally, worry whether they would live up to the traditions of the Republic's Marine Corps or if they would falter, or, worse yet, cower.

They were Marines and they all knew that they could not let the Corps down: Honour, courage, commitent. Each rifleman, gunner, driver and aviator, man or woman, of the brigade prayed that they would live up to their core values. As the ships came closer to the operational zone, the mood changed for both the Marines and Navy crewmembers, the Marines traded their everyday ship's utilities for their battle dress utilities uniforms in the "Spider" woodland pattern and they became more serious as it became clearer that they were actually going to be in combat. The ships' crewmembers began treating the Marines with more respect, and the everyday bantering between the sailors and marines all but stopped.

Harovenian Border Zone, Ravenna, Californian Territory

Aviation would be the first Army assets deployed to reach the border as Air Cavalry teams formed with OH-98B Corvus light observation helicopters backed by AH-72F Viper attack helicopters to return fire against any ground forces on the Harovenian side of the border. Operating from a safe distance from the border zone were entire batteries of M197 multiple launch rocket systems, capable of strike missions ranging from interdiction to suppression of air defences using their inertial-guided 250mm rockets with dual-purpose improved conventional munitions or the even more accurate MGM-331 Sabre tactical ballistic missiles for deep strike fire missions.

Sergeant Diana Parris, an M197 crew chief with the 24th Field Artillery Brigade, stood next to the vehicle as the 360-degree launcher was being loaded with one of the 250mm rocket "six-packs" and a single MGM-331 Sabre with a unitary, 450kg high-explosive warhead for precision attacks. The sergeant pulled a cigarette package out from a pocket on her field jacket in the Army's Artemis (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/Camouflage/TW-Scout.png) Digital Woodland Pattern as was the rest of her uniform. Her black leather combats sunk slightly in the rain-soaked grass at the side of the vehicle's cab as she lit the cigarette, shielding it with her hand. Taking in a drag from the cigarette, she rested her back against the hull of the launcher and took off her crewman's helmet, leaving her dirty-blonde hair mussed from being confined for the entire drive from the city of Ravenna to the battery's area of operation. Parris wiped the moisture off her forehead with the back of her Nomex-gloved hand as one of the gunners came around from the front of the cab, his helmet replaced with the "Gunner green" service beret and the brigade's low-visibility cap badge pinned to its front as he smoked his own cigarette, "What are you thinking, sarnt?" He asked after exhaling the blue smoke.

"I'm thinking we're going to be seeing some busy times coming," She replied turning towards the young man, "Just make sure that the crew has those supply schedules up to date, I don't want us to run out of anything in the middle of a fire mission," She said as the gunner nodded and walking off to the camouflaged battery headquarters vehicle.

Units stationed at the operational zones only thirty kilometres from the border were equipped differently as the field engineers used their armoured bulldozers to construct massive berms with the earth while infantry, donned in their Mark.IV RNBC Protective Suits printed with the same Digital Woodland Pattern, dug in their living quarters and cooking areas. First Sergeant Neumann wore his Mark.IV suit over his tanker's coveralls when outside of the vehicle with his M108 Rebreather tucked away in its carrying satchel, the self-contained rebreather replaced the original M93A1 Respirator in order to prevent the use of filter-defeating chemical agents such as those deployed by the Griffincrest Corporation long ago in their invasion of The World Soviet Party. The senior non-commissioned officer supervised as one of the tank platoons waited for the engineers to plow hull down positions for their vehicles, as each depression in the earth was made, one of the M20A4 Mackalls would be directed inside and the fields of fire were checked and the crew would then get to work on their accommodations.

The rain made the digging more difficult as the soldiers, in full chemical gear, used their entrenching tools to move the heavy, wet earth to fill sandbags to use as anchors and foundations for the hexagonal general purpose or "GP" tents. Diesel-burning stoves would provide heat to the interior when awake and elevated cots with heavy wool OD103 shade blankets and metallic thermal blankets to retain heat while sleeping. Mess halls were created with the larger tents along with chapels and command centres as the units became accustomed to their environment, despite its unfriendly climate, and learned to live at a tolerable level. The weather itself made for fewer opportunities for outdoor activities, but that failed to stop the mechanized soldiers as they did what they could to remain active. A few played soccer with the open rear compartment ramps of M50 armoured carriers as goal nets while others conducted normal drills and physical training as the commanding officers ran exercises and patrols closer to the border.

-----

Nord Ven Air Force Base, Ravenna, Californian Territory

Lieutenant-General Weber walked through the tiled hallway of the Californian building as he sipped from a ceramic mug of coffee from the building's cafeteria while he pushed open the door to his command centre. His "office" was little more than a desk and chair off to the side of the briefing room packed with laptop computers, personnel and the main server. He took a seat in the chair and looked over the situation reports from his chief of staff concerning the deployment of both mechanized divisions along the Harovenian border and the readiness levels of the 15th Division and its air assault formations. The building shook as a pair of F-194 fighters on full afterburners took off for their time on the operational CAP watching over the border for enemy aircraft.

As the air assault troopers of the 15th Division prepared themselves for their part in the coming operation, special operations soldiers of the 55th Special Forces Group (Airborne) had already been preparing for their role in the operation for four weeks prior to the arrival of the LVII Corps formations. Alpha Teams would be inserted into Harovenia covertly to conduct a number of strategic reconnaissance missions, namely the location of the nation's military and command infrastructure and designate them for air force strike packages. At the same time, they would also "sniff out" the locations of air defence units and inform the specialized Wild Weasel flights of their locations for elimination.

Captain Albert Crane, one of the A-team commanders, packed the last of their required kit in their makeshift barracks in one of the airbase's hangers and waited for the time to come for their insertion across the border. The special forces soldiers wore the same digital pattern uniforms of the regular forces with a few differences made for their status, including the elimination of all insignia save for the low-visibility Aequatian tricolour, such as additional pieces of camouflage and the lighter "Para" Model helmets instead or patterned patrol caps. The "high speed" nature of the personal kit and weapons carried by the troopers made them the envy of the regular soldiers on the base during the run-up to their deployment.

Lieutenant Pianisskiy looked nervously at his watch, seeming to wait for something. About 30 men sat behind him in the thickets, resting in wait for an inevitable march. The men could have been right at home in the ghetto. They all wore civies, but at least there was a common color. Many groups could not even manage that. Pianisskiy wore a uniform, probably borrowed from his days as a cadet at a major academy in foreign lands before being thrown out for one reason or another. Usually, it wasn't political dissent, or anything noble like that. It was always 'academic dishonesty', or some other issue detrimental to being a good officer. Of course, the decision to kick him out was right, he was in fact a mediocre officer, but he certainly couldn't have known that the other groups in the 20 mile sector were way off from their rally points when the clock struck 9:00 A.M.

Operations in Barkozy were a mess. Even without the secrecy that this one necessitated, it was difficult enough to coordinate between very independent military units. Everyone had to personally check in with runners, radios were a luxury for armies with actual encryption, and often there was little or no training.

Secrecy in Barkozy meant ordering a muster by talking to the local O.G. directly rather than screaming through a megaphone. It was more secure, but everything happened a lot more slowly. Many commanders far from the front felt like there was a filter, where 'order' became 'politely request' and 'immediately' meant 'at your leisure', so when the order came down the line to cross the border into Yuslevakia, everyone took their time. At the top levels, there was an assumption that everyone was ready and there was even a time set to cross the border. No one coordinated watches or even tried to find neighboring units. Units crossed the border hours early or late and in dribs and drabs; the quickness and secrecy of the order meant companies were well out of position by the time the attack order came. Worst of all, they usually crossed with few extra supplies. While there were plenty to be had, there was an order never to use the truck paths into Yuslevakia. This meant that foraging was the most common form of supply for militia crossing the border.

Even with all this secrecy, the roads were not clear for long. If there had been any opposition at all, this operation would have been a disaster, but as luck would have it, there was no border defense, only tatters of a fence long ravaged by previous expeditions. It was inevitable that someone would find out, but to what extent? Could this be just another bandit raid, or could it be a response to this incursion? One thing's for sure, this one is certainly not going to be a model military operation.

[Hamlet of Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo]

What was once a proud (if somewhat modest) country villa was now a smoldering ruin, support beams and walls reduced to scorched ash and cinders. Over a kilometer away, the perpetrator of this rather serious case of arson grinned as his eight round autoloader cycled a second M453A4 high explosive anti-tank shell into the breech of his monstrous one hundred twenty five millimeter smoothbore cannon. On the receiving end of this terrible bombardment lay the remains of a Kocoboan rifle platoon, roughly a dozen men left out of an original thirty. These once proud militiamen scattered in fear and confusion amidst a punishing and constant barrage of coaxial autocannon fire, punctuated by the odd thunderous roar of a tank cannon, churning the village and the soil it was built upon into a brown hellscape.

Returning fire was out of the question, they had neither the ability nor willingness to engage their opponents at such an extreme range and under such withering suppression fire. Caught in a small fifty kilometer bulge in their rapidly retreating front lines, the defenders of this small hamlet could do little but keep their heads to the deck and pray, pray to their God that the avatars of vengeance that had caught them in their sights would granted them a merciful end, a prayer that would fall on ears deafened by the terrible and chaotic din of human conflict.

There was no retreat, tactically or strategically. Rapidly advancing NCON mechanized forces had smashed their Kocoboan counterparts in the opening weeks of the conflict, leaving the Kocoboan People's Army with little offensive capability to flaunt against the ever pressing legions of Velkyan and Skyian forces pouring forth from their beachheads on the southern coasts. Naval aviation elements of the NCON expeditionary forces had achieved air superiority over the nation within one hundred hours of the launching of Operation Southern Cross, furthering cementing the loss of both armored and aerial support for the trapped militiamen.

On a more local scale, they could at least take comfort in the fact that their sector was the only one were the odds were evened in favor of their obsolete weapons and tactics. The central mountain regions of Kocobo made it impossible for the armored divisions of Concordiant military to fully mass their firepower, with the task of seizing these mountain strongholds left to specialized Velkyan mountaineer and arctic warfare units, units which now laid siege to Alagir. It was in these mountains that the frustrated and previously crushed remnants of the regular Kocoboan military joined with their reservist and militia brethren, forcing their more advanced invaders into bloody infantry engagements within the peaks and valleys of ancient mountain vistas.

Alagir had been a recent hotbed of militia activity, located on a plateau overlooking Lake Cazil in the southern reaches of the Arkam mountain ranges, containing several large ammunition dumps for their forces. The civilian populace had long since fled from the threat of NCON aerial attacks on the local military, who, had, in a sheer stroke of luck, managed to down several tactical aircraft with shoulder fired missiles. This turn of events was beginning to cause local NCON air controllers and forward observers a significant headache in securing air support for ongoing operations in neighboring sectors, and, soon, the order came from the top to clear the hamlet and silence the guns of Alagir.

It was a surprising quick firefight, an exception to the rule of normally drawn out counterinsurgency operations . Under the cover of darkness, a flight of Skyian heavy logistical support helicopters landed a company of Velkyan 832nd Infantry Division mountaineers on the southeastern edge of the fortress-village, bringing along a pair of M89A3 main battle tanks for fire support. These hulking eighty ton monsters, a rare sight in the often craggy peaks of central Kocobo, quickly turned the tide of what would otherwise be a protracted infantry engagement. Following a preliminary bombardment from a towed howitzer unit on a neighboring plateau, the assault begin at 0500 hours and ended in time for a brisk and early breakfast, a cold but hardy meal of prepackaged rations served amongst the broken bodies of the Kocoboan defenders. Total Velkyan losses numbered, fortunately, in the single digit range, while the estimated casualties of their adversaries numbered nearly sixty, with a further hundred prisoners taken by the end of the engagement.

A far more interesting and relevant prize were the infamous missile launchers themselves, a half dozen in all. A few were marred by the ad-hoc application of the silhouettes of Velkyan and Skyian strike aircraft, an ironic slap in the face to the many fighter aces who painted similar portraits onto the surfaces of their own weapons. The launchers were subsequently identified on-site by military intelligence officers as Doomani in origin, unsurprising given the nation's status as a libertine of the international arms market.

By noon, the prisoners had been airlifted to the rear for processing and compounding in the appropriate facilities, leaving the men of the 832nd to gather data and compile after action reports on the exchange. While they were by no means safe, after all still being fairly deep inside hostile territory, they could catch their collective breathes for the time being, having secured yet another mountain fortress in the struggle to bring stability to the troubled land of Yuslevakia.

[Hamlet of Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo]

As suddenly as they themselves had struck, the NCON forces now occupying the plateau now found their positions compromised and subsequently counterattacked by insurgents. 'Counterattack', of course, being a more delicate term than the reality of the situation. Velkyan light infantryman, only hours before confident and secure in their victory, now scattered for cover amidst the constant clatter of heavy machine gun fire and the zipping booms of recoilless rifles. Forced to occupy fighting positions and foxholes ironically occupied by their adversaries mere hours ago, the infantrymen attempted to form a cohesive defensive positions while their armored support attempted in vain to pinpoint the locations of the attacking enemy forces.

Their conclusion of, course, would leave no other outcome. The incoming hostile fire did not possess a singular direction, instead peppering the NCON soldiers and vehicles with a seemingly three hundred and sixty degree circle of suppression fire. In effect, Alpha company and her sixty fighting men were surrounded on all sides of their newly acquired fortress, trapped inside a circle of death by mountains hostile to their very existence. As the afternoon turned to dusk, the fighting only intensified, dotted the twilight with the brilliant reds and greens of tracer fire, punctuated by the occasional detonation of a projectile in midair by the active protection systems of a Velkyan armored vehicle. Although their advanced body armor and superior training shielded the Velkyans from the brunt of the incoming fire, such luxuries could only do so much, causing them to sustain steadily mounting casualty numbers.

Their armored support was faring little better in their own operations. At virtually every opportunity, they were being engaged with a seemingly endless supply recoilless rifles and rocket propelled grenades, which, while posing a relatively minor threat to the two tanks and their respective crews, was rapidly draining their active protection systems' ammunition supplies faster than they could silence the enemy anti-tank teams. Trails of twenty millimeter shell detonations arced along the hillside in response, causing the enemy to momentarily take cover before quickly regrouping and setting up their weapons at a different angle. This war of attrition was definitively not tipped in the favor of the Velkyans, and with ammunition supplies in danger of running dry, the gunners had no choice but to shift their active protection suites to reduced capability mode. This choice would render them vulnerable to smaller unguided launchers while still enabling the intercept of larger and higher velocity targets such as hostile guided missiles. This handicap effectively triaged their active protections, a gap in their defenses the Kocoboans would be sure to exploit. It was a significant gamble on the part of the crews, but, given the situation, a necessary one, if they were to survive the night and whatever hell it might bring.

Grand architecture. Sweeping boulevards. Well paved, clear roads, stretching into the distance, flanked on either side by the majestic palaces and ministries of a great and glorious monarchy. Prime Minister Obrenović's car proceeded at a stately pace.

This was Harovenia as His Imperial Majesty Archduke Franz-Iosef XXIV wanted to see it. The rusty old cars and pedal-powered tricycle taxis that had ferried the more wealthy Harovenians and foreign tourists up and down this road in the pre-revolutionaries days, when Yuslevakian federal law still exercised some check on the power of the Archduke, were gone. This part of the great city of St. Alexandrasburg had been cleared of "undesireables," particularly the hated Slovedonians, and infantry with fixed bayonets lined the causeway to make sure that is the Archduke looked from any window of his palace, he would see the picture-postcard world he wanted to create.

The Archduke did not dare to stray far from this area, however. He had not left his Archducal Palace since it was first stormed by Harovenian nationalists during the break-up of Yuslevakia. The majority of the population, mostly Harovenians, was behind him, but there still remained remnants of the ethnic diversity fostered by the Yuslevakian federation. There were many Slovedonians, Kocoboans and even Chruatians living in the countryside who would not hestitate to take the life of the Harovenian monarch, even if it meant their certain deaths.

The antique-looking car had stopped outside the Ducal Palace. Obrenović's driver opened the passenger door for him. He stepped out and the driver saluted. He passed a dozen sentries wearing spiked helmets who clicked their heels against the marble flooring as they saluted. He walked down corridors larger than the average Harovenian's house, walls barely visible beneath antique mirrors and paintings honouring the Archduchy's various wars with its neighbours. The victors and vanquished, Harovenians and Slovedonians merged into a haze of near-identical uniforms and heraldry to anyone not intimately acquainted with Yuslevakian history.

Obrenović stopped. The sentires either side of the door before him saluted. He knocked three times. The door opened.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Obrenović bowed.

The Archduke was surrounded by a forest of spiked helmets.

"Obrenović!" The Archduke beckoned his Prime Minister to approach. "Grave news, old friend. You must see this at once."

Obrenović advanced on the group of Generals surrounding their sovereign. Obrenović knew all these men, the military and civil branches of government not being well distinguished in Harovenia. He himself held a high military rank, and nominally commanded a cavalry formation he had never seen. He nodded to some of his allies. Others among the General Staff simply gave him an icy stare.

"Air Grand Marshal Karađorđe has been busy," the Archduke indicated the photographs strewn across his desk, some of them clearly taken with a hand-held camera by the pilot directly, as though the obese General Staffer had personally returned them all. "Foreign devils across the border. What do you make of it, Obrenović?"

Obrenović was one of the few men in the government of this country that would see itself a fully independent power who was really aware of anything going on beyond the borders of Yuslevakia. The Archduke himself had little idea of the divisions between the Great Powers of Haven. To him, Harovenia really was all that mattered, and Yuslevakia and the countries immediately bordering it were all the world. Even Barkozy was a little fuzzy, the Clandonian colony to its West might as well not exist.

"I believe they intend to attack, Sir. These are not Californian markings. The country to which these troops belong is not a Haven state. I can imagine no other reason why they would come all this way at great expense." Unless they intend to attack Slovedonia, he thought to himself, but dared not say it for fear that the Archduke and his Staff would assume that, naturally, they wanted to ally with great Harovenia against the Slovedonian foe, and do nothing to mitigate the potential for great harm to come to the Archduchy.

"I would suggest, Sir, that you call up your militias and rally your people to your defence. Your throne may be in very great danger."

The Archduke looked startled. He had gone quite pale. "No no, Obrenović, I shall not have that sort of talk," it was difficult to tell whether he was really addressing the Prime Minister, or himself.

"In that case, Sir, I would at least advise you to have the Air Grand Marshal's patrols stepped up. Our fighters (http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=2249&hl=) in the air may dissuade them. I do not know..." he left the thought hanging.

The Archduke was silent for a painfully long time. The General Staffers stayed silent and began carefully examining their shoes, anything to avoid the Archduke's eye.

"I... have made up my mind," the Archduke declared at last, to the great relief of the General Staffers, and to Obrenović, although he made less show of having ever been nervous. "The regular army shall redeploy against the Californian border. The militias shall take over manning of our defences against the Yuslevakian states. Our air defences, also, must be placed on high alert."

The General Staff responded in unison with "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" and turned to leave.

"Wait!" The Archduke gave them all an icy star, "If any one of you says in public that my throne is in danger, I shall have you hanged from the nearest tree."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Obrenović, meanwhile, began to take other preparations. First, he sent a message to California, a country that professed to be Harovenia's ally, expressing concern at the Aequatian deployment and asking for reassurance that California was not harbouring troops intended to attack their allies. Then he sent messages to some of his friends in the governments of the other Yuslevakian states, indicating that there may be cause soon for them to put their arguments aside for a campaign season or two, lest they all end up reunified under a foreign empire. Finally, he indicated his concerns to the ambassador to Questers, the one Great Power that was friendly to Harovenia.

He could not imagine why any foreigner would want this land, filled with savage peasants peasants, militias that counted close to entire nations among their number and enough landmines to wipe out entire armies. He suspected it had something to do with the greater powerplay at work in Haven, something he cared little about. Whatever may have been the reason, he resolved to defend his homeland to the end.

South of the Hamlet of Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo
Spear Flight

"War is hell."

Never had a truer statement passed through the mind of Lt. JG Allen O'Riley. The opening of the war had seen nearly non-stop action for two weeks as N-CON Naval Aviation systematically destroyed the Kocoban Air Force on the ground and in the air. The constant close air support calls had dwindled as the amount of the enemies heavy armor was whittled down and nearly stopped once the heavy units had pushed in land.

However, as the saying goes "All good things must come to an end," and Lt. JG O'Riley found him and his flight in the midst of the shit storm that was the N-CON's operation to push into the central mountains. That's how O'Riley and Spear Flight found themselves headed towards the Hamlet of Alagir.

"Spear 1 to Spear Flight, We've been ordered to assist a Velkyan formation pinned down on a plateau, UAVs report that fire is coming from a series of caves and hills lightly covered by brush and trees. Hold fire until authorized."

O'Riley gripped the control column and began his in-flight weapons checks. O'Riley was flying the real life translation of death from above, he had two three-barreled 33mm rotary cannons built into his plane, or rather, the plane was built around the cannons. In addition he had 36 medium ranged ATGMs and 12 long range missiles, the A-6GC was an aircraft that could make even he venerable warthog turn green with envy.

As the flight grew closer to Alagir O'Riley came over the radio once again. "Go active with your sensors, ground forces reported that all heavy enemy anti-air in the area has been neutralized but watch for stingers, we're authorized up to Angels Ten and we've got two flights of Shadow's providing cover so don't worry about any ASFs. Wind speed is near zero, perfect gun weather."

The formation of four A-6GCs lowered their altitude and began their run over the combat zone. The M34 Universal Submunition Dispensers were loaded with smoke and thermobarics, on the first run the planes would deploy the smoke on the perimeter of the Velkyan positions, hopefully the Kocobans lacked the infar-red optics that would allow them to see through the smoke thus giving the advantage to the optic equipped Velkyan marines and Skyian air force.

The run began, the planes hit opened their throttle and started to drop the smoke cover for the Velkyans as well as dispensing flares and chaff to cover themselves from stingers and the like while their 'Hot Flash' laser dazzler watched for any laser guided surface to air missiles. They were also covered by ECM [to mess with any ground guided electro-optical missiles] and radar jammers.

[posting as Kocobo]

[Hamlet of Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo]

Lt. Kamidze peered through a pair of binoculars with one lens shattered, at the encircled Velkien airborne. The enemy was putting up a ferocious defense but Lt. Said Kamidze knew that in time they'd be left without ammunition and a means to offer resistance. Success for him centered around defeating the enemy or forcing a surrender before any support arrived. The snap of a bullet passing by supersonic sounded just mere inches from the commander's face. He gave the binoculars to an aid and began barking orders at an officer by his side. The shaggy man in his thirties nodded and ran out of sight, not before speaking to a pair of men with shoulder held RPGs and having them follow him.

Hours earlier Kamidze's company had been routed from the mountain hill top. An airborne attack of elite infantry and two tanks was the last thing they had expected and there was little they could do than to abandon their positions. Humiliated Kamdize and the few dozen of his men who were still alive ran off into the hills and surrounding villages. Mere hours was all it took. A page was sent via motorcycle down one of the roads winding through the mountainous region towards the village of Parpatsky which was a base for roughly a hundred soldiers and resistance fighters. Hours was all it took for the entire garrison (if it could be called that by the irregular appearances of men who had the dark humor to still call themselves an 'army') to take their rifles and rockets and hop into farm trucks, hooting and hollering chants of Allahu Akbar, God is Great, and make their way to the village of Yer-Mori.

Having gathered an additional seventy men from the neighboring village of Hoorba Lt. Kamidze was ready to launch his counter attack. There was no report made to central command. This was because by this point there wasn't really any central command to be heard of. The main army was still reeling from disastrous defeats in the early days of the war, with the bulk of armor and heavy weapons lost in the fighting or simply abandoned to the enemy. A report of the battle would find its way to the presidential palace later, after the battle had been concluded.

The Velkiens had demonstrated their tactical prowess with a daring surprise raid and their superiority in discipline and heavy machinery had taken the defenders of the hill top totally off guard. However Velkien military planners had made a grave miscalculation with this mission. Having secured the hilltop in the middle of enemy territory with such a small force, the Velkiens apparently had no plan for further advance or to deal with the ever increasingly hostile population. With the rout of the Kocobar army in the early days of the war it isn't hard to imagine traditional minded military planners expecting a veritable walk in the park from that moment on, having crushed the will and means of the Kocobar government to wage an effective war. However what was unaccounted for was the willingness of native forces to engage in guerrilla type attacks, utilizing any available means to accommodate soldiers, many times by absorbing untrained but motivated civilians.

Lt. Kamidze looked on. He had his men firing and changing positions constantly to maintain ever changing angles of fire from all sides of the encircled enemy. Some men popped smoke in a few random places and even got close enough to throw grenades at the outskirts of the enemy's position. All this added to the illusion of overwhelming numbers. In fact the Kocobars were numbering of a force of only 190 roughly. What they did have in excess however was ammunition. And lots of it. These had been stored in the villages occupied by the soldiers-turned-guerrillas for quite some time. Motorcycle pages had been dispatched prior to the launch of the attack to nearby friendly positions in order to bring up more troops as well as their Doomani-made shoulder held SAMs which had proved effective enough to disrupt enemy air operations in the air until this attack.

The symphony (if it could be called that, in reality it went more along the lines of a train full of cracker-bombs derailing) of small arms fire and shouts with the occasional roar of tank cannon continued until these too were drowned out at least temporarily by a series of sharp bangs which reverberated in the mountains, although heavily muffled upon return by the heavy tree cover. Lt. Kamidze had ordered to a subordinate officer to round up as many rocketeers and recoilless riflemen as he could find and get them into a position to simultaneously attack one of the enemy tanks. Time was of the essence and enemy air power would be upon them soon with their anti air site taken out. In a span of several seconds over a dozen rocket propelled grenades and artillery shells fired from recoilless rifles streaked towards one of the Velkien heavy tanks all along one of its sides. Overwhelming the enemy armor's CIWS systems wasn't the actual motive behind this tactic, rather it was killing a tank as quickly as possible, but.. who was complaining.

There was a loud bang and more shouts. The small arms fire which had died down just after the rocket attack began to regain its momentum. The Kocobar fighters could see the heavy weapons attack and this was a morale booster. Plus they knew they had the enemy surrounded. They all had a good feeling of which way the skirmish was going. After getting their asses kicked for the whole war this was a good change of pace. As the make-shift squad of anti-tank fighters melted back into the woods and hills around the enemy position the others continued to advance, slowly closing their enclosure of the enemy.

Then something happened. Lt. Kamidze looked up at the sky. Jets. "Get down! Get down! Airplanes!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. As the Skyian jets passed over the forest filled with smoke. He couldn't see the enemy's position where it was clear as day a moment before. His men continued their advance and a fighter came up behind him, panting, "Sir! News sir!"
"What is it?" replied the Lieutenant. "The thrity-sixth is on its way sir."
"Praise Allah" said Kamidze.

The Next Day
250km off Yuslevakia's Coast
HMS Terrapin

As the Terrapin turned slowly into the wind, she raised an extra ensign from her stern: the Harovenian flag, crudely but accurately constructed that afternoon in one of the ship's myriad repair docks. It was night time and the flag was barely visible, but the act itself was more important. The Questarian Empire had been contacted by an ally in distress, and despite the elected Government being more rational than many if its allied counterparts, real-politik never stood in the way of age old friendships. Harovenia was no exception, and as the first jets kicked off the deck of the Royal Navy carrier, their engines flaring in the night sky, Op Scabbard began.

Ferrying aircraft to Harovenia was not the Terrapin's only task - the replenishment ship R.156 sped up and passed through the aircraft carrier's watchful eye. When it arrived in Yuslevakia, it would deliver the first Questarian aid package to another of its Balkan friends - four hundred ATC-50 CSOWs and the same number of AIC-50 CSOWs.

Sittin' here, eatin' my heart out waitin'
waitin' for some lover to call
dialed about a thousand numbers lately
almost rang the phone off the wall

Indeed, Flight Lieutenant Jeff Thompson did consider himself hot stuff as he sped along the Yuslevakian countryside at two thousand kilometres per hour in his De Havilland Dauntless F.3 of No.566, Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm. They had already been provided with Harovenian bank accounts in which the Questarian Government had injected a large amount of money for them to spend in their off-duty time. Surely, if war were to start, then the expeditionary defenders of Harovenia ought to have at least some special priveleges...

Barely an hour later they touched down in Harovenia; Krobrglovski Aerodrome, and although Thompson himself did not know how to pronounce it, evidently his Squadron Leader did - or at least had made some sort of attempt, because they were soon touching down on the tarmac. Harovenian television was covering the event, and any Harovenians watching the news at that time would see the sixteen Dauntless aircraft with their Questarian flags on the tail taxi in and come to a halt on the Aerodrome. Any Questarian involvement was strictly denied.

Two hours later, sixteen Hawker Calcutta GR.3 aircraft arrived too; and they brought their weapons with them, anti-runway and cluster munitions attached faithfully to their sturdy fuselage. This was the first, and probably the only expeditionary forces that would arrive, as others would simply arrive and be handed over to Harovenia for use, but the Questarian pilots that arrived this day would be doing front-line fighting under the Harovenian flag.

Kachanyk
Morning

The Questarian Ambassador to Kachanyk was hardly a high ranking diplomat - in fact, the Consulate was a mere ten men who organised tourism and various trade deals, and so when he received the one-time stamp letter from Jesselton asking him to contact the Kocoban Government and ask them if they required assistance fighting the invaders, he honestly had no idea where to start. He had almost no contacts and making new ones would be hard, especially secretly, as he assumed that Kachanyk would be full of spies or else people willing to sell secrets to the enemy for money... So he wrote a letter to the Head of State himself, and delivered it personally, promising him that if Kocobo needed Questarian weaponry, it could be provided, as long as secure lines of contact were kept and the Kachanyk intelligence services worked to keep this deal as secret as possible.

Harovenian Border Zone, Ravenna, Californian Territory

It was only a few days after the beginning of the first combat air patrols along the border that air controllers aboard the lumbering EP-191B Aurora airborne early warning and command aircraft noticed as the number of contacts on the Harovenian side of the line increased, nearly doubling, to outnumber the loitering Pandora fighters. Pilot Officer Cooper and her flight, led by Lieutenant Manfred "Iron" Mann, approached their area of operations when the flight leader addressed the other three aircraft over the intercom, "Alpha-Eight Flight, this is Alpha-Eight Lead, Numbers one and three will be on station at ten kilo-mikes with two and four at five kilo-mikes, copy?"

"Copy that," Cooper replied as she broke off and dropped to 5,000 metres with her wingman as Mann took one of the others up to the higher altitude.

"Romeo Oscar Echo is still green this CAP," Continued the lieutenant, "But don't be afraid to come off aggressive to those Harvey birds over the line."

The Aequatian patrols had moved to within twenty kilometres from the border and would be sweeping the zone with their radar suites, lighting up the Harovenian warning receivers from time to time on their Za-25 Kobrusha interceptors. Cooper herself locked onto a pair of opposing fighters with her aircraft's APG-127 AESA Radar for a shot with her AIM-133A AMRAAMs, but only remained locked on the target for a quick moment, hoping to have the alert startle the Za-25 pilots. This practice would become normal procedure with the other patrols, hoping that the less disciplined air service would turn and fire first on the Aequatian fighters, and allow the aircraft to brush the older aircraft aside.

As the air patrols continued on the border, flights of low-visibility MQ-20E Shade unmanned aerial vehicles would penetrate the border in between dusk and dawn to allow for the best chance to run undetected as the, for now, unarmed reconnaissance drones performed the vital mission of taking low-level, infrared images of movements made by ground forces and probing for enemy air defences and locations.

-----

Life had become rather well settled for both the 24th and 29th Mechanized Divisions in their positions watching the border, nearly a week since their arrival in Ravenna, many of the highly-motivated soldiers were caught off guard by the fact that they were not thrown into a fight immediately. The few patrols closer to the border had afforded them little more than added mileage to their armoured vehicles. Satellite imagery and those provided by the Air Force drones informed the army intelligence personnel of the Harovenian formations relocating to the border zone, but they had concealed themselves well in the local vegetation. It was due to this fact that the reconnaissance elements of the 29th Infantry Division were called forth to conduct missions closer and even across the border than any of the regular force patrols.

The 29th Infantry Division, despite being a "legacy" mechanized force, contained a full cavalry squadron for strict reconnaissance and screening roles. Third Squadron, 57th Cavalry Regiment and their personnel prepared themselves for the coming missions as the squadron's commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Amanda Grabowski, briefed her staff officers in the unit's headquarters. Her black service beret was adorned with the Cavalry Corps badge with the Corps' motto of Audax et Celer imprinted on the sterling silver badge, "Division has called for us to get a better idea of what the Harvies have on their side of the line, so I want the three troops broken down into separate patrols and assigned their own zones along the division's area of responsibility.

Only Challenger Troop will go across the border, given that they have the air assets to do so, the other three ground elements will run along the line and prepare to drop one-twenty rounds across from the mortar carriers to support C Troops operations."

The officer in command of C Troop, Major Thomas Reese, spoke as he looked over the map, "That's a lot of ground to cover for a single troop, but I'll break down my platoons into tasked patrols. Is there a chance I can get support from the fourth brigade?" He asked, referring to the division's aviation brigade.

"Four brigade has informed me that I could chop off two pink teams to help," Replied Grabowski, "So you'll have Corvus and Akelas on hand for support from the air, along with your own Bagheeras."

The briefing continued for another half hour before it broke and the officers returned to their units as they prepared for the coming mission. The engineers had cleared a small heliport and laid down steel plating at third brigade's position to allow for operations by C Troop's helicopters. Major Reese walked with his headquarters section and another of the patrols as they approached the waiting flight line of C Troop's UH-96G light helicopters. They wore the standard "Airborne" pattern uniforms given their airmobile status, but with customizations made for their traditional cavalry regiment. The troopers wore the standard issue combat boots and battle dress utility uniforms in the Army's digital pattern, over top of the uniform the troopers wore the issue rain and windproof Airborne Pattern jump smock underneath the Defender Pattern Modular Assault Vest which was loaded with the usual pouches for ammunition and tools, while canteens, medical kits and issued sidearms were attached to the M1988 Pattern tactical belt and the canvas OD107 shade M1964 "Butt-packs" hanging on the belt.

Boarding the helicopters and closing the side doors to shield against the light rainfall that was falling at that time, the cavalry troop was in the air towards the border as the ground units took up their own positions and prepared the firebases with the squadron's 120mm mortars divided equally along the area of responsibility. Each platoon of C Troop was broken down into small teams, dividing the troop's four platoons into a dozen "patrols" which were now being hauled to selected landing zones a few kilometres across the border by the low-flying helicopters under cover of the foul weather and low-light conditions that afforded the well-trained aviators an advantage in their penetration.

Hamlet of Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo
Spear Flight

"Smoke run worked! Hopefully it last long enough for those velkyans to take a breather and get organized." Cheered O'Riley as his flight turned back towards the action. "Jacobs," O'Riley yelled to the third plane in the flight, "you and Johnson are clear to engage targets at will, me and Negrete will neutralize the caves."

"Roger that!"

As O'Riley glanced at his displays, the UAV was designating six caves for destruction while the Velkyans were lasing a few more. "Negrete, cover me, we'll make two passes to neutralize the targets." came the order from O'Riley. "Yes sir, covering your six."

O'Riley flicked a switch and selected his AGM-12D's. Their laser seekers locking onto the beams from the UAV. O'Riley leveled out and pressed the trigger. "Missiles away!" He yelled as the six missiles streaked away towards the caves. Their thermobaric warheads would smash enemy infantry, vehicles, and destroy the cave entrances with the overpressure.

Meanwhile the other two A-6GC's spread havoc through the Kocoban lines as their 33mm rotary cannons spat out thousands of lethal shells per minute.

Kaugrade, Armed Republic of Yuslevakia

High Marshall Juozas Vytautas had been unable to sleep for the past two days with the Aequatian/Skyian/Velkyan invasion of neighboring Kocobo. Incidentally to this, Vytautas and every other good patriotic Slev considered Kocobo to be sovereign Yuslevak soil, as it had been for the past eighty years. It was in that region that an Orthodox Slev army had crushed a Muslim army in 1563, effectively bringing about the end of Muslim rule in the area and beginning what was to be a long history of animosity between the Slevs and Kocobars, who were not particularly fond of the religion of their Kocobar subjects. This ethnic tension had led to the Kocobar declaration of independence earlier in the year, which had driven Yuslevak army units from Kocobar territory.

Vytautas had predicted that it would not be long before imperialistic foreigners began infringing upon Glorious Yuslevakian Soil; his own Glorious Fascist Patriarchy was more threatened than it had ever been, even more so than when the various ethnic regions had declared their independence. He had not been concerned with Chruatians or Kocobars marching on Kaugrade; he was now extremely concerned about an Aequatian mechanized corps suddenly deciding to force democracy upon his people.

Luckily, Yuslevakia had found friends in its latest trial: the Questarian Empire was quite sympathetic to his fascist regime, and had supplied the Karines, the Yuslevak Republican Air Force, with a number of advanced air superiority fighters as well as advisors to train in their usage. The Imperium Doomanum, sympathetic to their Christian brothers whom they saw as under threat from Muslim infidels, had been most generous in financial and arms contributions; in fact, the entire Kadukas, Vytautas' elite Republican Guard, were entirely Doomani-trained, and the Yuslevak air defense grid had recently received an influx of advanced Doomani surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft guns (although it was also true that Harovenia was receiving similar aid from Doomanum, being the proper monarchy it was).

Vytautas saw in this foreign incursion the opportunity to rid himself of a serious nuisance: with the Kocobar army tied up fighting the Aequatians, Velkyans, and Skyians, he could now move on the ethnic Kocobar enclave of Siynik, which lay just fifty miles north of the capital of Yuslevakian capital of Kaugrade, well within Yuslevak territory.

The region had retained a great degree of autonomy to the point where it had repelled earlier attempts by the Badrumas to reassert fascist authority (although they had been successful in retaking a portion of the region; the Siynikans could no longer fire rockets into Kaugrade at will as they had early on). With much of the army tied up guarding the borders against incursions from ethnic insurgents, this relatively peaceful pocket of resistance had remained somewhat untouched, although it was most certainly in a state of siege. Everyone once in awhile the Bardrumas would send a volley of 122mm rockets screaming into a Siynikan village if only to remind them of their current situation.

Now things would be different.

The elite Juriska Regiment of the Kadukas had been fully replenished after having to fight its way through the territory of five other former Yuslevakian republics and was now ready to reassert the authority of Kaugrade over Siynik. Supported by a Badrumas artillery regiment well-stocked with 152mm field guns and 122mm multiple launch rocket systems along with a good deal of Karines air support reserved, there would be little to hold them back now, especially given the relative scarcity of ammunition in Siynik following the three previous botched attempts to retake the province. Another two Badrumas motor rifle divisions (including the 18th Motor Rifle Division, which had failed on three seperate occasions to retake the region (resulting in the execution of three of its commanders by firing squad for treason)) were also being placed in reserve for use once the Kadukas had achieved a consorted breakthrough in Siynik.

Colonel Tomas Kolnas was a national hero after having lead the Juriska through those rebellious regions, and bringing half of the original three thousand men home alive. Where Vytautas had lost popularity due to his inability to prevent the Yuslevakian state from breaking apart, Kolnas had gained popularity from massacring tens of thousands of ethnic Chruatian, Solbedonian, Kocobar, Ulbonian, Harovenian, Ventrillor, and Skradinian civilians and soldiers in cold blood on his way through those various former republics. It was the one thing that Yuslevakia had going for it during that clusterfuck of a war.

Now he was being called upon to bring the Siynikan traitors back under Yuslevakian rule. This would be a very popular war, whether or not it went swiftly; it would give the Yuslevakian people a purpose. They could all now point at an enemy that they could bring under their control in a realistic manner, someone to reap vengeance upon for past transgressions.

Overall, ninety tanks had been assembled for this push into Siynik: brand new (or freshly refurbished) Ku.87BM2 main battle tanks fitted with imported forward looking infrared, radios, 125mm smoothbore guns, laser range finders, and digital electronics as well as indigenously designed explosive reactive armor, the finest of Vytautas' tanks, as well as some one hundred and twenty ISW.84 wheeled armored personnel carriers and an untold number of trucks, all crammed full of well-drilled Kadukas infantry. Some two days after the landing of NCON and NATO troops, Yuslevakian tanks began to roll into war-torn, abandoned Siynikan villages (seized by the Badrumas in previous conflicts in the region), which would serve as their assembly areas.

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A platoon of Yuslevakian Ku.85BM2 main battle tanks occupies an abandoned Siynikan village.

Roadblocks that had been established along the main roads leading into the enclave following the last Siynikan conflict, manned by poorly trained Badrumas troops in their olive drab uniforms and Zy.57 assault rifles, were bolstered by Kadukas troops in their distinctive camouflage uniforms and, in many cases, balaclavas, and Zy.57M assault rifles. The Siykinians were more than aware of the coming storm; villages were buzzed by Za-25s (http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j118/ChevyRocks/YuslevakianF-75A.png) and Za-19s (http://img442.imageshack.us/img442/2355/yuslevakiadp21ehb8.png) carrying leaflets urging people to remain in their homes and to leave all firearms in the middle of the street or risk being shot as a traitor to the Yuslevakian Republic, and on three separate incidents, cars had been strafed by Yuslevak fighters traveling on roads between the villages, resulting in eleven fatalities and several dozen wounded.

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Kadukas soldier armed with a 3M1 machinegun mans a roadblock in Siynik.

Rocket attacks on Siynikan villages had also been stepped up. Villagers would note that there were now some three volleys a day, and thermobaric fuel air explosive rockets were now being mixed in with the other high explosive and submunition carrying rockets. Although used to being bombarded on a regular basis, this latest escalation was simply shocking: thermobaric weapons, which were rightly feared by the Siynikans for the agonizing and effective manner in which they killed, had not been used in six months, when elements of the 18th Motor Rifle Division had attempted to subjugate the Siykinians. The amount of rockets used in each volley had also seemingly been stepped up as evidenced by the length of the bombardments. Villages once teeming with activity had now been reduced to ash.

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Yuslevak Army Kruša rocket launcher firing on a Siynikan village.

Hamlet of Kaimas, outside Yuslevakian capital Kaugarde

"Fuck, this country sucks." Sergeant Micheal Rasmussen took a drag on his cigarette, leaning against a LY83 transport. He along with his unit, the 121st Infantry Battalion, had been in-country for three weeks, and already it was getting old. "Yeah I know what you mean Rasmussen," his friend and squadmate Corporal Carl Sandburg replied, shouldering his AVIR assault rifle. "At least the Harovenians were somewhat friendly. These fuckbaits hate our existence."

"Yeah, but still we have a job to do." That job was protecting the Hryvinian Red Cross relief convoys distributing food and medical supplies to the region. For some unknown reason, the Yuslevaks had taken to attacking that which helped them, and Royal Marines under the banner of peace had been called to keep order and attempt to preserve peace.

Suddenly, the voice of the platoon commander, Lt. Sven Magnusson, carried through the bivouac where they were sitting. "Saddle up boys, we've got a city to pacify." With that, the soldiers unshouldered their rifles and jumped onto the nearest truck, starting the ride to the town.

"Holy shit, what happened here?" This question came from Sgt. Rasmussen, riding in the back of a top-down LY83 at the head of the convoy. The town, a peaceful, picturesque village only yesterday was now unrecognizable. Several buildings had been burned, and a makeshift gallows constructed in the town square. Lined up awaiting their deaths were several people spanning all ages, some sobbing uncontrollably. Instinctively, the soldiers dismounted, clicking their rifles from "safe" to "burst."

Lt. Magnusson motioned for his people to stay put while he walked toward the person seemingly responsible for the chaos. With as civil a tone as possible, he inquired in Yuslevak as to what was going on.

"You there, what is happening? Who are these people and what is their crime?"

"They are the town Jews, and they have poisoned the well and brought war to our beloved Kaimas," came the response.

"Bullshit. Release them at once," Sven replied in a harsher tone. The townspeople, hearing the manner in which this foreigner addressed their mayor, began advancing towards the platoon with weapons ranging from Zy.57s to pitchforks. From appearances, this was not going to turn out well for the Hryvinians.

Kaimas, Yuslevakia

Such pogroms occured ever few years; in this case the shops and houses of the Jews had been burned and the men and boys had been dragged out for execution, the women standing off the the side and weeping uncontrollably. Mayor Mykolas appeared to be absolutely infuriated by the conduct of these foreigners who were now attempting to circumvent Yuslevak justice. Barking orders in Slev, men in civilian clothing began to take up positions in the windows and doorways of nearby buildings all around the peacekeepers, brandishing Zy.57s and sub machineguns of various makes, training them on the Hryvinians.

Three pickup trucks with MGM heavy machineguns mounted on the beds and six uniformed Badrumas soldiers each pulled up out of nowhere behind the platoon, the soldiers exiting out and taking cover behind the trucks, their rifles trained on the Hyrovenians. Several of the men had RPGs, which were now trained on the Hryvinian vehicles, and it was now clear that several of the villagers were equipped with rifle grenades.

A mob in front of them, marksmen in the buildings all around them, and soldiers with heavy machineguns at their backs, the Hryvinians were in quite a pickle.

"It would be most wise for you to turn over your weapons, Lieutenant. NOW!" Mylokas barked in broken English

"Oh, fuck," Rasmussen muttered to himself, idly noting to kick his CO's ass if they got out alive. "Sir, I think we're pretty fucked here," he shouted ahead to Magnusson, who was seemingly unconcerned by his milkrun being surrounded by hostile forces. Micheal, for his part, was already thinking about how they could avoid being captured, or worse killed. It was known (at least in enlisted Marine circles) that Yuslevaks desecrated enemy dead as a warning to other foreigners.

Meanwhile, Magnusson was looking over the village, slowly coming to the realization that his forces were fucked. Negotiations would do little good in this situation, as the Mayor was quite adamant about their surrender. Seeing little alternative, he raised his gun and shot the mayor square in the chest, kicking off the firefight that was going to happen anyhow. No sooner had he done this than a bullet from one of the many armed men struck him in the head, killing him instantly.

Shouting orders to the men and obscenities at the Yuslevaks, Sgt. Rasmussen assumed command, hopping down from his perch on the LY83 seconds before it was destroyed by an RPG. Soldiers taking cover behind the Red Cross vehicles found little shelter as RPGs reduced them to flaming heaps, killing those hiding behind them. His force decimated, Rasmussen grimly gave the order he knew would likely result in the deaths of his men. "Platoon, stand down," he barked, dropping his AVIR and TDX pistol and raising his hands in surrender. His men followed suit, waiting for the worst. As he saw it, there were two good outs: a quick, painless death or liberation by one of the various nations in-country. For obvious reasons, he hoped for the latter. The final toll of what was about a five minute firefight was fifteen Hryvinians dead, and ten more to be taken prisoner of war.

Twenty-six villagers lay dead or wounded around the ruined vehicles. Many of the villagers hadn't even been armed with firearms, or at all. As such, the village of Kaimas as a whole was very, very angry at the Hryvinians, who had now placed themselves at their mercy. The entire mob converged on the remaining marines, siezing their weapons and proceeding to beat them down with clubs and rifle butts. Not even the wounded were shown compasion; shots soon began to ring out, cutting their lives short.

The remaining marines were on the recieving ends of extremely severe beatings by as many as ten people at a time. Luckily for them, sirens sounded in the distance and an armored car carrying a squad of Svarinti paramilitary police in their khaki uniforms rolled up behind the mob, who quickly backed off of the bloodied bodies. The Hryvinians had been beaten to a pulp; of the original twenty-five, just six were still alive, those men in critical condition.

"Jesus Christ what the fuck happened here..." the lead Svarinti man muttered. "Get on that fucking radio and call for an ambulance!" he barked in Slev to the driver of the armored car.

On the way to the hospital, two of those six would die of massive internal bleeding, leaving just four survivors, who the Yuslevakian doctors would be able to save...

The Marines were helpless to prevent their slaughter, and many with their last words cursed the CO who had gotten them into this mess. The four remaining soldiers were loaded into ambulances, not knowing whether they would be killed or treated (one could never truly tell with these types of nations). What would happen was uncertain, though they would soon find out.

"Holy fuck, what happened?" Rasmussen came to at last, having blacked out from the beating he received. His head hurt like hell, as did most of him. Surveying his surroundings, he was pleased to discover that four of his people were still alive, but dismayed to find he was handcuffed to his bed and under armed guard. "Oh good, you're up," one of the other soldiers, a private, said. "Where the hell are we Private Kohler?," Rasmussen asked in a slightly irritated tone. "That I can't answer for sure, though from the look of it, a military hospital. The four of us are all that's left, the Yukes beat the rest of us to death." At this, Rasmussen wasn't surprised. After all, he had expected to be killed himself, and they did break in on local justice. Taking charge, he sat up as much as his injuries and restraints would allow and began addressing his men.

"Alright, any intel you have on this hospital, cough up now."

"We've figured out we've been here about a week. There's at least 30 people here, docs included. None of the guards speak English, and from what we can gather we're only tied up as a formality. Problem is, none of us have seen anything outside this room so we have no idea how to get out."

"Well, I guess we're pretty fucked then. Bastard CO," Rasmussen spat. "If he wouldn't have tried to play the hero none of us would be here."

[Hamlet of Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo]

Infantrymen cheered as their Skyian comrades brought hell down upon the previously imposing Kocoboan defenders. Pure heat and shock waves from the detonations of the submunitions washed over the embattled Velkyan lines, causing the crew of the M98A3 "Unforgiving Desperado" to grip their control stations as waves of newly amassed adrenaline flowed through their veins. Through the thick potassium chlorate smoke, little was visible outside of the odd poorly aimed tracer or rocket propelled grenade piercing the curtain to impact harmlessly in the center of the ruined village. The solution to this question of visibility, of course, was to go digital. Within moments, the rough tans and greens of the smoky battlefield melded into the monochromatic spectrum of forward looking infrared, and all became visible.

Alongside the tank, a recoilless rifle team took the time to rearm their 84 mm weapon, sliding a fresh thermobaric rocket into the smoky breech before resealing it. A nearby fire team, consisting of four unscathed mountaineers and a fifth fatality, lay low to the ground, their battle rifles covering the entrances to the momentarily closed entrances. They too had switched to their electro-optical flip-down goggles, adjusting the sensitivity of the sensors to avoid as much solar interference as possible. Squad leaders, momentarily immune (at least, relatively) to the threat of enemy marksman, rushed between the spaced out and thinned out Velkyan forces, shouting orders in an attempt to distribute and he maximize their already shrunken reserves of firepower. Medics performing triage operations were ordered to remove ammunition from the grievously wounded and dead, redistributing it amongst the living to shore up ammunition reserves. Such tactics may be perceived as barbaric by the pampered civilian eye, but to those who have lived through the madness of modern warfare, such brutality is simply relative.

In the center of the town, in the cellar of a burnt out villa, the platoon's wireless team continued to coordinate action between the handful of local forward observers and various fire support assets in the vicinity. Having already raised a strike package of Skyian ground attack craft, these overworked but determined men attempted now to enlist the aid of a Velkyan fire support gunship squadron based out of the newly repaired airstrip at Buinsk, a medium sized town located a few hundred kilometers to the southeast. The gunships, converted transport airframes equipped with auto-cannons and howitzers (as well as all the necessary optics and electronics), were a close air support coordinator's wet dream, able to deliver punishing amounts of firepower precisely where the ground troops needed them.

Several thousand meters overhead, Velkyan unmanned aerial vehicles, nearly invisible with their sky shaded camouflage schemes and minimal infrared signatures, began to actively observe the Kocoboan positions, peering through the smoke with their advanced passive sensory arrays and down-feeding the data to network equipped Velkyan soldiers on the ground, as well as local artillery support units. Illuminating the momentarily confused Kocoboans with infrared spectrum targeting lasers, the UAVs paved the way for precision artillery strikes previously unavailable due to the dominating positions the Kocoboans possessed on the ridge line.

Miles away, tucked safely in well defended fire bases, towed 155 mm howitzer batteries began their punishing assault, sending wave after wave of laser guided artillery shells into Kocoboan positions. Velkyan soldiers were ordered to keep low during the bombardment, a command they had unsurprisingly obeyed hours before it had been issued. By this time, the smoke had begun to clear, and with it, the temporary veil of immunity it guaranteed. Making last minute defensive preparations (including laying their inventories of directional anti-personnel mines around their positions to ward off close assaults by enemy infantry), the Velkyans, numbering now one ninety four men out of an original one hundred twenty, prepared to make their stand, for the first time eager to see what foul creatures would crawl out of the firestorm. Rifles charged, cannons loaded, they awaiting the enemy with a strange lust not known to these professional soldiers, a lust for battle, a lust for war, and a lust for carnage.

It would be only a little while longer now.

[posting as Kocobo]

As the smoke began to clear the sky began to fall. There were a dozen intense flashes of light followed immediately after by sonic bangs like a giant clapping a pair of over sized pans together. Trees fell and earth rained down on the troops from the sky. Volunteers began to run after the first few shells hit but the troops from the Kocobar Army stayed put, keeping their heads down. The fire didn't stop and the shells were landing too close for comfort. Lt. Kamidze gave the order to pull back and widen their perimeter around the enemy positions in the ruins. The highly uneven highland terrain (just 600 meters ahead of his position, past the ruins was a 250 meter drop into the valley below where the River Jhir coursed through) and the total forest cover meant he wouldn't have to worry too much about precision artillery or air strikes, but the frantic and uneven spread of enemy firepower meant keeping their distance went without saying.

With the way the skirmish had been going up until this point, the Velkyans had no idea exactly where the enemy was. For all intents and purposes they were everywhere and no where and numbered at least battalion strength. The reality was very different as a company sized force fired and kept on the move creating this illusion. As a result the enemy had called in fire support all around their position, almost blindly. Artillery shells from howitzers and gunships punished the mountainside with impunity and laid bare much of the cover that had lent itself to the Kocobars. With no other choice Kamidze's men had to retreat. At least two dozen men had been killed in the initial bombardment and this only to the fact that they had been dispersed and the enemy didn't know exactly where they were. Besides, every hill and valley looked just like every other hill and valley in these damned mountains.

Kamidze had retreated 80 meters from where he stood only minutes before. His old headquarters consisting of a conveniently placed tree stump-made-desk was a smoking black crater. He ordered his officers to maintain the wider perimeter and for God's sake to keep suppressive fire on the enemy.

The pop pop pop of sporadic gun fire continued on as it had before but now with the rushes of heat and the organ pounding shock waves. A fighter pointed towards the enemy position and yelled at a group of men firing and caught a bullet in his shoulder. The idiot shouldn't have exposed himself so much. Another fighter helped him off his feat and escorted him to the rear where a medic would look after him and tell him to get back to the fight. A line of tracers swept the area in front of them like lasers from star wars. Bits of dirt and wood flew everywhere.

The fight wasn't going well for him now. Kamidze knew it and gritted his teeth. They weren't taking heavy casualties but they were constantly forced to keep their heads low. He pulled over a radio man and made him see if any air support was available. Right now a pair of F-4 phantoms was what they needed to turn the tide back in their favor. A few seconds later he had his reply: air support was unavailable. Every available fighter in the area was either out of commission or already on a mission against enemy aircraft and ground positions. He didn't have any helicopters either. However what he did have was reinforcements. Infantry with heavier weapons...

Kareem, Abdul, and Jabbar (who coincidently all happened to be black basketball players) finished priming a set of explosives around a group of trees on the far side of another hill, north east of the skirmish, and about little over a kilometer and a half away. They held their ears and a blast created an instant clearing in the dense woods. They immediately began setting up two mortars and took out an old army map of the area. Within a few minutes they were ready to fire and a chain of young men and teenage boys, the youngest being fifteen, brought up artillery shells. In time more men and mortars would be sent up but for now this was all that was available. Kareem and Jabbar set up their mortars and Abdul dropped the round in. Holding the shell just over the barrel he would say Allahu Akbar, followed by a loud poof, as the round shot out.

Allahu Akbar .. Poof! [goes to the other mortar] Allahu Akbar .. Poof! [goes back to the first mortar] Allahu Akbar .. Poof!, Allahu Akbar .. Poof!, Allahu Akbar .. Poof!

Kamidze's men now had some light artillery landing on the enemy or hopefully near to them. An gunshipborne howitzer shell annihilated one man and the commander wondered where the hell his shoulder held SAMs and heavy AAA were.

HIMCS Sevile
Ambrose Sea, Kocobo Bay

"Admiral on deck!"

As if in unison at least thirty boots came to the steel bulkhead floor in a forceful chorus of footsteps, however were stopped as the man in white raised his hand and softly said 'at ease.'

"Are things going according to schedule?", the elderly man, around sixty years of age, asked as his dark gray eyebrows descended upon his forehead.
"Aye, sir.", his executive officer said without taking his eyes away from the view ahead through the forward windows. "The Marines are about to begin their landings right on schedule."

Admiral Harold Elrin, commanding officer of Task Force Yuslevakia which was composed of the Sevile's own ninth battleship squadron and two carrier battle groups, clasped his hands behind his back. A grin formed tightly upon his elderly lips, and he lowered his eyes to a map that sat before him.

"Excellent. Call the Aequatians up and determine exact landing orders and positions. Ideally we'll have at least a thousand Marines on the ground almost immediately."
"Aye, sir.", his XO replied as he motioned to the communications officer on the bridge who had heard the Admiral's orders.
"In the meantime," the Admiral said wearily, "I'll be in my office coordinating with Laurana. Call me if I'm needed."
"Aye, sir. I'll keep the phone ready."

The elderly man performed a crisp turn on his heel, and proceeded to exit the command deck of the Laurana-class vessel.

*********************

Offices of the Imperial Department of Intelligence
Laurana, Cravan

The brown envelope crashed down on the oak surface with great force, buckling under pressure as its contents attempted to force their way out of the folder through the tied off end.

"Is this everything?", Director Haysley asked while looking up at the dark figure who had thrown the sensitive materials down upon the desk.
"Yes, Madame Director.", the man replied. "If you need anything else give a call over to the archives, I'm sure they might have something."

Director of Intelligence Jennifer Haysley removed the securing string from the folder as the man left, taking care to ensure the contents did not spill out as she carefully sifted through the files. At first glance they were mostly satellite photos and the like, however there were also numerous reports and accounts of agents and journalists deployed to the Former Yuslevakian region.

Perfect, she remarked to herself. This is exactly what Annadale asked for.

Lifting the receiver of the black phone on her desk to her ear, Haysley punched in the pound button and three numbers, directly linking her to the communications office.

"Hi, Bill? Yeah, I have something I'm going to send down right now. I want a copy made of every file in it and I want it forwarded to our forces in the Ambrose."
"Gotcha, Jenn, I'll have it out within the hour."
"Thanks, Bill.", she replied, resting the receiver back down. She signaled her secretary in via intercom and handed her the papers, instructing her where to take them. Sighing with relief as her secretary left the office, Haysley checked the computer monitor which sat to the right side of her desk as the calendar on her computer desktop chimed at her with the message "MEETING WITH ANNADALE/PRESS CONFERENCE" flashing in bold letters. Haysley rose from her desk, locking her computer and grabbing her coat from the rack in the corner of her office. Grabbing her keys from a serving dish on a table which rested against the wall adjacent to her desk, she made her way out into the hallway and down towards the sub-level parking garage.

Let's just hope this meeting goes better than most when there's a shitstorm going on.

*****************

FLASH PRIORITY MSG TO AEQUATIAN COMMAND; KOCOBO THEATRE OF OPERATIONS
ENCRYPTION LVL BC-1

CONFIRMATION ON FINALIZED LANDING POSITIONS FOR CRAVANIAN MARINE FORCES REQUESTED.STOP.LANDING SHIPS CURRENTLY MANEUVERING INTO POSITION FROM FLEET.STOP.WILL COMMENCE LANDING OPERATIONS UPON CONFIRMATION OF LANDING POSITIONS AND POSSIBLE ENEMY POSITIONS IN AREA OF OPERATIONS.STOP.UPON LANDING CRAVANIAN MARINES WILL PROCEED TO JOIN WITH JOINT NATO-NCON FORCES IN REGION.STOP.COMBAT AIR PATROLS CURRENTLY LAUNCHING FROM CARRIER FORCES.STOP.WILL ASSIST ALLIED AIR FORCES IN PROVIDING AIR SUPERIORITY AND STRIKE OPERATIONS.END

[Airspace over Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo]

The endless drone of the gunships' four turboprop engines reverberated through the aircrafts cabin, producing a slight but constant vibration that the aircrews deployed on such craft quickly became oblivious to. Flying a lazy but fuel efficient orbit around the ruins of the village, the AC-53F 'Lady Jay' began to dip her gunship gray airfoils towards the hills overlooking her embattled comrades. Cruising at an mean altitude of seven thousand meters, her electro-optical sensory operators began to actively search for targets among the suspected enemy positions, peering through the smoking and charred forests with thermal and infrared imaging systems.

Master Sergeant Josef Karanski was the first to sight a target. Switching to white-hot mode (his personal preference when operating the forward looking infrared), he immediately tracked a group of around a half dozen Kocoboan fighters in the open. The men were half running, half fighting their way towards a pockmarked rock formation about thirty meters to their immediate west. He grinned.

First catch of the day.

He began to call through his headset into the closed circuit intercom network. There was a momentary crinkle of static before his rich Russian accent filled the ears of his twelve other crew-mates.

"Station one, this is imaging one, we've got hostile runners, switch to pom-pom and engage, over.

His request was answered by an obligatory yet somewhat eager enlisted gun crew a meter to his right. Even in such close proximity, the noises from both the engines and weapon systems could be deafening, thus necessitating the use of the aforementioned intercoms. A more formal response from the two thirty millimeter cannon operators followed.

"Roger that, imaging, targets acquired, engaging."

Even over the din of the unmuffled turboprops, the distinctive drone of a twin-barreled M62A1 auto-cannon filled the cabin, accompanying by the sharp plinking caused by dozens of spent and smoking casings bouncing off the metallic deck of the gunship's interior. Thick acrid smoke filled Josef's nostrils, stinging them, but he didn't notice or care. The adrenaline rush of combat washed over him, and he zoomed in on the troops, now obviously aware of that some terrible demon in the sky had spotted them. A snaking trail of bursting thirty millimeter shells followed them to the rock, likely showering them in torrents of lethal shrapnel and concussive force.

Satisfied with the amount of firepower levied unto the unfortunate militiamen, Josef turned his attention to a third droning, this one emanating from from his headset. His fire coordinator, an officer whose job was to communicate with dirtside forward air controllers and mediate their requests for fire support and forward them to the gun crews. His dry neutral Velkyan drawl matched his rather lackluster personality, but Josef couldn't complain. The man got the job done, after all.

"Station one, local FACs report hostile indirect fire zeroing in on their positions, downlinking the counter-battery feed from our MQ-5s now."

Orbiting overhead of the raging firefight were a trio of MQ-5 'Shade' recce drones, optimized for both passive surveillance and active designation of targets for fire support missions. One of the Shades, retrofitted with the AN/APQ-36 Arcminute airmobile counter-battery RADAR system, performed a sweep of the area, tracking a handful of enemy projectiles already in flight over the hills. Using their onboard computer systems, the UAVs calculated the trajectory and subsequent launching points of the mortar rounds, providing pinpoint coordinates to local fire support assets via encrypted AN/UYQ-32 datalink transceivers.

Moments later, Josef's aircraft shook with the deep thunder of a one hundred and twenty millimeter howitzer expelling its payload, this time a high explosive-incendiary shell, designed to combined traditional explosive heat and over-pressure with secondary inflammatory effects. The sun had begun to set behind the mountains of central Kocobo, allowing Josef to follow the tracer with his television displays as it exited the muzzle of the cannon, visually tracking it as it streaked closer to its target, a nearly invisible clearing in north of the hills. The tracer reached the clearing, blinking and then erupting into a brilliant flash, an ever-expanding fireball amongst the trees.

Josef felt a small amount of pity for whoever might have been in that clearing, but quickly pushed the thought of mercy out his mind. He had a veritable mountain of work ahead of him, and not an iota of it required that particularity of human emotion.

The state news service, Tiesa, soon began to broadcast images of what they were calling the 'Kaimas Massacre'. Footage of wounded villagers, which included women and children, was generously shown on the television, although Tiesa had made a point not to show the dead Hryvinians. It was all a matter of gaining international sympathy; showing only dead Slevs, victims of a purported massacre by a supposed peacekeeping force.

Details released by Tiesa were as follows: nineteen of Kaimas' citizens, all of whom were peacefully protesting an assault on the Yuslevak justice system by meddling foreigners who were attempting to free convicted murderers, were mercilessly gunned down, with another six being seriously wounded. These numbers included five women and nine children (although what was not shown was that seven of these children were in fact fifteen and sixteen year old boys who had put up armed resistance against the Hryvinians). An unknown number of Hryvinian soldiers were killed in a short small arms exchange provoked by the Hryvinians, who had fired the first shots, and four Hryvinians, wounded in the confrontation, had been taken prisoner, and were currently being treated by Yuslevakian doctors at an undisclosed location.

A statement by the foreign minister condemned Hryvinia and declared that the four captive marines would be put on trial for murder and be punished to the full extent of the law if found guilty.

In the meantime, the four prisoners were healing up nicely, and were scheduled to be moved from the hospital to Kaugrade Prison within a few days. There foreign reporters from select nations (Veritas reporters from Doomanum, reporters from Chevrokia, Space Union, and Zukariaa were all booked) would be allowed to film the captives to confirm that they were in fact still alive and being treated well (by Yuslevakian standards). Their trial was scheduled a week after that. The verdict of guilty had, of course, already been decided. Truth be told, the Hryvinians actualy had fired the first shot, and the first man killed in the exchange, the mayor of Kaimas, had been unarmed. That along with the civilian death toll (the government certainly wasn't admitting that any of them had been armed and was instead claiming that the Hryvinians had been defeated by a squad of Badrumas soldiers) would prove to be damning evidence.

Freiheit Naval Base, Kampferian Arguin
Out on the tarmac

The Aralonian built Genoard G650-600 thundered across the runway on Arguin. A fine piece of workmanship, it was more than capable of the cross-haven hauling for which it was taking on today. Although the day was quite hot on sunny Kampferian Arguin, the residents actually found it to be more suitable for flying on days like today, as there were fewer clouds in the sky. The pilots hoped such would be a sign of continued good luck until they reached home safely. Known to the residents of Kampfers and the locals as Arguin, its official name was Kampferian Arguin to reduce any confusion. A double-decker beast of a plane, it had originally been designed for passenger transport, however its long range coupled with its tri-deck storage areas had convinced the Kampferian government to buy a number of them for use as cargo planes. This specific number, in fact, had been adorned with the Red Cross, and the specific logo of the Kampferian Red Cross. Painted in white with a solid red stripe blazed down the middle, they had made the long trek from mainland Kampfers to Arguin in a relatively quick time thanks to them catching the jet stream about halfway through the journey. The next leg of their trip would be, for the majority, through international waterways in Kampfers, before they would make a slight jog over Barkozy before landing in Yuslevakia proper, the true owners of the region of Yuslevakia. They were currently under attack from numerous different nations, and the supplies that the Kampferian Red Cross was bringing would be well appreciated by both the civilian and military sectors in Yuslevakia. After all, everyone likes a good lunch.

The truly more economical route would have gone through Oltremare, but some of the planes needed to avoid any cargo screenings, and Arguin afforded them that opportunity. Eric Richtoff himself had called ahead and ensured that the planes would not be checked. The emergency rations of food, water, and some other sensitive materials could not be compromised by human hands. They would leave that to the Yuslevakians. After reaching the outskirts of Yuslevakia, the planes would branch off, each going to a different area of the nation. In this way, they would get the most widespread distribution of supplies the fastest. Certain pre-designated planes would head straight for Yuslevakian military airbases near the Ravennan border in order to get the soldiers a bit of a morale boost. After all, one set a dangerous precedent by letting non-Havenics take over a firmly Havenic nation such as Yuslevakia. Who would be next? Questers? Velkya? Kampfers? Such a thought would send shivers arching down the back of any true Kampferian.

It was such reasons that the Kampferian government had decided to aid the Yuslevakians. Although direct military assistance was unquestionably out of the picture, Richtoff had not yet ruled out discreet ops, including but not limited too special operation troops disrupting Aequatian logistical supply lines and limited support from nearby Kampferian bases in Hjetland and Arguin. For now, however, Kampfers had settled into a more relaxed mood, and was content with only providing the Yuslevakians with precious items that would likely become scarce over the next few weeks. Food. Water. Medical supplies. Occasionally a chemical warhead or two. All would be vital to the survival of the Yuslevakians, and the Kampferian government had taken every precaution necessary. Secure packing to reduce the danger of anything breaking. Everything was boxed inconspicuously. Everything would be unloaded and taken inside the bases, then distributed properly. With all the belongings scraped of any markings, they were virtually untraceable, and you'd have better luck threading a needle in a hurricane than pinning a discreet arms transfer on the Red Cross.

Kampfers Stadt, Kampfers
In the office of the Fuhrer

Meanwhile, Richtoff had a situation on his hands. It was not set in stone which way the precedent would fall, but either way it would be a step in the wrong direction for APOC-Gholgoth relations. On top of that, as Akimonad filled to the brim with Aequatian troops and Chevrokia continued to confirm reports of incoming mass transits to Holy Marsh, not to mention how The World Soviet Pact had allied itself to a nation in Gholgoth and NATO, all of the above combined to create a situation ready to burst open in east Haven. While Richtoff was not an advocate of war, he was by all means not one to be taken off guard. As such, he tapped out a hastily written not to the Doomani Caesar.

THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE IS ENCRYPTION LEVEL ZULU - EYES ONLY FUHRER AND RECIPIENT

[TO] Maximus III, Caesar of the IMPERIVM DOOMANVM
[FROM] The Neo-Prussian Parliamentary Dictatorship of Kampfers

The recent... activity in East Haven has me a little terse at the moment. I fear that the nation of Yuslevakia may trigger a war on an even greater scale than they can even imagine. You read the same alliance reports I do. If we stand pat, it only allows us to be strategically outmaneuvered. While I am not in favor of striking now, quite frankly, we can not sit still and let them surround us, or by the time we act it will be too late. We know that they can not fight us in their present state, so they seek to woo other nations over, nations like The World Soviet Pact, so that they will be better strengthened militarily and strategically when they make their move. APOC rules the waves and APOC rules the skies, but I fear for the safety of Havenic land. Letting Yuslevakia fall into Aequatian hands is a step in the wrong direction. APOC must begin to prepare.

[SIGNED]
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Fuhrer of Kampfers
Sovereign of Großkampfers

Defense Ministry
Krogstad
1400 Hours

"I want to know what the fuck happened in Kaimas last week!" This was the greeting that the Royal Hryvinian Military High Command got from Sverre IV, King-Emperor of Hryvinia as he slammed the door behind him.

"Sir, all we know is what the Yuke press release told us. The Marines fired the first shots, against unarmed civilians, and their entire platoon got killed or captured." General Erich Klein, commander-in-chief of the Royal Hryvinian Marine Corps, spoke first. "Your Majesty knows well enough how unreliable the state-run media over there is, so I doubt we're getting the whole truth. I've ordered the Battalion commander to return to Krogstad to face an inquiry. That's about all I can do unless we can get our POWs back."

Sverre took this all in slowly, pacing back and forth in the spacious command room of the Defense Ministry. "Getting our POWs back will be hard, but not impossible. What I'd like to avoid is the farce of a trial our boys will get from NATO and NCON. Best for Hryvinians to face Hryvinian justice, no?" On this point, there was unanimous agreement. What remained to be seen was the world reaction to the unfortunate events of Kaimas.

HM Ministry of Defense

On behalf of His Majesty, I wish to express my condolences to those Yuslevakian civilians who lost relatives in the events of 6 April 20XX, commonly known in their nation as the Kaimas Massacre. The actions of 2 Platoon, 121st Marine Battalion are utterly contrary to the ethos of a Hryvinian soldier. At this time a full investigation into the incident is being conducted by the Defense Ministry, and all who are culpable in this case will meet their justice.

To that end, we humbly request that the four surviving Marines be extradited to Hryvinia to face this inquiry. Please understand that this is not a means to pardon our soldiers, but rather to allow them their right to face native justice. HM Government is fully prepared to pay the fees associated with extradition, if it is deemed necessary.

Again, on behalf of His Majesty I wish to apologize for this unfortunate series of events.

Signed,
Rt. Hon. Walter Johansson
HM Minister of Defense

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Statement of the Armed Republic of Yuslevakia

While when dealing with less severe charges such as public exposure or petty theft the Armed Republic would be more than happy to extradite any Hryvinian citizen to recieve justice within their own nation, the fact is that the alleged crimes the individuals in question have commited are so severe as to require the application of sovereign Yuslevak justice. The Government of the Armed Republic assures the Hryvinian Kingdom that their citizens shall recieve a fair and completely unbiased trial by a jury of their peers, in accordance with the Yuslevakian legal system. You may rest assured that if these allegations should prove false that your citizens shall be released without further delay. However, should they be guilty of the crimes they are accused of commiting, they shall be punished to the full extent of the law.

Signed,

His Excellency Jurgis Andrius,
Foreign Minister of the Armed Republic of Yuslevakia

As 'quickly' as Barkozian forces moved in on Yuslevakia, they turned back. These sorts of military gaffes were quite common. Often a lower level officer would immediately react to a news report without instructing higher authorities, or at least that's what was said. Thankfully, progress was poor up to that point, and little damage was done, but still it took time for troops to move back into their bases, especially the contract men.

After the withdrawal, a statement was made over the radio by a member of the Republican Assembly.

It seems that one of our regional commanders ordered an attack into Yuslevakia. Let it be known that we do not condone this action and it has been ceased. We are currently investigating the incident to find responsibility and deal with those involved.

The Republican Assembly has raised funds as reparations to the government of the Armed Republic of Yuslevakia. This is to ease the suffering and assay any problems between this assembly and the government of Yuslevakia.

This Assembly also issues a stern warning against any nation seeking control over the Republic of Yuslevakia, any move against this nation will be regarded as a move against Barkozy itself and responded to accordingly. Thank you.

The Kampferian aircraft was not intercepted during its hop over Barkozy. There were aircraft passing by, but none seemed to at least turn and ID the aircraft. It was obvious that it was being allowed to pass.

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Akimonad joins Yuslevakian conflict
10-0 vote in Advisory Council

Kent, Akimonad -- Akimonad decided to join in the conflict that has embroiled the hotbed nations of the Yuslevakian area today. The government's press office released an official declaration that cited destabilization of the region as the main causus belli for joining.

"We seek to prevent further hostilities and end the current conflicts, no matter what the outcome may be," said Director of Press Affairs Andre Huffman. "To this end we will be participating as peacekeepers."

The Declaration went further, however, establishing a cooperative Exclusion Zone for the waters 500km from Yuslevakia up to its shores.

"All ships, regardless of allegiance, unless they belong to Aequatio, Barkozy or Ravenna, will be sunk and/or boarded on sight. The delivery of yet more supplies to fuel a destabilizing can and will be halted."

Air Superiority Raids were also announced, to be carried out in conjunction with Aequatian forces.

Domestic public opinion is somewhat divided, with many citizens paying little attention to what is seen as yet another war in the explosive Yuslevakian region.

**********
Kensington Island, 90km south of Akimonad

The main fleet in Barkozy Bay was sitting at anchor preparing for a patrol when new orders came in from the capital. They would find their patrol disrupted for the time being.

Within a few hours the fleet, which was largely prepared for deployment already, disembarked and made for middle of the bay. They were to begin enforcing the exclusion zone.

A telegram was wired to the Aequatians to inform them that assistance was ready.

[OOC: Orbat and such some other time when I have the time. And apologies for the cruddy last part but my time is running out. :/]

HM Ministry of Defense

Although I am loathe to hand over sons of Hryvinia to a strange system of law, you raise a valid point. If it is acceptable we wish to supply our convicted Marines with Hryvinian lawyers, as well as send a legal team to observe the trial for fairness.

Signed,
Rt. Hon. Walter Johansson
HM Minister of Defense

OOC: Not much else to write at this point, apologies for the short post.

Posting as Kocobo'

The explosion annihilated the mortars set up on the hill top. How on Earth the enemy spotted this newly created position so quickly and in the midst of the evolving skirmish was a testament to how many resources were invested in this operation. As the smoke cleared from the blackened crater created the bright sunlight lit up the clearing. Three men were still alive somehow and got to their feet. Kareem, Abdul, and Jabbar were still alive and more amazingly unhurt. They couldn't understand nor believe their luck. Everyone around them was dead and they were in the middle of the impact. Kareem looked at Abdul and then at a picture and pack of condoms which fell on the ground by his feat. It was a picture of Kareem's fiance. Furious, the homie pulled out his gat and shoved it in Abdul's face. He wasn't going to let some [racial expletive] bang his ho. He was gonna have to show this mutha fuckin' home boy what happened when [racial expletive]s touched his woman. Not to be taken down without a fight, Abdul pulled out a trigger and threatened to blow them all up.

"You gonna die [racial expletive]! You been humpin my girl?!"
"BACK OFF! man just Back Off! I'll blow us up I swear!"
"Negro I will bust a cap in yo' ass mutha fucka'. How you like that [racial expletive]?!"
"I'll do it! I'll fuckin do it!"
"Yo'r candy ass is grass you back stabbin' [racial expletive]"

Just then Jabbar got up and interrupted the two, "Hey guise!! Look man! It didn't blow up or nothin'!"

The gunship's artillery shell cradled in Jabbar's arms was not a dudd.. infact it had a horribly delayed fuse. For some reason the other two knew this.

"[racial expletive]!!"
"Oh my--"

The final blast killed all three 'home-boys' as they were known in their social enclaves, and thus another trend of racial violence was ended. This all leaves one to wonder what were a trio of [racial expletive]s doing in balkan Kocobo anyway??

[meanwhile...]

Lt. Kamidze just finished having a medic pull a piece of shrapnel out of his leg. It seemed the enemy was pulling out all the stops now to stop them from capturing the enemy. Still he couldn't just abandon the attack, he had to keep pushing. By now he had heavier weapons being brought up to the scene, Doomani made shoulder held SAMs bought on the black market and more mortars and even a heavy laser guided AT launcher with two missiles. His men were shaken by the heavy response by enemy air cover but their resolve was strengthened by fresh and heavily armed reinforcements and chants of Allahu Akbar! These reinforcements came in a gradual stream of men, armed civilians mixed with actual soldiers on the backs of farm trucks and anything else with 4 wheels and an engine.

One of Kamidze's sergeants dispatched a pair of men with a heavy SAM to find a clearing in the woods and find whatever it was in the sky that was giving them such a rough time. It took the men under a minute to climb up a set up craggy moss covered rocks to a small precipice which just barely poked its peak out above the trees. Not even a kilometer from here the two men could see the smoke rising and explosions in and around the area inhabited by the Velkyan special ops force. Their was a hint of cordite in the crisp cold mountain air and the wind picked up blowing the smoke of the battlefield out towards the large valley in the south, past the Velkyan position on the small plateau. The began searching the sky with their eyes and with the SAM's small radar, hoping to get a tone and maybe a lock. They searched some more and shells continued to fall from the sky on their comrades positions. Then one of the men spotted a small plane flying in circles in the sky. It wasn't shooting anything but it was flying and it wasn't on their side so it was fair game. The rocketeer set the weapon on his shoulder and looked into the computer sights. The other stood to his right steadying the large weapon. He had the plane in his sights, got a tone and then a lock. He screamed "Allahu Akbar!!" and squeezed the trigger letting loose the surface to air missile. The missile took flight and sped off towards it target. The second man loaded another round into the launcher and spotted one of the enemy gun ships in the air. It was so hard, the mountain air was extremely clean and it was a perfectly clear day. That and tracers, though faint in the mid day light, made it easier to tell where the rounds were coming from. They did the same thing for the larger aircraft and fired off another round which flew off into the sky. The two men chanted religious prayers and praises and quickly descended the rocky outcrop, having expended all their ordnance and not wanting to push their luck any further.

On the ground things weren't looking much different than the way they were before. Men were still hurling themselves into the enemy kill zone and getting blown apart by artillery and gunship fire and enemy bullets. Finally the idea struck Kamidze like a brick in the head and he felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner. It was obvious at this rate he wasn't going to overrun the enemy without breaking his force of fighters. There was simply too much artillery and not enough SAMs to take care of the air threat or any way to combat the enemy's long range artillery. The odds were against him but he had one enormous advantage over his enemy. They had to get out and he didn't. Quickly he ordered his men to tone down their fire and cease advancing into the enemy killzone (this should have come as a given and the fighters had already learned to not charge into the field of explosions once the first few dozen were mowed down). They'd melt into the landscape and provide just enough suppressive fire to keep their enemies' heads down. He had a very limited number of Doomani-built shoulder launched SAMs. These weapons were the most valuable anti air assets available to the Kocobars and a great number had been lost to the enemy when they took the fort. However he still had enough left under his control to carry out his plan. He ordered squad commanders to dig into positions with good visuals over the airspace over the fort. The rest of his force would keep the ruins surrounded and lay down suppressive fire to eliminate any thought of a break out by the ammunition starved Velkyans. Their artillery would be firing blind and the Kocobars would keep a lower profile, thus minimizing their losses against enemy air power. Had these been the barren rocky highlands of north eastern Kocobo... they'd all be dead right now.

[Kocobar enclave of Siynika]

Kocobars HATE Yuslevakians. Yuslevakians HATE Kocobars. However here the gross ethnic majority were Kocobars and their mosques dotted the fertile country side. The land of Siynika had been a fertile grain basin for as long as memory serves and a center of ethnic strife for perhaps even longer. The Republic of Kocobo had tried and failed to link up with its lost brothers and sisters in Siynika in the penning days of the war. Held back by the tenacious Yuslevakians and having to deal with a full scale invasion by a joint Aequatian, Velkyan, and Kampferian assault. To all outside appearances Siynika was cut off and ripe for the pillaging. To outside appearances that is...

In reality the province was never more ready short of having an actual army, to resist a Yuslevakian imperial incursion. The populous, starved despite their rich lands, by Yuslevakian policy and practices had had enough of the racial and religious discrimination. The Yuslevakian held gap between Kocobo proper and Siynika was in reality a highway for black goods and traffic between the two areas. Despite being held by Yuslevakia firmly on paper, the reality was quite different. Arms runners and fighters frequently dodged checkpoints or simply bribed guards altogether. The arms market was thriving. Kocobo and Kocobars had added capital these days; intent to see a Muslim majority nation prosper, the distant Chechen Republic had invested money and support into the small balkan country. If the Kocobars had one foreign ally of a world power it was the Chechens.. only problem was that their only foreign ally was fighting for its life at the moment and couldn't be bothered to help. There was also the risk of upsetting relations even further with the Doomani which meant it was in Chechnya's best interest to not intervene at this point.

Regardless a resistance had been planned and grown in size for some time now. Kocobo didn't need to try and win the hearts and minds of the populous of Siynika against the Yuslevakians, they had done that for them already with their oppressive policies. Kocobar commandos and fighters, seperate from the official Kocobar armed forces, penetrated borders and situated themselves in the villages of Siynika. "Every village is a fortress" The famous words of Colonel Mahmud Khattab. When the Yuslevakians came, his men would be ready.

http://www.meib.org/images/ff_khattab.jpg

Khattab's officers had been planning a full out attack on Yuslevakian territory bridging the gap between Siynika and Kocobo proper for some time now and were actually ready to strike. However it was only when spies and informants, having infiltrated some levels of Yuslevakian military, either through bribes and gratiutious amounts of vodka, or by simply questioning locals about the blatantly obvious build up of troops near Siynika. In fact they'd be retarded to not take a hint.

That night, tipped by an informant of increased enemy activity, Khattab sent out his first orders to his fighters positioned throughout the province. In the middle of the night remotely detonated mines were set up on the major routes into Siynika and its important cities of Rezran, Vribunica, and the town of Kech. What was about to be unleashed was 500 years of ethnic tension and religious repression. Spurred on by religious fanatics such as Khattab himself, a dangerous beast was about to be unleashed.

[Airspace over Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo]

It would come as a strange shock to civilians, but in the cockpit of aircraft like the Lady Jay, one could realistically fall asleep at the controls. As far fetched such a thought was when such craft were engaging in live fire combat operations, the loud snore-like droning of her turboprops coupled with the rhythmic drum beats of the Jay's weapon systems provided the seasoned aircrews with the strangest yet most fitting lullaby you could imagine. That is, course, until the threat warning system was activated.

Instantly, the cockpit was filled with the distinct blaring sirens of the aircraft's AN/AAQ-99 passive infrared threat management system, the shrill noise bringing the two command deck crew back to full alert. Shouting over the intercom was the crew's electronic systems officer, his voice filled with a great deal of excitement coupled with a small dose of genuine fear.

"Command, SAM launch, nine 'o' clock low, confirmed MANPADS!"

The pilot, tempered by nearly eight years and countless hours of combat flight, both as a close air support driver and a gun mother (Allied Union Air Force slang for the captain of a support gunship), reacted quickly and efficiently to the incoming threat. Although it was extraordinarily unlikely that the launched missiles, as there were now two confirmed in the air, would have the ceiling or tracking capability to successfully engage a target at his altitude, even if the target was a behemoth like the Jay, he didn't make it through his years being blindly confident in or dependent on the capabilities of equipment, his or the enemy's. Calmly and firmly as to to not alarm his crew any further, he called into his headset to address his crew.

"Alright, boys, looks like Hadji just sent us a few presents. Lock down and prepare for evasive maneuvers, over."

With the same skill and precision demonstrated in their handling of the fire support mission, the gun bay crews, numbering eight enlisted men in all, began to quickly but carefully stow their weapons and ammunition in their proper restraints and racks, locking them down firmly. The last thing anyone on board that aircraft wanted was a premature 125 mm howitzer shell detonation. Within the space of a few seconds, the three cannons of the craft were locked tight along the ammunition, and these items were soon joined by the gun crews themselves. Satisfied that his aircraft would not be torn apart by friendly munitions, the commander gently pulled his aircraft into a series of evasive dives, rolls, and turns to confuse the enemy missiles' infrared seekers.

His passive countermeasures packages began to dispense flares, bright plumes of visible and infrared red arching away from their mother aircraft, creating angelic smoke patterns in the clear mountain skies. To the men on the ground, it would appear to be a fireworks show, although much more sinister in motive. As these countermeasures dropped and plummeted in the direction of the oncoming enemy munition, the small directed active countermeasures turret on the gunship's underbelly swiftly traversed into position, training it's eyeball like laser lenses at the incoming munition, only to withhold its fire at the last possible moment.

As the munitions reached their maximum service altitude, their rocket motors began to falter, eventually stalling completely, their drive mass depleted. Momentum and lift carried the spent rockets up several hundred meters more, reaching a triumphant apex still several thousand meters below the gunship's current altitude before plummeting back to the mountains below.

Slightly relieved that his previous predictions were true, the commander of the Jay returned to an engagement profile, oblivious and for the time being invulnerable to the sporadic surface fire directed at his aircraft. The local battle network painted a slightly different picture for him. One of the drones targeted had not been as lucky, having disintegrated from a direct hit from a lucky shoulder fired launcher, forcing the other two up to the ceiling of these accursed launchers.

Now back in the fight, the crew of the Jay swiftly unpacked their weapons and began to perform their grim task once again.

[Alagir, Former Yuslevakian Republic of Kocobo]

The sporadic clatter of automatic weapons fire echoed all around the young private as he ran back to the village, dirt kicking up all around him from the bullets of the omnipresent enemy marksmen. A deep rumble shook the ground below his feet as one of the nearby M98s leveled and fired its main gun at a distant enemy troop concentration. Stumbling and then thankfully regaining his footing, the soldier slid across the dusty ground of the village and into the company's makeshift command post. Satellite and radio communications equipment lay strewn all over the floor of this old wine cellar, mountains of data and technology managed by a team of harried looking forward air controllers and intelligence officers. At the back of the man-made cavern stood an imposing figure dressed in the digital camouflage schemes of an Allied Union Army air assault major.

Major Richard Hawking, decorated combat veteran, stood crouched in the corner, huddling over a small PRC-84 satellite radio, shouting at an unknown officer for air support. His face was red with rage as he turned towards the enlisted man, who promptly mustered a quick salute. Such a practice which would be totally unacceptable on the battlefield, a fact that the Major sternly reminded him of before asking of the purpose of the young man's presence. In a nervous voice, the soldier yelled over the general din.

"Sir, Alpha Platoon is running low on ammunition, we've salvaged all we can. Our lieutenant recommends a supply drop on our position or we will lose firepower superiority, sir!"

The Major shook his head.

"Son, I'm strapped trying to get us as much as a boomerang at the moment, we've got reports of a massive counterattack on our northern lines, we've become second priority until we can get the situation stabilized!"

The private's guts froze at the mention of the phrase, 'second priority'. His comrades' deaths and the terrible chaos of battle was still fresh in his mind, and the added stress of the reality that he might not make it out of this alive was beginning to truly sink in. Sensing his subordinate's apprehension, the Major mustered his own confidence.

"We aren't out of ammunition, private, just our type of ammunition."

The private, obviously not slow by any means, nodded eagerly. His inexperience amused the seasoned commanding officer, who informed him of the location of the impounded enemy weapons. Commandeering the use of obsolete but rugged Kocoboan weapons was a far better option than the rather cowardly alternative of surrender. Word spread through the embattled detachment quickly, and soon the telltale rattles of Kocoboan automatics intermingled with the quick but sharp claps of Velkyan battle rifle fire. The commander, half cynically and half amusedly, assessed their situation.

Using the enemy's weapons against them. We'd all have a good laugh at the goddamn irony of it it if we don't die before then.

He returned to his post, hating not being with his men, but knowing his role. As he clambered back into the rear of the ad hoc headquarters, a communications officer hurriedly rose up, calling his attention over to a nearby satellite uplink. Quickly but surely making his way to the eager solider, the Major asked the gangly officer the meaning of his request. Almost stumbling over his words, the soldier replied.

"Sir, it's the Aequatians, they can get us out of this!"

With a renewed sense of vigor at those blessed words, the Major took the headset in his gloved hands and pressed an earphone to his exposed head. With a heavy dose of anticipation, he spoke into the boom.

"This is Task Force Valhalla, go ahead."

Speech made by the Prime Minister to the Entire Nation

"Yesterday, my Ambassador to the small state of Harovenia was informed by the Government of that country that they believe themselves to be under threat from the impending war that threatens to consume the former Yuslevakia area. After discussion it was decided by myself and the First Sea Lord that the Questarian Task Force on station in that part of Haven would move into Yuslevakian waters and transfer thirty two warplanes to the Harovenian military, but until further orders received would stay out of the fight."

"We watched sadly as more conflict unfolded in the region today and as more nations chose to intervene, His Majesty's Government found it neccessary to express our sincere wishes that the nations of the Northern Concordiat and the New Alliance Treaty Organisation withdraw their military forces from the region forthwith. The Duchy of Harovenia is an independent state which has requested the aid of our Commonwealth and Empire and it receive it they shall."

"It was considered by our Cabinet that the Royal Navy at least ought to make a move in the region, and the exchange of ideas led to the construction of Operation: Vast Staunch, a two part military operation which will consist of Questarian forces establishing themselves in the region and then preparing for further political decisions made here and in response to the unfolding crisis that has been laid before us in the most untimely manner by the invasion of Kocobo by Concordiat and NATO forces."

"A total of three carrier battle groups will move into the region within the space of two weeks and will occupy positions off the west coast of Yuslevakia, bolstering Questarian forces in the region to four carrier battle groups and a surface action group. This decision was made and executed before a recent Akimonadi Government Statement that in the light of Questarian military movements is extremely worrying to us. I would like to inform the Nation today of the statement made. They intend to establish a two hundred and seventy nautical mile exclusion zone extending from Yuslevakia's shores out to the ocean; vessels not from Akimonad, Aequation, Ravenna or the Barkozian Failed State will be attacked if they enter this 'exclusion zone.'"

"The Single Task Group already in Yuslevakian waters is currently at one hundred and thirty five nautical miles from the Yuslevakian coast. Our Military and Political Command have made the decision that this fleet will not move. It will maintain its position, defend itself, and await reinforcements. The commander of this group has been informed that our Nation, Empire and God stands behind him in the defence of his duties and that if the note sent to the Akimonadi Government is rejected by them, that he has a weapons-free reign over the area to do what he must to ensure the survival of his ships and his sailors and of Questarian naval tradition and honour. In turn he replied with his own personal message which I am sure you would like to hear. It reads as follows."

"Although we are arrayed against the entire Akimonadi Navy and Air Force and the colonial forces of Ravenna and Aequatio, I wish to extend to His Majesty, yourself and the nation that we will endeavour to achieve victory and never surrender our time-honoured and hard won traditions in the face of the enemy. God Save the King."

"The note sent to the Akimonadi Government is therefore important and as such I shall read it to you. 'The Questarian Empire requests and suggests that in the name of peace in the region of Yuslevakia, that the Exclusion Zone's tolerance is extended to allow any amount of Questarian shipping to travel peacefully through it. If this note is not approved within six hours then our forces in theatre will have no choice but to act to defend themselves from future Akimonadi or NATO aggression against them. We await with hopeful minds a positive response within the set time limit." Gentlemen, I know that the King, I, my cabinet, yourselves, Admiral Woodbridge, and our entire nation awaits with baited breath the response from the Akimonadi Government."

"Good Day to you and God Save the King."

Yuslevakian Sea

The Questarian Task Group had considered its options and put them into immediate practice. The eighty-two ships followed the typical wide-circle style defensive formation, with important ships in the centre and stretching out to a distance of seventy kilometres. Further ahead, four air defence cruisers had been ordered up on random vectors a hundred klicks ahead of the main fleet and were broadcasting intermittent RADAR signals, trying to catch NATO or Akimonadi aircraft and ships. AEW&C did the same, although its reach extended further out, and a high flying Supermarine Sportsman hung around outside of Akimonadi airspace accompanied by a pair of de Havilland Dauntless fighters. As soon as they were given the order, the Sportsman would be able to see more than five hundred klicks into Akimonad and at any rate, the current Questarian AEW&C formation setup allowed them clear, and if the correct mix of doctrine and initiative was applied, safe, radar pictures from up to a thousand five hundred klicks from the centre of the battle-fleet, itself running a total emissions blackout.

If the Akimonadi's moved ships in, the AEW&C, which were all escorted, would spot them on their intermittently broadcasting runs and would pave the way for a missile attack from the Questarian fleet. Furthermore, occasional active radar searches from the Sportsman aircraft allowed the Questarians to see everything on the Akimonadi islands, a feature that would prove useful should it come to blows. In Ceylon, Supermarine Shawshank FAW.2 aircraft of the 160th Territorial Air Defence Division sat on the tarmac, still and silent steel birds, as the monsoon rains forced their more natural brethren into the jungle for shelter. Slung underneath each Shawshank was a single missile and their white settler pilots observed their aircraft and the klaxons watchfully and hopefully while snuggling mugs of tea. If called into action, they would strike a most decisive blow against Akimonadi and Aequatian orbital infrastructure.

Tristan Dockyards, Tristan Peninusla

"This is the Clandonian World Service broadcasting on 104.6 Long Wave, Good Evening. NATO forces continued their escalation and intrusion into the former Yuslevakian states. In a statement the Prime Minister condemned the Akimondi notion of creating a exclusion zone that favoured NCON and NATO forces. Following the Questerian PM's statement a Questerian Royal Navy task force has been dispatched to the Yuslevakian Sea."

At Tristan home of the South-East Haven Force, the battlefleet in dock began preparations to head South towards Innovata to assemble for forward strike positions against Aequation forces on the island. Clandonian B-22's and Blackburn Blackadder MSE.2 at RAF Tristan, some one hundred aircraft were being prepared for combat operations, Lance anti-shipping and IAD-26 'Hawk GLAMs were being elevated up from the vast underground munitions storage bunkers. Tristan was a strategic asset, the Imperial Chiefs of Staff had made it clear that all methods would be used to prevent it from being lost to NATO forces. A further two battlefleets were now steaming down at full speed from the Omz Sea, just North of Shrewshire to reinforce the peninsula.

In a show of loyalty to their Questerian partners the Admiralty had instructed the second battlefleet that was on exercise just to the North West of the savage state of Barkozy to head towards the Yuslevakian Sea, choosing to ignore the so called 'Exclusion Zone'. The force of two hundred ships included eight fleet carriers with their air wings which had been performing simulations for the last month in a scenario where the Royal Navy would be performing bombing raids against NATO colonial forces. While international peace was desire the false imposition of a exclusion zone without wide spread agreement by Havens nations meant the Crown Government decided to ignore it fearing a greater disaster if they chose to move the navy later on. At 2100 Hours local time the Colonial Governor General ordered the evacuation of the civilian population of Tristan, hundreds of thousands of holiday makers had their trips cut short as the strategic airlift of Clandonian Royal Marines began from Home Nation. The island defence forces were being prepared and the beaches mined to hamper any landing by NATO amphibious forces. With one battlefleet less than 1000 km's from the Yuslevakia conflict area and an increased military presence by NATO, the government at Warminster looked carefully at the events happening in the troubled region.

Ambrose Sea, Kocobo Bay

The Aequatian Navy surveillance satellites, normally in use for observing the movements of fleets in blue water operations, were now overlooking the northern edge of Kocobo Bay and through the eastern sectors of the country as the operators marked down the locations of visible airfields and hangers. The images and reports filed by the intelligence personnel was sent to the waiting commanders in both the Combat Information Centres aboard the massive Enterprise fleet carriers in the bay and to the HAVFLTCOM headquarters on Innovata as the Air Staff Plans Directorate, a joint Navy and Air Force command, worked on establishing a Joint Air Tasking Order for not only the Aequatian Navy and Marine aviators, but also the allied Velkyan, Skyian and Cravanian assets in-theatre.

Army Lieutenant-General Stuart Donnally, Haven Command's Chief Operations Officer, and his staff met with their counterparts under Rear Admiral White and overlooked the reports and JATO presented by the planning directorate, "It's important that we capitalize on our air superiority now and take full command of the skies over Kocobo, close off any and all traffic over the border into Harovenia or Yuslevakia proper," Said Donnally as he set a folder down on the briefing room table.

"Velkyian and Skyian aircraft should be left to support their own ground operations in Kocobo, given that report out of Alagir, they need it," Suggested White, "Our carrier air wings can more than handle the Kocobar airfields, they can lend the jarhead flyers for CAS missions supporting our allies on the ground. They'll appreciate the fast-movers running on the enemy lines and rear positions."

"I'd like it if we could have the marines prepare for a number of seizure missions after the carrier Alpha Strikes take out the important targets," Said the army general as he overlooked the expanded map of Kocobo projected on the wall, "If marine airmobile units can be prepared to move on the positions once they've been hit, we can prevent them from being reoccupied and repaired by the Kocobars and convert them into command hubs and firebases for local operations."

Planning continued as the staff personnel at HAVFLTCOM and on the carriers in Kocobo Bay shared information and held briefings via secure satellite communication links with each other and their counterparts in the allied NATO and Northern Concordant commands. Just as they would occur at the Velkyian and Skyian bases on the captured Kocobar airfields, the Aequatian carrier aircraft lifted off for their intended missions as the four carriers air wings tasked with strike missions launched aircraft in the massive "Alpha Strikes" which included a majority of the fixed-wing elements onboard. A total of nearly a hundred and fifty aircraft from the Aequatian carriers flew in their strike package formations as they set course for their respective targets across the northern sector of Kocobo. Specially-selected "Iron Hand" detachments led the packages, EA-16C Sparrow electronic attack aircraft, armed with anti-radiation missiles and tactical jamming pods, would conduct the breaching operation in suppressing and destroying any enemy air defence systems that would be guarding the targets. Following the Iron Hand flights were the meat of each strike package, the A-16C Invader tactical bombers themselves hauling the numerous pieces of ordinance chosen for the missions, high-penetration guided bombs for use against the runways, cluster munitions for use against exposed aircraft and fuel storage and the usual guided munitions for use against important structures such as radar towers, hangers or munition dumps. Stand-off jamming would also be provided by another flight of EA-16C aircraft following the strike bombers while each detachment was watched over by pilots such as Lieutenant (Junior Grade) James "Squire" Savage flying the potent F-124A Bullwhip fighters in the protective combat air patrols and escorts for the more vulnerable bombers. Directing the entire operation were the loitering E-2G Hawkeye II airborne radar and control twin-turboprop systems, their crews watching the skies for enemy aircraft while they pinpointed targets, monitored the movements of allied aircraft and their courses towards the allocated targets and coordinated communication between the squadron leaders and the command personnel aboard the carriers.

The aircraft, once in the air and on course towards their targets, would be overflying the Kocobo coastline within a half hour, with another forty five minutes of flight time more to their targets.

-----

Airspace over Alagir, Kocobo, Former Yuslevakia

"This is Task Force Valhalla, go ahead."

The Velkyian message sputtered from the receiver on the communications set attached to the helmet of Marine Captain Michael "Renegade" Collier as he sat in the backseat of the F-194A Pandora acting as that sector's airborne forward air controller, "Valhalla, this is Renegade, I've been directed by the higher ups that you need some help down here. Don't worry, we're going to get everyone we can out of there," The veteran pilot officer said as he cycled through the displays on the Advanced Crew Station as it listed the available aircraft in the air sector as the larger screen displayed the full FLIR image of the besieged position. Using a black plastic stylus to mark the potential strike zones, the hillsides and tops would be the first targets as the Velkyian UAVs were datalinked to his station almost instantly through their command points and the Navy E-2G Hawkeyes. He switched over to the command channel, speaking with the watchstander aboard the command aircraft, "Hotel-Echo-Three-Eight, Renegade here, this is official, I need priority on all assets in this sector for convergence on Alagir, T-R-P-Alpha on my mark, over."

"Affirmative on that, Renegage," Replied the Navy lieutenant, "All assets in your sector are under your direction... Good hunting, Hotel-Echo-Three-Eight, out."

Two blue markings on the moving map display caught Collier's attention as he turned to look portside as a pair of ARMC A-128A Peregrine (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/Aircraft/Skyhawk-rip2.png) fighter-bombers streaked past almost five hundred metres away, "This is Falcon-Bravo-Two, we're good to go, Renegade!" The Marine aviator said over the channel, "We are hauling November-Papa Six-Eight-Charlies, over."

"Wilco on that, Falcon-Bravo-Two," The captain said as he examined the picture coming in from one of the reconnaissance drones, "Make your run on T-R-P Bravo, enemy is advancing north on T-R-P Alpha at one-five-zero, over."

"Roger, rolling in hot..." Replied the pair of aircraft as they broke hard and dropped in altitude towards the battle position below. The pilots of the single engine bombers, directed by the target reference point marked clearly on their respective heads-up displays, switched on the master arms to the weapons and released their weapons before breaking hard and climbing steeply, flares pouring from the aft countermeasures pods. The smooth NP-68C free-fall canisters spun in the air as the bombers pulled around for another run before their oxidizing agents ignited them as they opened, the thickened JP-5 fuel would coat the hillside and ignite almost instantly as the ground was engulfed in the intense flames. The strike would be the first of many as more Aequatian aircraft, Navy and Marine, were drawn from around the sector and directed to strike at the enemy-occupied hillside and hilltop positions, more of the incendiary weapons would be dropped, setting the hills aflame and choking the sky with black, acrid smoke as the strikes were prioritized by the hurried Collier. Peregine bombers armed with the napalm weapons burned parallel lines into the hillsides while others straffed man-sized targets, identified by the FLIR cameras on the SHARP pods hanging underside the fighters, with twin 30mm cannons firing at a combined rate of three thousand rounds per minute and ripping up the earth in massive divots.

The air controller marked other targets as a squadron of Navy A-16C Invader tactical bombers arrived on-station in the sector, "Renegade, Inca-Nine lead here, armed with Rockeye Threes and Tango-Hotel-Bravo One-Bravos, ready to roll in hot," Explained the squadron commander as they were directed to strike at the hilltop positions themselves, target points marked for their advantage as the swept-wing bombers made their runs on the positions as dozens of flares spit from the AN/ALQ-123 Integrated Defensive Countermeasure suites and released their ordinance on the hilltops. The first runs were made with the Rockeye III cluster bombs as each hilltop was hit with a pair of the bombs as they split open in the air and rained down a total of five hundred, hand grenade-sized submunitions over the positions, exploding as they struck the earth, rocks and trees and throwing out razor pieces of shrapnel into the air with an intense cacophony of detonations. The A-16C aircraft, having made their first bomb runs, circled around widely and came in fast and hard over the same positions in the same manner of the initial runs, as each Invader made its own attack run on the hilltops and the bombs drifted towards the ground, they burst open and a thick, opaque cloud fell upon the hills as the rear section of the weapon, containing a small explosive charge, disappeared inside before triggering and igniting the cloud, unleashing a hellish detonation of intense heat and pressure upon the positions and any personnel unlucky enough to be caught within the thermobaric explosion, the flash and pressure of the strikes would be felt by the Velkyians fighting from their positions, who would also be witnessing the extraordinary display of Aequatian airpower as it fell upon the Kocobar fighters and positions.

High above, maintaining watch over the entire scene were a number of F-124A Bullwhip variable-geometry air superiority fighters as they ran the perimeter of the immediate area with the Hawkeye II keeping watch for enemy aircraft, prepared to call them for a snap intercept if needed. As the strikes continued on the enemy positions on the surrounding hills, Collier spoke with the Velkyian air controllers on the ground as he coordinated the remainder of the A-128A fighter-bombers to make runs "danger close" to the allied positions with the incindiary bombs and 30mm cannons, the latter being used by aircraft that had expended their ordinance on the hillsides, while others burned the ground at the foot of the hills and the ground closer and closer to the Velkyian lines with the thickened jet fuel.

The results of the continued strikes was noticed by First Lieutenant Katie "Kataclysm" Morrison, piloting the lead UH-96G Bagheera in the formation of six at twenty metres from the ground as they ran on the allied position, vectored in by the Velkyian FAC officers. In rear positions, acting in a security overwatch duty, a dozen AH-196A Nike attack helicopters maintained watch on the area for missile contrails fired at either the fast movers on their attack runs or the light utility helicopters as they closed on the village, marked with purple smoke and confirmed with the ground forces. The crew chiefs on the speeding Bagheera helicopters slid open the side doors and prepared the shock-resistant crates filled with ammunition loaded into magazines for the Aequatian Marine riflemen coming in on the later aircraft as they passed over the positions the crates were shoved out and landed loudly on the ground as Morrison pulled back on the stick and climbed hard as the sky filled with tracers from the ground, while the covering gunships and their 30mm cannons and 70mm guided rockets returned fire on the enemy positions that did open fire as the six utility helicopters climbed to two hundred metres and exited the immediate area in a staggered and vertical formation, blowing flares to avoid the MANPADS threat.

After the first pass by the utility helicopters had been through and gone, a second wave approached the village's position as those on the ground, both Velkyian and Kocobar, would see the massive MV-22A Osprey tiltrotor transports screaming in on the position as they flew nape of the earth on the holed-out position. The lead Osprey, cutting through the black smoke of the napalm with its massive propellers, fired a succession of rockets into the ground and threw up a screen of white smoke as they circled around and came in on a rough landing. As each of the aircraft landed on the position, a rifle platoon of Aequatian marines would disgorge from the belly of the transports and take up a position on the firing line, relieving individual Velkyian units as they pulled back and boarded the waiting aircraft before they took off again in a flight pattern back to secure, friendly areas.

Staff Sergeant Chappell, a platoon assistant with the involved Echo Company, hurried his marines off the ramp of an MV-22A and immediately directed by a Velkyian lieutenant to a position going the opposite direction while the wounded were loaded alongside the battered paratroopers. Dropping down into one of the fighting positions, he raised his G109A1 rifle to his shoulder and fired semiautomatic bursts at targets as they presented themselves, just as the rest of the platoon did with their rifles, light machine guns and grenade launchers. As the firing lines came to life with the new vigour of the Aequatian Marine Corps, supported by the might of the air cover, the Velkyians were slowly taken out of the region as the rifle platoons slowly collapsed back under the weight of the ever encroaching Kocobar irregulars, their fighting position shrinking as they began withdrawing aboard the MV-22A aircraft once the Velkyian survivors, numbering close to eighty, and their thirty dead were extracted.

Once they had expended their ammunition that was carried in, the marines broke open the previously-dropped crates and continued their fight. Sergeant Chappell stuffed twenty round magazines into the pouches on his assault vest as the others around him fired on the ever-advancing militias, one marine falling back clutching at his neck as his uniform was stained crimson, "Corpsman!" Shouted a lance corporal as a pair dragged their wounded comrade back from the line. The marines fought hard as they pulled back into smaller and smaller positions, Collier watched the scene from above as he continued to direct the tactical aircraft on their attacks, keeping tabs on the marine positions with infrared strobes.

Chappell, now separated from the lieutenant and the platoon, fell back from the empty crates in confusion as he attempted to rejoin their lines. His sage green suede combat boots were crusted in mud as the veteran fighter sprinted through the remains of the village, dirt kicked up by the speed until he ran into a pair of Kocobar fighters that had gotten through the lines. Driven by instinct alone, his rifle fired from the hip, one of the Kocobars fell back from a barrage of 8.5mm rounds before the other realized that the sergeant was upon him, pinning him to the wall with his G109A1 as they struggled to the ground. Both of the men let go of the rifle as it fell to the side and locked themselves in grips, rolling in the earth before separating and making it to their feet, the sergeant missing his helmet as the fighter drew a knife and charged the marine as the sergeant took a hold of the man's arm and drove his knee into Kocobar's groin.

Capitalizing on the immediate shock of his victim, Chappell drew his own bayonet and brought it down, burying the blade above the collarbone and severing the man's carotid artery as he forced the weapon up through the opening wound and the fighter fell limp in the sergeant's arms. Shoving the corpse against the wall, resheathed his bayonet and retrieved his rifle from the ground, reloading it before setting off in a sprint as his platoon started boarding the last pair of MV-22A aircraft, shouts and cheering from those fighting to cover the withdrawal drove the sergeant as his "Defender" assault vest was struck by one of the rounds from a Doomani DR-83M, throwing him off balance as he lost his footing and fell to the earth. Pushing himself to his feet, using his rifle as a brace, he continued on to the aircraft as another marine came forward and helped him up into the Osprey's cargo compartment as it lifted off into the sky, small arms still hammering the exterior as it gained altitude. The platoon's Medical Corpsman approached the sergeant as he laid back against the bench, the marine shook his head, "It's nothing, petty officer, just got the wind knocked out of me," He said.

The Navy Corpsman smiled as she leaned the sergeant forward, revealing the stained blood on the wall of the aircraft and the combat vest, "It's a little more than that," She said removing her helmet and opening the medical kit, "That's going to hurt like a bitch when the shock wears off," She said pulling his sleeve back and injecting him with morphine and setting up an intravenous as the flight stabilized on its course back to the Velkyian rear area.

[Posting as Kocobo]

[Alagir]

A renewed hail of artillery fire and aerial bombardment tore up the sides of the valley and laid waste to the rocky peaks and outcroppings. Chunks of wood and dirt flew everywhere but thanks to the tree cover many men were able to narrowly miss being torn apart by enemy fire. There was no escape for those caught in the path of the fuel gels, those poor men were incinerated immediately as well as the trees around them. The result were blackened lines of charred trees stripped of all their foliage along the hillsides. Still Kamdize's men were ready. They had taken cover and although most of the men ordered to keep suppressive fire on the Velkyans had been martyred, there were now almost ten men to take each fallen man's place. And Kamidze's trump card was still ready up his sleeve to be played. He heard that familiar sound, the massive laying of smoke only reinforced his assumption. The moment was in his hands.

Musa Pirosevic ran past shoots of still smoking charred trees and didn't notice the charred remains of a fighter on the ground near him. He jumped over a fallen log and came to a clearing in the forest made by none other than the enemy which had berated him and his fellow combatants for the past however long the battle was. His view of the sky was great; interrupted only by the thin spires of burnt trees. The sound of rotors couldn't be missed now, even with the constant pounding of artillery shells and aircraft flying low overhead, just barely missing the tops of the trees. He took up his position and armed his Doomani made MANPAD. The Latin wording was scraped off and rewritten in roughly translated Albanian. Musa set up his weapon and took aim waiting for the moment to fire. The sound of footsteps surrounded him and the battle only grew more intense in its final moments before reaching its climax.

Dozens of men rushed forward on command, now eager to take a little vengeance at their retreating foe. Some of them shouted in Albanian and Arabic. The enemy did succeed in obliterating pretty much every tree for cover in what must have been a hundred meters around the ruined village fort. Still the terrain was highly uneven and men dove into craters and behind rocks and shattered tree trunks with their rifles, RPGs, and recoiless rifles. Although most men, charged with vengeance as they were, opted to stay behind in the cover of the trees, further from the enemy, but still in range with their weapons and with the added morale bonus of better cover. A few idiots charged the Velkyan and Aequatian positions and most were cut down by fire. One man managed to get into hand to hand fighting with an enemy soldier, however his luck led him to one of the most experienced veterans of the enemy and he was cut down like a child versing a sumo wrestler.

Then the enemy choppers took off. They must have thought themselves in the clear but rather, they were at their most vulnerable: every Kocobar eye in the area was fixed on them and with them; dozens of heavy infantry weapons. Dozens of RPGs fire from close and somewhat longer ranges streaked up into the sky towards the choppers and every piece of small arms fired towards the choppers, filling the sky with 5.56, 6.XX, and 7.62 mm lead. A group of men managed to bring up a .50 cal machine gun and began firing it at will at the helicopters. The massive artillery strikes by the enemy had been somewhat ineffective at killing the Kocobars, though supremely effective at forcing them to retreat and take cover, and had now cleared the skies of tree foliage.

Then the fighters with the expensive and well built MANPADs let loose their packages, firing five of the missiles up into the air and reloading to take another shot if the enemy was still in range.

In this final sprint the air filled with Kocobar projectiles all aimed at the enemy. Something was bound to hit; there were by now a lot more trained soldiers than weekend warriors among the Kocobar ranks.

[Meanwhile, Rohavac AFB, western Kocobo]

The air raid sirens howled as alert crews sprinted toward their aircraft. SAM and long range radar had picked up squadrons of enemy fighters entering Kocobar airspace; their targets were obvious and well known. A dozen men clambered into the cockpits of their P-2 Ruzviks (indigenously built F-4 Phantom IIs) and taxied down the pavement towards the runway. They had a forty five minute warning. Five had been spent getting the weapons out and another ten loading the weapons and getting ready to take off. The pilots were all veterans, having flown combat missions before, yet it was probable they were less trained than their Aequatian adversaries who had both exponentially greater equipment and more flight time. The Kocobars had the advantage of being over friendly territory and a solid sense of what they were doing. Plus they knew the enemy would have to fly the gauntlet before reaching them.

"Tower to Sovic-One, you are cleared for take off."
The plane rocked and sped forward almost before the pilot had gotten his confirmation. Another plane sped along besides him and several hundred meters behind were the next pair and others after them. They got airborne, runway giving way to country side and roads and then towns below them. The pilots of the squadron all got into formation and were directed on their intercept heading by flight control operators monitoring the incoming carrier aircraft and their own flights on radar screens. With the great amount of fighters on approach, everything Kocobo had was being scrambled. Within fifteen minutes of the first detection, a hundred and thirty eight fighter aircraft, P-2 Ruzviks and P-4 Ralchiks (indigenously built F-16s, much more nimbler than their P-2 cousins, and more of a match for their adversaries, but far fewer in number, only totalling 46 aircraft total).

The rest of the nation's fighters were grounded. They had broke down or cannibalized for parts. Some had been so overused with the many small wars between the Balkan states in the past decade that they were simply beyond the end of their lifespans. Still, a respectable size of aircraft were able to be scrambled and they had a big advantage going for them...

"Incomming on radar!"
"Computer's locked on!"
"Fire!"
The surface to air missile streaked off into the sky at its target, far beyond the visible horizon. As Aequatian fighters flew over the country they encountered a withering hail of AAA fire and scattered SAMs which turned on their radar's at the last moment; warned of the incomming fighters by forward radars and airfield radar systems. They were able to get the drop on their enemy better this way. From seemingly no where over the country, from city streets, from mountain valleys, from riverbeds, AAA gunfire, flack, tracers, sensor-fuzed munitions, flew up to greet the enemy flying in plain day light. SAMs, mobile and stationary dotted the entire country. Put their in the Cold-War style political environment of the Balkans and remnants of once proud Yuslevakian military might, their were seemingly more of them than enemy fighters.

As the enemy aircraft would have to traverse mile after mile of hostile territory, they came closer and closer to Kocobar fighters, flying low over the rugged and mountainous terrain of the country, and the heavily defended airfields. To an outside observer it would seem the Aequatians had expected this to be a walk in the park. If so, they had severely misjudged the Kocobars.

[Kachanyk...]

Heads of state were greatly surprised and in a very good way when the head Questerian ambassador came to deliver the news. The President himself shook the hands of the diplomat and quickly drafted a response letter to the Questerian government. The letter was brief and to the point. In essence it thanked the Questerians greatly for their offer of help as well as pledging support and claiming close historical ties which were very vague. The letter also agreed to everything requested by the Imperial government and the president expressed his desire to continue immediately.

President Alexander Kazansky's address to the Senate

We in Allanea are no great friends of radical Islam. As a matter of fact, we generally oppose those national entities that subscribe to that ideology. But in our opposition to it we must not paint ourselves as enemies of all Muslims. We must also not fall into the trap of believing that opposition to radical Islam justifies any kind of atrocity, any limitation on liberty, any excessive enabling of the State. In particular, it does not justify the ongoing genocide of the Kocobars. Nor does it justify lending any kind of support of the Yuslevakian imperialistic police-state, nor to the Doomani catholics in Chruatia.

We must remember that while the Kocobar leadership is not full of saints, there exists in our fair region a far greater evil – an evil of Satanic proportions. That evil is Doomingsland. Though our friends in Questers and Praetonia so far have not been able to wage a decisive naval engagement against the Doomani, so as to allow us to land our troops on the Doomani shore, we must still remember – Doomingsland is evil. The Chruatians, who have almost integrated their Church with the Doomani Chruch of Oppression, the Yuslevakians, who have their troops trained by the Doomani, are not likely to be better.

What the Yuslevakians want – what the Chruatians want – is no doubt one thing and one thing only. They wish to swallow up the entire Balkan area, and they wish to do it by Doomani methods. Remember Najaster, Senators? Remember New Sodom? Remember ViZion? Do you want that re-enacted?

Further more, the NATO operations in the area represent yet anoter NATO-Gothic incursion into the fair lands of Haven. True, the time is not ripe to fight tem – but tell me, do you want these people to have more power in this noble region?

We will not send our military in there – not yet. But the United States will not act in support of the murderers in Yuslevakia and Chruatia. The United States government will not sully its good name by wielding arms on behalf of these vermin.

That is all.

And may God bless Allanea.

Somewhere in rural Chruatia

'Officially, Ibrahim didn't exist.'

That's what an adventure novel would have said about him. But as a matter of fact, Ibrahim al-Radan did, in fact, officially exist – as a random Allanean Freeman. He had left the Allanean stae of Aissur two weeks ago, and nobody outside hs family knew that Ibrahim was now fighting for the Kocobars.

Right now he was hiding in the bushes outside a Chruatian military base. The base was rather far away – about a furlong and a half – but it was almost eight in the evening, and when Ibrahim flicked the cover off his VSS rifle, he could see the man upon one of the base's guard towers as a black silhoette against the reddish sunset.

When shooting up or down a steep slope, items will appear closer than they truly are. Adjust your shots accordingly.

Ibrahim remembered well that line from his sniping manual, and now, he was 'adjusting his shots' accordingly. He put his crosshairs an inch above where he estimated the soldier's eye level to be. He knew that the bullet's trajectory would bring the jacketed hollow-point round slightly lower – to impact somewhere between the Chruatian's eye and his ear.

He pulled the trigger slowly, gentle – and himself was slightly surprised when it broke and the rifle moved slightly under recoil. Ibrahim had no flinch, and was completely unsurprised when the Chruatian slumped down in his guard tower.

The rifle had no noticeable muzzle flash, and there was no way to figure out where the shot was fired from – and at any rate, several seconds later Ibrahim would no longer be in that location.

Elsewhere in Chruatia

It was an ordinary Kocobar-dominated village. The population was rather small, and half of the village houses stood uninhabited after the last Chruatian raid in the area. It was typical, really.

The Allanean 'volunteers' appeared five days after the government soldiers left, leaving mutilated bodies and burning crops behind. There were six Allanean and four Kocobars, wearing camouflage and carrying shiny new DR-83M rifles, driving two ancient, beaten pickup trucks that they called 'technicals'.

The Allaneans listened to the men and women recounting their troubles and the horrors of the raid. The oldest of the Allaneans – a tall, grizzled man with grey hair and a long scar that ran from his cheek all the way up to his forehead – stood in the village hall, nodding at every new atrocity recounted. When it was all said, he looked questioningly to the Kocobars that came with him. They nodded.

Minutes later, the Allanean 'volunteers' were loading large wooden boxes from their pickup trucks. Inside were DR-83 cloned rifles, still in their oil, and two 82mm mortars. They gave the rifles and one of the mortars to the villagers, then they left.

Yet a day later, the villagers heard about a Chruatian tax collector disappearing in the area, and they were not surprised at all. Nobody was surprised to know that their new rifles had been made on Roanoke Island, either.

Men like Ibrahim – or like those 'volunteers' – were not special. There had always been some amount of Allanean volunteers, adventurers, and mercenaries fighting for any number of causes world-wide. Right now, that included Chruatia. And soon, that would also include Kocobo.

The Allaneans are known for their martial culture. Even those who cannot find a place in the ranks of the Allanean Army sometimes fight in a variety of wars abroad. In the war-torn jungles of Knootian Colombia, in the hills of Chruatia, in the deserts of Saharistan, in the swamps of Dienstadt, hundreds of Freemen make their fame and fortune shooting and being shot at. Mercenaries, volunteers, adventurers, bounty hunters, smugglers – for centuries upon centuries, Allaneas have profited by the gun and the sword.

The war in Kocobo was no different. The Allaneans – and especially the Muslim population in the states of Daikatana and Aissur – hated the Doomani and their sympathizers, and felt the pain of the Kocobars. Additionally, rumor had it that the governors of Aissur, Daikatana, and several other states had quietly adopted the policy of pardoning any criminal who expressed the desire to go kill Yuslevakians. Either way, hundreds of people started purchasing one-way tickets from Allanea to Ichkeria and from Ichkeria to Kocobo. Those who were not able to afford them would receive the aid of 'anonymous benefactors'.

Better yet, the same 'benefactors' paid for hundreds of tons of 'industrial machinery' to be moved into Kocobo – hundreds of MANPADs, 82mm automatic mortars, and even a dozen light six-pack MLRS launchers. It was known that the Kocobars already had a lot of small arms.

OOC: lol Allanea the war I was talking about Im going to make in a seperate thread, it takes place several years or so after this one :P