NationStates Jolt Archive

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Official Diplomatic Communique to the Lyran Protectorate

Greetings!

Hamilay is proud to consider itself a friend of the Protectorate, and is always pleased to find opportunities to foster stronger relations between our two great nations. We would like to propose a Lyran visit to the Federal Republic, and would be honoured to have the chance to learn from Lyran military minds. If Lyras is agreeable, your representatives would be met in the capital of Sayenna by Hamilayan officers. Military exercises of the 102nd Mechanised Division are presently underway outside the city, and we would like to have observers of Hamilayan forces in action - you may bring your own forces if you so wish. Representatives will be brought to the exercise area by a short helicopter flight, and we would appreciate an independent evaluation, and a later chance to have our officers learn from Lyran ways.

Best regards.
The Hon. B. A. Whittaker
Minister of Defence
Federal Republic of Hamilay

TO: Federal Republic of Hamilay
FROM: Lyran Governmental Trade Department

Minister Whittaker

Lyran Executive Command has reviewed your request, in conjunction with our shared history and current operational deployments. The Protectorate thusly has determined that the request is indeed agreeable. Lieutenant-General Archer has been charged with the responsibility, and will be accompanied by his aide, Major Riley, and a pair of escorts. Should the presence of escorts be a problem, then we will adjust accordingly.

Please advise of timings for arrival, and we shall despatch the team persuant to that.

Regards

General Wallins
Director
Lyran Diplomatic Corps
Bredubar
Protectorate of Lyras

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Diplomatic Communique to Lyran Governmental Trade Dept.

Excellent. The presence of escorts will be no problems at all. We request your transport aircraft arrive at the Diplomatic Terminal of Sayenna International Airport, tomorrow at approximately 0800-1100 hours, as the 20th Division's exercises are scheduled for operations later in the evening.

Best regards.
The Hon. B. A. Whittaker
Minister of Defence
Federal Republic of Hamilay

Sayenna International Airport
0746 Hours

The platoon of Republican Guards stood at attention in the sun, their medals and ribbons earned pinned on their spotless white uniforms. The band of the 1st (and only) Republican Guards Division was a few metres away, making final preparations to launch into the national anthems of Hamilay and Lyras. There were two lines of the Guards positioned on either side of the standard red carpet, ceremonial Mauser 98 rifles pointed to the sky.

At the end of the carpet were several people in both suits and military uniforms, as well as two LY83 'Fox' vehicles. Normally the standard transport would be one or more limousines, but a more military feel had been suggested for this visit, and the Lyrans might appreciate the familiarity of their vehicles.

Two of the welcoming committee were slightly out of place, as they were standing amongst the white-uniformed Republican Guards in dark green regular Army dress. Lieutenant-General Andrew Bartlett, the higher-ranking of the two, was a tanker by trade, although a little taller than ideal. Caucasian and in his late thirties, he was young for a three-star, but that was partly why he was here. However, Bartlett was coming up on his 20th year in the army, and was already a veteran of several conflicts. The last of these, the Hamilayan Civil War, had seen the then-colonel's armoured battalion ambushed by two regiments of Imperialist forces, but despite the tanks burning all around him, the battalion commander's vehicle had miraculously remained unscathed long enough to destroy seven enemy tanks. When it was finally immobilised by a missile, wounding two of the crew, Bartlett had covered them with the commander's machine gun whilst they escaped to safety, receiving two of his own wounds in the process.

For this feat the Gold Star of the Republic with Swords and Laurels was pinned on his breast, which even the decorated Guardsmen admired. Normally referred to as the Gold Star First Class for ease on the vocal chords, this was second only to the Medal of Glory in Hamilayan order of decorations. The star had advanced him two pay grades in as many years. Bartlett was here at the behest of the Defence Minister, with a bright future in the Army and enough initiative to take the lessons of the Lyran visitors to heart. However, one might argue his presence was itself a clash of the old and new. The Marshals had grudgingly approved the Minister's choice of designated liasion to the Lyrans mostly due to that handsome face and gold star, so as to immediately impress the fighting skill of the Hamilayan Army upon their allies.

Bartlett was unaware of this. The second officer in green, his aide, a colonel fifteen years Bartlett's senior, would have been more clued-in, but those fifteen more years had conditioned him not to rock the boat and he refused to think about such matters. So the two Army officers stood straight and proud amongst the Guards in the Hamilayan morning sun, awaiting the arrival of the Lyran representatives.

TO: Federal Republic of Hamilay
FROM: Lyran Governmental Trade Department

Minister Whittaker

The details as provided are acceptable. Barring misadventure, Lieutenant-General Archer will be there at the indicated time.

Regards

General Wallins
Director
Lyran Diplomatic Corps
Bredubar
Protectorate of Lyras





Sayenna International Airport
0757 Hours

The diplomatic plane's touchdown was uneventful, at least in technical terms. The plane, a large, widebodied airliner, was painted white with the distinctive white lambda on black covering the tail. While it may have been an easy

The plane eased into a halt, and the doors opened.

Lieutenant-General Archer was a slightly older man, in his early fifties, with iron grey hair cut short to his scalp. A veteran of nearly every war Lyras had fought in within the past forty years, in one capacity or other, he had a chestful of medals, including the exceptional service order, twelve seperate campaign ribbons, three extraordinary valour crosses, amongst others. A combat artillery officer by specialty, and the primary consultant to the Protectorate Research and Development Commission for the LY300 Manticore, Archer was, however, not a diplomat.

The Federal Republic of Hamilay had sought the presence of an experienced observer, and a chance to learn from Lyran minds. In the absence of Colonel Natasha Krell, attached as she was to the Lyran unit in Sumer, or Field Marshal Edmund Ward, still holding command of Task Force Epsilon, and the continuing duties of Warmarshal Leon Krell, Lieutenant-General Archer was the logical next choice.

He stepped out of the plane, onto the mobile stairway, Major Riley at his back.

Sayenna International Airport
0758 Hours

The plane rolled to a halt, the Hamilayans present immediately stiffened. With a nod from the Minister of Defence, the Guards band began the Lyran anthem to coincide with the officers' descent down the staircase. Lieutenant-General Bartlett and his aide, stood and saluted, as the Minister and those around him approached down the red carpet.

The Minister was about the same age as Lieutenant-General Archer, with slightly pointed, hawkish features and thinning hair, wearing a navy blue suit. All business, he strode towards the Lyrans, with Bartlett and Vasayev joining his party along the way, and held out his hand.

"Lieutenant-General Archer. It is a pleasure to have you with us. Bernard Whittaker, Federal Minister of Defence. These men here are Lieutenant-General Bartlett and Colonel Vasayev, XXV Corps of the Hamilayan Army. They're the Army's official liasons on this occasion."

Bartlett and Vasayev saluted again. "Sir, an honour to have you with us," said the general. "We have a few things planned for today. As you're aware, the 20th Mechanised Division is preparing some war games in grounds outside the city, which we'd appreciate you taking a look at, if you don't mind. If you'll follow me..."

[Incidentally, your anthem is awesome.]

Sayenna International Airport
0758 Hours

Archer took the ministers hand, and shook it, noting the firm grip.

"Minister. The pleasure is mine. General, colonel, likewise."

The Lyran turned to follow his hosts, noting their well-rehearsed rendition of the notoriously tricky Lyran national anthem.

"This is my ADC, Major Riley. XXV Corps, you say? Where has XXV Corps been the past ten years or so?"


OOC: Ta. Much obliged.

"Only a couple of places. Eight years back the corps deployed to Generia at the behest of the Allaneans. The Doomani were making threats or something. Fortunately, though, that didn't go anywhere. Would have been ugly," said Bartlett.

"I still don't know what that was all about," he muttered under his breath. "Then, two years back, there was the civil war. At that time XXV was stationed at Beferen, on the east coast. The CO was incapacitated in the early days." Bartlett decided not to mention that the deceased Lieutenant-General Muller had attempted to defect the unit to the Imperialists and was shot for his troubles.

"Corps took part in the defence of Beferen from the 21st Guards Army, and participated in the drive to Sayenna, where I got this old thing." He pointed to the medal on his chest.

"The 25th is an armoured corps in Hamilayan parlance - two armoured divisions and one mechanised. As opposed to your mechanised and motor-rifle corps. These are the semi-permanent corps designations we use, otherwise shuffling more specialised divisions around corps as we need them like most nations."

Archer nodded in assent.

"Civil wars are messy things. Lyras was formed out of a desire to avoid having one. As the Storn League broke up, the senior commander of the League Army refused to allow the army to split along the same lines as the League, and plunge the region into chaos. The vast majority of the League Defence Forces departed, and occupied the then-uninhabited area, which is now Lyras. So, General, I very much sympathise with your attempts to avert national disaster, and pass on to you my condolences."

He moved on.

"I am not attached to any formation at present, but have held a number of corps-level positions. Generally Lyran forces, while nominally allocated to a corps, function in conflict primarily at Army and divisional level. Having said that, I have held a number of posts that you may be familiar with. I co-ordinated the targetting from the Falchion during the Mokan civil war. Was co-ordinator of artillery during the Verenberg civil war. A awful lot of civil wars, come to think of it."

He looked thoughtful as they continued to walk.

"I do not envy your antagonism of the Doomani. They have no honour, and fight as barbarians. Do not trifle with them, but if you find yourselves opposed to them, inform us. While you fight with honour, we will fight with you."

"Thank you. The civil war was rather absurd, incidentally, since the imperialists would have enjoyed a large amount of popular support. If they had chosen to pursue their ends politically, we could very well have had an emperor in a decade, but they secured the backing of the Republican Guard, and I guess they just had to use it. We value stability and order highly, so that was the end of sympathy. Not a pleasant experience. It will not happen again," said Bartlett coldly. The Minister nodded his agreement.

"An artillery coordinator, you say?" asked Bartlett with interest. "Artillery is a big part of the Army, but we don't have much in the way of doctrine for it. Maybe you can give us a hand there," he chuckled, his brief cold tone earlier disappearing.

The Minister responded to the next one. "Well, the Doomani probably don't know we exist," he said dryly. "Since our foray into opposition to them was mostly behind Allanea, and relations between them and the Doomani are now apparently normal, the government's anti-Doomani stance has slackened off. Not that we like them all that much."

The group arrived at the vehicles and was motioned in, the sounds of the band disappearing into the distance. After a minute or two they pulled up at a helicopter pad, where one Aequatian 'Jaguar' tactical transport was waiting.

"We'll be flying to Fort Commonwealth, where we can take a look at this exercise. Should only take about half an hour. Minister, will we have the pleasure of your company?" asked Bartlett.

"Naturally. I would very much like to see this. After you, General," he motioned to Archer.

Archer nodded curtly, as he stepped onto the transport.

"Thank you, minister."

As the two men followed him in, Archer remarked;

"I wouldn't count on relations with them staying that way. There's too much divergence there. Too much by a long way. Something will give."

Conversation paused as the blades of the Jaguar began to turn.

The 'Jaguar' was, not surprisingly, a VIP transport variant, and as such had a more civilian interior and comfortable seats, though they wouldn't get so much use on this short flight. As the party entered the helicopter, a soldier slid the door shut behind them. The Hamilayans took the seats opposite their visitors, to the sound of the helicopter lifting off. Once the rotor blades got up to speed, the Minister spoke again.

"Yes, back to the Doomani, we've certainly considered this. A major problem the planners and myself are having is gauging whether their fearsome reputation will galvanise the home front or cause it to crumble, since this will probably be an invasion-type scenario. Can't predict people." The Minister shook his head.

The helicopter was now in the air. An impressive view of the city of Sayenna was visible through the windows, although the Lyrans could have seen it on the journey in. A mass of the tallest skyscrapers to the east noted the city centre proper, and buildings stretched to the horizon in all directions.

Abruptly, Colonel Vasayev addressed Lieutenant-General Archer for the first time. "If I may ask, sir, what are the basics of the Protectorate's contingency plans for this sort of 'doomsday scenario'?" Bartlett and Whittaker both looked up, evidently interested.

Archer didn't answer immediately. It was a big question, and slid along the edges of what was classified within Lyras. Hamilay was an ally, however, and that meant something to Lyras. It always had, truth be told.

Sayenna really was an interesting city from the air. The skyscrapers were taller than the vast majority of those found in Lyras itself. Skyscrapers, Lyran planners had theorised, were not good buildings to be in if heavy weapons sang, bombs fell or cruise missiles flew. As a consequence, and as all things in Lyras existed for the defence of the state which was the protectorate of the people, skyscrapers in the true sense were extremely rare.

Sayenna was very different. It bustled in a way that Bredubar or Highcairn didn't. The only areas of Lyras that really came close were the manufacturing zones, the city-sized complexes that fed the state's inexhaustible hunger for engines of war. Castlegate MZ801 alone, neither the largest nor the oldest such facility, although the one with which Archer had had most experience, produced 8,000 tanks a month.

Also different in Sayenna were the notable lack of weapon emplacements. Nearly every building of any size at all in Lyras bristled with weapons. Windows, balconies, stairwells, all were built with firing ports and pintle-mounted medium and heavy machine guns, at the very least. Where buildings in most of the developed world had emergency evacuation drills, Lyran buildings had contact drills in the same way that units in the field had contact procedures. Sayenna boasted little of the same.

But so many people were out and about. The number of cars. So wasteful of resources, but so interesting to watch. Their movement was like a ballet, and also not unlike an ant colony, inscrutable in individual purpose, but alive, and industrious nevertheless. The entity that was the Hamilayan capital, viewed from above, was alive in an almost palpable manner. By contrast, Bredubar felt like a weighting predator, quiet, calm and poised for action, an ever present, barely noticeable atmosphere of tension just under the surface, almost as if everyone there was waiting for something. Which, in many ways, was exactly correct. Sayenna though, had life for its own sake, glorifying in itself, and in existence as an end. It, the city itself, was alive.

Archer found contemplation of what Colonel Vasayev called a 'doomsday scenario', with reference to Sayenna, to be extremely discomforting. Lyras' national anthem, 'In defence of the weak, undaunted', spoke the lines;
"Yet there's another country, I've heard of, standing firm,
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
We may not count her armies, yet well we hear her cry;
Her bulwarks lie asunder, her battle lines awry;
So soul by soul, undaunted, we'll shield her faltering form,
Until her fields stand silently, our arms will break the storm."
Lyrans held those lines dear, and stood by them. The Protectorate, as honour demanded, would not turn a blind eye to those in need. Lyrans existed by a code of honour, codified rules of behaviour for all who held the privilege and duty that was the defence of the Protectorate of Lyras. All within Lyras were expected to live and die by those instructions. Part of that code stated that 'As a warrior, you will fight for the Protectorate, and do so also in defence of all who look to it for guidance or guard.'

A 'Doomsday scenario', as Vasayev implied it, were, by their very nature, devoid of honour. Those who would willingly seek to maximise civilian casualties were not warriors. They were not even soldiers. They were less than human, less than the dust from whence they came.

It pained Archer to think that there were those possessed of great power who were so low, so base, as to not only conceive but implement military operations aimed at non-combatants. Non-combatants who were the charge, the responsibility and the reason for existence to a warrior, and yet nothing more than targets to those for whom honour was seen as a weakness and an avenue for exploitation.

It pained Archer further, when such scenarios were considered, that those selfsame persons might, in the process of their dishonour, condemn millions, even billions, of non-combatants to death.

After a long pause, Lieutenant-General Archer answered the Hamilayan colonel.

"Colonel, that which you term 'Doomsday scenarios' are highly unpleasant. We divide serious interstate warfare in which we are involved in an overt fashion into three categories. The first is offensive warfare. In that scenario, we take the battle to the enemy, and seek to break his will to fight, either by destroying his force-in-being, or by rendering his strength, whatever it may be, impotent."

He paused a little, and turned his head further away from the window, noting that Major Riley was also listening intently.

"The second is defensive warfare. In this scenario we are fighting on friendly soil. Either ours, or that of our allies. We, again, aim to break our enemy's will to fight."

He frowned, as he considered his next words.

"In neither case is the actual destruction of the enemy's force necessary, or even particularly important. Units are engaged only when it is determined that such an engagement will assist in bringing about the successful conclusion of our objectives, however they may be defined.

The third scenario, however, is different. The third is a strategic nuclear war. In this, the situation changes markedly. Units in the field have far less utility. On the contrary, they become targets. Only the honourless would consider such actions, where mercy falls away and fortitude and courage are replaced by spite and recklessness. Such action is the desperate act of one for whom hope is lost. To abandon hope is to abandon self, to abandon spirit and to abandon thought. This is to eschew all that we are, to cast to the wind the foundation of our beings and solid rock of our duty.

To focus more on your question, colonel, tell me of your invasion scenario. Do you describe a situation where Hamilayan air-mobile infantry dismount onto the cliffs overlooking the Straits of Doomanum, and attempt to secure a beachhead for the Hamilayan Republican Guards or 102nd Mechanised to land?"

Archer leant forward.

"Or do you describe a scenario where the dug in 25th Corps attempts to fight off waves of Doomani armoured vehicles, supported by TSF-70 strike fighters. Where death squads of armoured zealots roam the smoke shrouded streets, and where the road from Beferen to Sayenna is lined with the writhing, screaming and naked bodies of crucified women and children. Is that the invasion you refer to?"

Archer was right about the nature of Sayenna. Although it did have a respectable air and ballistic defence network, it was light on defences even by Hamilayan standards. Beferen and Castell, the next largest cities by population of the Federal Republic, were industrial and naval centres, and would be on the front lines of any war effort. Sayenna, however, was geared towards technology, finance and administration, and was the jewel in the crown of Hamilay - an extremely fragile jewel. With the most impressive skyscrapers and the fullest bank vaults and the cleanest streets and the most civilians in the nation, if the city was alive, it was a noncombatant, certainly something to be shielded from harm.

As the Lyran general spoke, the listeners nodded in agreement. However, as he rounded out his description of Doomani atrocities, the two officers stiffened noticeably, but even more visible was the Minister of Defence, who looked like he'd been punched in the chest. This was more than a little too close to home. Earlier, Minister Whittaker had spoken of people and the human factor, but it had been offhand, if anything, something alien to military science. In the corridors of the Defence Ministry, 'war crimes' and 'enemy atrocities', were tossed around, but always skirted around, and only from a practical perspective of the effect on civilian morale and hence how fast tanks or planes or guns could be built in Castell factories. To describe them in all their sickening detail was anathema.

Every Defence analyst was simply unwilling to consider that such things would happen to them, although they knew in the darkest recesses of their minds that this was always a real possibility. They all thought that Hamilay would never die, would never be allowed to die. But if all order and justice broke down, it was unspoken law that Hamilay would die gloriously, whether in a blaze of nuclear fire or with a bayonet charge into tanks rolling up the steps of the Presidential Palace. It was assumed, on Doomsday, that every civilian would grab a weapon and take the national motto to heart, even though this was patently absurd. Perhaps it could be done in Lyras, but few nations had such a culture, Hamilay not amongst them.

Death squads and crucifixions were decidedly unglorious. It was as if, in the end, every enemy of the Federal Republic would salute and drink to their memory, at least giving them a 'dignified' exit. Again, not grounded in reality, but to question this was to wound national pride.

After another long pause, Vasayev answered flatly.

"The second situation, sir."

not a glorified bump at all
As the occupants spoke, the size of the buildings below gradually reduced to suburbia, neat rows of two-story houses faintly visible below. The Hamilayan semi-obsession with order was apparent, if one looked closely enough; almost every house on any particular street was identical, with trees evenly spaced along the roads, which themselves were all built on a grid system.

The helicopter gently banked west, suburbia in turn giving way to countryside, farmlands and small clusters of either buildings or forest. It flew over a wide strip of cleared land, at the edge of which was a chain-link fence, with rolls of barbed wire, anti-tank blocks and the odd guard tower, although this array wasn't visible from the helicopter's altitude. An Aequatian E-14C airborne early warning aircraft, escorted by two F-48As, came into view, just over the buildings of Fort Commonwealth.

In the cockpit, the helicopter's pilot activated his radio. "Victor-Two-Seven to Commonwealth Tower, on my final approach. Request clearance to land."

The helicopter began to descend.

Fort Commonwealth was next to Sayenna. Archer didn't know what to say. He knew that many countries did so, and expected that that would be the case where cities had grown... but having noncombatants so close to legitimate targets made him uneasy.

The question posed by the colonel still had to be answered. But to do that, it had to be yet further clarified.

"I had thought as much, colonel. The second question, however, is did you mean 'how would Lyras react if the doomsday scenario described were to occur IN LYRAS', or did you mean 'how would Lyras react if the doomsday scenario described were to occur IN HAMILAY'?"

"Ah, I see, sir. I would be most interested to know the Lyran response to such a situation if it occured in Lyras," said the colonel.

Archer, again, didn't answer immediately. Not simply by reasons of classification, which he would take pains to avoid, but by virtue of a strange sense of wrong-ness. The idea that Lyras itself would be involved in a situation of the type described was uncomfortable to say the least.

“Colonel, Lyras is, as I am sure that you have by now surmised, a unique national entity. Most who have dealings with us have no idea of the extent to which that statement holds. Just the other day Lieutenant-General Aleksandr forwarded to me that he had received from a national government, reference a new manufacturing facility being built overseas. They requested that Aleksandr ensure that the application process would not exclude applicants from their state, and that all applicants be subject to the same criteria.

I laughed. I laughed very hard. I laughed, very hard, for about five minutes. Not because of the reasonableness of the request, but for the complete lack of understanding of our society and culture that the request implied.”

He paused, weighing his next words.

“We had no 'applicants' in the sense he was conveying. In fact, by that same token we have no workforce, at least not of the type that he would recognise. We are Lyras. We are the state, and the culture, and the society. The state is the collective manifestation of us. We are warriors, as we are Lyras. Lyras, the state, is a martial society. Not just a martial-inclined society, or a militaristic society. We have nothing else. As far as any other state would recognise the term, we have no civilian sector.”

He frowned slightly before going on.

“Which is not to say that tasks that are considered civilian occupations in other states are not carried out within Lyras. I apologise if I gave that impression. But within the Protectorate, those tasks are militarised, of necessity. They cannot but be militarised, as every man, woman and child within our borders is part of our military apparatus. Personnel are posted to tasks, there is no 'job application'.”

Here the Lyran grinned.

“Although you can submit a posting preference for the next rotation.”

Sobering, he furthered the point.

“That means that every single person of our five point two billion population is a member of a military unit. Every single one over the age of about five can shoot. All over that age are armed. In the case of a 'doomsday scenario', colonel, units in the area under threat that would normally be engaged in non-combat tasks, such as maintenance of buildings, construction work, personnel administration, and so on, will mobilise. Contact sirens will sound, and personnel will grab their weapons, don their armour, and report to building muster points from where combat can then be organised. Trainee units, not yet ready for combat in normal circumstances (that being children under the age of fourteen), would also mobilise, and be committed regardless. Younger and less trained units would be used, where possible, in less intensive situations. For instance a ten year old may be given the relatively simple task of manning one of a building's medium or heavy machine guns.”

Archer leant back, as the helicopter began to descend.

“Although all of the above is premised on the idea that we've been caught with our pants well and truly around our ankles. Fighting would, of course, be conducted conventionally first. Putting our trainees into combat roles is expensive in manpower terms, to say nothing of the obvious problem that is placing ten-year olds in harm's way.”

The general's expression darkened.

“In the case of an invasion we know is coming, we vector in (by rail) LY300 and LY471 units appropriate to the size of the approaching fleet. While the exact number of each that we have remains classified, let me assure you that it is quite a few. And I know that you are very well acquainted with the effectiveness of both of those systems. When the hostile fleet is determined to be within 2500km, the Skyguards fire first. LY4032 missiles are released, targetting their orbital infrastructure. Warhead detonation in an anti-satellite role will also have the pleasing side-effect of generating an electromagnetic pulse that will wreak havoc with sensitive electronics. Unless they use gallium arsenide circuitry, of course, which just about everything in Lyras does for this very reason. With satellites down, and being continually knocked down as they come up over the visible horizon, the focus shifts to the Manticores. They will be carrying either LY4045 anti-ship cruise missiles or LY589 Hellions armed with anti-ship warheads.

About eight years ago, I was artillery group commander for forces defending a port named Huchnom. I commanded 66th and 67th Artillery Corps. I proceeded, when time was judged appropriate, to order those units to fire.”

He looked at the Hamilayans in front of him squarely.

“I am sure that you gentlemen know the result of that order, and the effect it had on a fleet that had been nominated as hostile. I was, at that time, in command of two corps of artillery. I can assure you that, were Lyras proper under threat, there would be an awful lot more than two corps of artillery prepared to fire, and likely with more ammunition available than a paltry two salvos. I, and those like me, would be doing our level best to make life rather difficult for the fellows attempting to violate our territorial integrity.”

OOC: Sorry for the wait, exam. By the way the fort is close but not that close to Sayenna - I fluid timed the helicopter trip a little.

All the Hamilayans present were suitably impressed. The maritality of Lyras was, of course, common knowledge, but this was something the Ministry, for all its bluster, could only dream about. The description of Lyran first-response to an invasion was particularly interesting, being markedly different from Hamilay's, which called for engaging the enemy as far away as possible with naval forces and following up with massed land-based anti-shipping airstrikes. However, Colonel Vasayev was more focused on the later stages of a 'doomsday scenario'.

"And if the invasion, against all odds, were to make landfall and push back your ground forces?" He had already realised it may not be the most tactful question to ask - should the answer have been obvious? - but this was an area of particular interest to Vasayev, ever since his first lecture at the National Military Academy. "If enemy forces were to reach the doorstep of Bredubar, or Castlegate, with the frontline divisions of the Protectorate destroyed, perhaps chemical or biological weapons descending?

To the death?" asked the colonel quietly.

The helicopter blades slowed and the aircraft gently settled to the ground.

Archer nodded a couple of times, but thought that the colonel had slightly missed an element of what was being said.

"Colonel, there is a psychological element that you are applying in this context that is being placed incorrectly. To push back the ground forces, he has to push out entire cities. He is thus left with an empty city, no one to operate equipment, and a bucketload of casualties to boot. All personnel have NBCD protection either at hand in their workplace, in theory, or in the standard building-bukers at the very least. Chemical and biological attacks will do more harm to the attackers than to us, at least in the short term.

And there are no civilians to worry about, No population that would be suffering under the invaders oppressive heel. No hordes of starving refugees fleeing for their lives and choking up the military's supply lines."

He scowled.

"Make no mistake, we will respond to strategic attack in kind. But we will not estroy ourselves in a gesture of spite. That would, to use a phrase which you may feel has been overused, be dishonourable."

Archer leant forward.

"To defeat a state's groud forces, on their own soil, is always a grave situation, but the way in which you ask the question has, in this situation, presupposed an answer to it. Colonel, you ask, what happens as the enemy press upon Bredubar and Castlegate. You say that in conjunction with an assertion about the destruction of the Lyran ground forces. But therein lies the paradox in, and the heart of understanding of Lyras as a geopolitical entity."

He met the colonel's gaze, the general and minister also in the helicopter almost forgotten, the aircraft's slowing rotor blades ignored.

"If they have brought about the destruction of our groundforces, then Lyras no longer exists. Our military IS Lyras. You still speka as if the two are seperate, albeit linked, entities. An understandable position, but one which, if held, avoids the reality of what the Protectorate is. See, if the ground forces have been destroyed, at Bredubar, no less, then there is likey nothing left to save."

At that sobering thought, Archer paused and pondered, before going on.

"When I last deploted overseas, it was to the Mokan Civil War, and I did so, as I have on a number of occasions previously, as part of Task Force Epsilon, then (and now) under Field Marshal Edmund Ward. That man has a sharp mind between his ears, but that is a point for another time. Task Force Epsilon is the Protectorate's Rapid Reaction Force. It is generally at sea, or in-port ready for embarkation, so it can arrive at a combat zone within a week or so. It deploys with enough stores to support its component elements for three months of intensive combat operations, to allow for sustained force projection into a hostile or contested area."

The conversation flow stopped, then started again, as the Lyran chose his words.

"Task Force Epsilon fielded, in that campaign, Army Groups 14 to 88. Therein were contained 1998 divisions, for a total of 39.6 million men."

The Lyran lieutenant-general smiled, but the smile had changed. No longer was it the soft, melancholic smile of a polite man, charged as he was with pondering the drk possibility of his state disintegrating under foreign invasion. Now it was the predatory smile of a hard man, bred for war and having risen to the highest echelons of a society wasn't just a way of life, but WAS life.

"Colonel, do you know how many divisions there are in a miitary with 4.6 billion trained combat personnel?"

He let that sink in for a moment.

"Should this invasion have managed to fight past several hundred thousand cruise missiles to get to our shores, it would then have to break the defences on the beaches. Should it do thus, it would have to defend the beaches from counterattack. Should that be achieved, they would have to move inland, supplied from the sea. Those supply lines, to offload those supplies on Lyran soil, would have to travel across at least 2000km of open ocean that is within range of shore-based LY300s. That is over a week of sailing time for most transport ships. None of this so far, mnight I add, has factored in intervention by Lyran naval forces thus far."

The ensuing pause was only for breath.

"Assuming, for the sake of the discussion, that supply lines across the waters can be maintained, the invasion would then press on. Landing zones and main supply routes would all be in range of every LY300 in Lyras, given the range of the LY589 missile being 3000km. Each LY300-equipped artillery corps can fire 27,000 Hellions in five minutes. That artillery corps would contain approximately 60,000 combatants. There are quite a few artillery units within Lyras' 4.6billion active service personnel. THe landing zones, and main supply routes over and out of them, would be recieving many thousands of cruise missiles per day, aimed at supply dumps, developed airfields, disembarkation points, railheads, bridges, fuel depots, mobile radar emplacements, landing ships, AFVs, light vehicles, clusters of men, and, given the volume of fire, perhaps even stray cats."

Archer was in his element. Artillery was his field, and, as cuh an integral response to projected attack on Lyras, he felt justified in focusing on it.

"The weight of firepowerdirected at that beach-head... well, it is a thought to stir the soul...

If the invasion fights through that, then they are doing well. That will continue while the campaign does. The invasion will then have to have enough force left over to shrug off the conventional attacks from the manoeuver elemetns. Task Force Epsilon alone fielded 466 armoured, and over a thousand mechanised divisions. The invasion would have to have landed enough to secure their beaches against that sort o weight of response, within the week, while under fire..."

Archer looked up, and, as if for the first time, noticed that the helicopter had stopped, and the engines were dying down to a whine.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" he asked, gesturing at the door.

Colonel Vasayev nodded. "I begin to understand, sir. Thank you for answering my question." Unnoticed by the colonel, Lieutenant-General Bartlett was muttering something to the Minister beside him, who was nodding. There would definitely be plenty to talk about at the next of the High Command's weekly meetings.

"Ah, yes. By the way, I must agree with the good colonel - this discussion has been greatly enlightening," said the Minister. He walked over to the door and peered out the window set into it, signalling a soldier outside that they intended to disembark. His hand reached for the door latch, but the soldier was faster, and he ran to slide the door open, startling the Minister.

"Sirs!" he shouted crisply, standing to attention to the side of the exit. It was a clear day, the midday sun illuminating the inside of the helicopter with natural light. The helipad was surrounded by low, drab concrete buildings, with a slightly larger building across the tarmac from which the Hamilayan flag flew. The base was a hive of activity, as soldiers patrolled, the CAP seen on the descent passed overhead and a line of Ironheart APCs rolled by.

"Thank you, corporal," said Bartlett, amused at the boy's enthusiasm. "Here's the Major-General now," pointing to a group of officers walking towards the helicopter. The Hamilayans disembarked to meet them. The general halted and saluted.

"Welcome to Fort Commonwealth, sirs. Major-General Novak, 20th Mechanised Division. We're just about to begin briefing our officers on today's battle plan." He gestured towards the larger concrete structure. "If you'll follow me?"

A smile creased the corners of Archer's mouth, and twinkled in the back of his eyes, as the corporal holding the door open stood to rigid attention. The man's eyes flicked up at Archer's escort, however, as the Lyran general passed by him to greet Major-General Novak. Lyran infantrymen often had that effect, and Archer, as an artilleryman and thus not generating that response, always found it amusing.

Archer nodded curtly to the Major-General, and followed him, taking in Fort Commonwealth.

It had all the signature elements of prepping for manoeuvers... either that, or war, which was a not too distant memory in these parts. The CAP was the giveaway, and the LY219s added to the effect.

While not of quite the same scale as some Lyran facilities (few were), Fort Commonwealth had an air of practicality and efficiency that Archer found himself quite fond of...

OOC: Sorry for the delay, Lyras, been studying for exams and panic has begun to set in. I should be back by next weekend.

OOC: Acknowledged, and accepted. Good luck :)

It was a short walk across the landing ground to the main base building of the fort. The party passed the sentry by the door, entered the foyer and stopped outside a lift directly opposite. Novak swiped a keycard through a control panel and motioned for the others to step in, following after and pressing for the basement level.

The lift doors opened onto a brightly-lit control room, bustling with activity. In the centre of the room, a number of officers, mostly Army but one in the white uniform of an Air Force wing commander, were clustered around a large map on a table. They nodded respectfully to the Major-General and those accompanying him as they arrived, parting to allow a clear view of the map.

"Right, to business," Novak began. "Our main force is the 20th Mechanised, obviously, split into brigade-sized operational units, standard practice. Three mechanised brigades and one armoured. Assisting us we have an airborne regiment, a tank regiment and a tactical fighter wing - Aequatian F/A-39s. OPFOR is two divisions of motorised troops, Soviet equipment." As Hamilay had masses of rusting Soviet armoured vehicles stored away in warehouses, it was always the first choice for training.

"Also armour between regiment and brigade force, maybe with Nakils. Aside from a few Frogfoots and attack helos, no aircraft, but a battery of SA-12s, some SA-11s and lots of triple-A. The launchers are our primary targets when things get going."

There was an old-fashioned pointing stick lying on the table, which Novak snatched up. "Here's the battleground. We're aligned on opposite sides of this river here. The King River, but it doesn't live up to its name, nothing impressive to look at. It's still too deep for our vehicles to ford, though, so we need the bridges. There are three of those, one running through the town here." He pointed to the shaded grey area in the centre, which had been circled in red marker. "The other bridges are about two klicks downstream and upstream of that one. On the enemy side of the river, there are hills and light forest around the town." Novak drew a half-circle with the pointer.

"We expect this is where they have artillery and anti-aircraft guns. We'll take out the SAMs with our fighter-bombers, then follow up with an airmobile assault on the hills and take out their gun batteries. While this is going on, a mechanised brigade will cross each of the bridges. The easternmost bridge will be the main assault, with our armoured brigade preceding the mech infantry. Don't want to get the tanks bogged down in the town, and the other bridge won't take their weight. The independent armoured regiment is in reserve. Our own artillery will begin with a full barrage along the length of the front, then support the airborne troops and provide counterbattery fire. A battalion of engineers is standing by in case we lose the bridges."

It was a fairly conventional example of Hamilayan doctrine, attack en masse with judicious use of combined arms. A notable exception was the absence of dedicated CAS aircraft, but the F/A-39s could carry enough stores to fill that role.

Archer nodded as he looked at the map. Based on extand doctrine, it wasn't a bad plan. Lyrans would have done it somewhat differently... Archer noticed a number of points, and felt he had to advance the Lyran way of doing things... why else was he here, after all, if not to observe and suggest?

"If I were on the defence, that plan would be a gamble... you are betting on taking out enough of their AA with your F/A39s to let your airmobile forces in intact. If they are using Soviet doctrine, they will be heavy on the AT at company and battalion level, with a whole heap of organic firesupport, and, practiced rapid indirect fire in support of subordinate force elements. If you miss those artillery groups, that will become a whole barrel of laughs for your assault groups."

The pondered again, then gave more voice to his thoughts.

"That bridge you are going for with your armour? Too obvious, and the airmobile assault covering it will give the game away. Sure, enemy can be defeated by smashing up their army, but it is far better to dislocate and disorientate their forces so they cannot react."

He grinned, a slightly predatory grin that past subordinates had told him was slightly un-nerving.

"First off, ignore their arty. It will not be of any use to them if they have no targets or fireorders. Secondly, they can look at a map, and take a guess at exactly what you are going to do. That means two things... that means that they are going to have certain force elements in a certain place, and will have ideas about what you are going to do. You can exploit this."

He waved a hand at the easternmost bridge.

"Take this, for example. Everyone knows that tanks in a built up area can be a bad idea... so they will expect you to go for the other bridge. But tanks are ok in a built up area... if you already control it. No, here is what I would do."

He pulled out a pointer from the rack, and indicated a number of locations.

"Hit the eastern-most bridge with a feint by your tank regiment. If they succeed, brilliant, send over a mechanised brigade, and dig in. If, as I expect, they encounter heavy resistance, pull back, but, where possible, maintain the contact. Call in organic artillery support, from SPHs and mortars. Do NOT give away the divisional artillery yet, though, and be prepared for counterbattery fire.

Launch probing attacks with mechanised infantry companies over the other two bridges. If you slide through, push the rest of the brigade over, same as before. If not, pull back. Either way, you wil gauge relative strength, and give them something to think about.

Come nightfall, rinse, and repeat. Push a bit harder at the east bridge. Perhaps call in some fast-air. By this stage, they will be firmly of the opinion that the east is where the action is. That is, after all, where the tanks and air attacks are.

That is when you use your engineers to, under the cover of darkness, push ribbon bridges over between the town and the eastern bridge. That should, if your engineers are on the ball, only take a couple of hours. If they are bumped, use your divisional arty, and give the opposite bank hell. Get your airmobile in there, and go for broke.

That being said, I consider that unlikely. The enemy will be too busy redirecting forces in to deal with the attacks to the east. You should get the bridges up and at least a battalion over by daybreak. Keep them going over. Pull all bar a holding force away from the western bridge, and rig it to blow. Slide the rest of that brigade towards the town, and push at it, make a lot of noise, then withdraw if resistance is stiff. Push the tank regiment at the east bridge again, but only for a short time. Remind them that the tanks are in the area.

Then, once the second battalion has crossed the ribbon bridges, use whichever battalion crossed first to hit the main supply route from the town. Use the second to dig in, and cover the crossing of a third battalion, with which to also attack the town's surrounds. The units in the town will know of the attempt to cut them off, and will attempt a break out... which they will manage. But that means you now have somewhere to push across your armoured brigade.

Get a fourth battalion, coming over the ribbon bridges, to swing east, and hit the flank of the units defending against the tank regiment. Make it a night attack, just for the psychological factor. Add bucketloads of arty, fast air, and push the tank regiment. They will, I surmise, withdraw, due to 'overwhelming force', which it will appear to be, if the attack is aggressive.

Then, depending upon what has happened, re-evaluate.

Do you folks have LY300s and LY589s?"

OOC: Ugh, and I thought I would post more being home for holidays. Apparently my internet can't take being alone for four months and up and died during that time. Fixed now.

IC:

The officers present listened intently to Archer's proposal, muttering amongst themselves. When the Lyran had finished, Novak began to speak.

"Intriguing. On the artillery, though - "

The room immediately broke out into a hubbub of arguments. Evidently the officers were divided over whether to listen to the experienced general's advice or to do things the way they were always done. More tellingly, they had waited for their commanding officer's cue to begin speaking before it was a free-for-all, and their inexperience of having a foreign adviser attached to their division was showing. Novak attempted to continue but was unable to make himself heard - it was almost comical. He waited for a few seconds, rolling his eyes.

"On the artillery," - the arguments died down to the previous muttering - "they do have targets, the bridges definitely as well as strategic buildings in the town are pre-sighted and their objectives allow them to waste the bridges if necessary, so we want to get our troops across ASAP. Now, the AA is a gamble, but the Commander is... confident his pilots will achieve their objective."

Novak looked questioningly at the man in the Air Force uniform. MAITLAND was sewn on the name patch above his breast pocket.

"Indeed. As the Major-General has said, we have my fighters, whilst the enemy has none save old Fishbeds they may throw at us. Thus, if the AA is neutralised air superiority will be total. We have plenty of gunships for CAS and we can get excellent intel, since we have lots of the Eikos for recon from your chaps. There are a hundred fighter-bombers and a dozen SAM launchers, I am prepared to take as many casualties as I need to have them gone."

WCmdr Maitland finished with a satisfied smile. Such things were easy to say in a simulation, of course.

"Yes, very good," nodded Novak. "We have both 300s and 589s. Generally we use them for counterbattery work, and they can be used to support the destruction of the SAM sites if the strike aircraft run into difficulties. All this said, General, I'm liking your plan. We must brief the men soon if we are to use it, though. Colonel Audrey!"

"Sir?"

"Your regiment has something to do after all. Redeploy them to this sector here to await further orders. The rest of you, you heard the Lieutenant-General recommends you move across in company strength. Get to it."

His tone suggested he would brook no argument, and the complaints of the officers from earlier were conspicuously absent.

"Do you wish to remain here or would you like transport to the front to observe?"

"If it is all the same, I would prefer to remain here, at least for the time being. I would rather not waste time at a quiet front, and while I very much would like to see Hamilay's combatants in action... I want to be sure that there IS action, if you follow my meaning."

He pondered a response, then voiced it.

"Those 589s, they represent a tremendous resource. Use them well. Each missile, loaded with WAGAVs, carries thirty submunitions. Each is able to destroy a tank. In theory, that means that a single salvo of fourteen LY589s, as fired from a single LY300, is capable of eliminating 420 tanks. If you allow for a three-to-one overmatch to ensure a kill, then use three LY300s.

That means that a single battery of LY300s, when firing Hellions, should expect to neutralise 420 tanks. Given that there are only 300 tanks in a Soviet-style armoured division, that single LY300 battery could quite possibly have won the battle for you, before it has started."

He let that roll around, before expounding the thought further.

"The task of alternate arms, to a large extent, is to establish approximate locations, so the Hellions can work. Does not have to be exact locations. Put them within 1km, and the Hellions will find the targets. And they have 3000km of range... you can afford to let them go searching. This is why I am in love with the things. Hellions and LY300s together are, in my opinion, a war-winning combination, if well used."

He changed tack, and advanced a query.

"You use 'Dauntless', right?"