NationStates Jolt Archive

Four days had gone by; four days filled with nothing but the endless grey sea stretching out like an infinite gently undulating plain on either side of the ships. The fleet was widely spaced, but from his seat upon the deck of Third Bell Kirk Wullover could see five or six ships distantly looming from the foggy sea; he was sure an equal number were visible on the other side, and sonar nets would be even busier as they picked out the submarines too, running far from silent at well over twenty knots.

His face lacked either surprise or recognition as another man sat down beside him without warning, as though appearing from the fog. His voice was toneless as he spoke to the newcomer.

"So, what's all this about?"

The older officer toyed with a pen, twirling it in silence. When he spoke there were occasional pauses for no particular reason. "War," he said. "For food. And glory."

Wullover nodded in understanding. The island of Kharanjul was almost completely covered by dense jungles, towering mountains and forgotten caves. Industrial centers had been hewn from the unfavourable landscape, despite the penetrating heat and lack of arable land; but efforts to clear-cut the jungles and fish the seas were proving far less fruitful than they should have. The Kharanji feared the jungle; they would rather not venture into its confines; folk legends said that evil spirits dwelled there. As for the seas, the fish were becoming less and less plentiful -- perhaps due to the intrusion of human industry at the port megacities on the island, perhaps simply due to natural cycles of the earth; but either way there was neither enough agriculture nor enough fish to feed a population of three billions. Importing food from outside was possible; but Kharanjul neither had enough to offer in return, nor a government sufficiently willing to engage in diplomatic talks. Thus, why not claim a colony -- one unlikely to offer much resistance, and rich in arable land? A nation of mere millions could not hope to stand up to the combined forces of the Kharanji Chancellorate.

"How long 'til we arrive there, then?"

"It's not close..... days, maybe a week, maybe more. Of course, this creates the advantage that nobody has any idea where we're bound."

"Element of surprise, I see." Wullover paused. "Where are we bound, anyway?"

The other man flicked his pen into the air and watched it spin, clattering to the floor in front of Wullover. He smiled, cocked his head to one side like a bird, and was gone; he turned and was swallowed up into the fog.

Wullover bent down and picked up the pen. It was a ballpoint and its ink was a shade of dark blue that approached black. He had nothing to write on, however; and it was beginning to rain, the first droplets already plunking hollowly on metal.

[I'm attacking de Vliggenplaat, as he seems to be a decent writer and realistic roleplayer. Anyone who'd like to join is free to jump in on his side -- not only is he a lot smaller, but I'm also a sort of stereotypically "evil" nation.]

Hooves clattered over cobblestone. On this day, the King was escorted on his morning ride by the Third Squadron of the Royal Hussars of Maran (Koninlijke Huzaren van Maran) through the centuries-old downtown core of Zutgen.
The roan horses of the Third Squadron formed three columns of platoon, with the King riding at the head of the center column. Highly ornamented, the King's escort wore uniforms that had changed little since 1802, though now their saddle holsters held modern semiautomatic pistols instead of flintlocks and their sabres were manufactured of a higher grade of steel. The King himself was unarmed, dressed almost casually in a heavy riding jacket to fend off the morning chill and a smart grey vest over a blue-pinstriped white shirt, worn open at the neck. Like his escorts, he wore knee-high black leather boots, though his were adorned with no spurs. Never a spur in his life had he rammed into a horse's flank, and he'd not start now, as he constantly told the Stablemaster.

Some patriotic souls awakened at this early hour to walk or jog alongside the Third Squadron on the morning ride. Others, out for the sake of exercise alone, bypassed the cavalry. One Hussar shrugged his left shoulder slightly, settling the fur pelisse more comfortably and revealing the sharkskin-wrapped handle of his razor-edged sabre. One redhead caught his eye, her long legged strides stretching the nominally baggy windpants she wore over her curves. He smiled, thinking how much better she'd look in a pair of cut-to-fit breeches like the ones he wore, where leather reinforced every area that might contact a saddle or horse. Karl von Ulvern van Stahlberg II, a man with a bearing and face as regal as his name, inclined his head towards a soldier from his Luchtmobiele Brigade, who'd suddenly appeared from the brick facade of row housing and frozen at attention, fingertips hovering millimetres away from his temple as his right hand rendered the salute. Behind him, his girlfriend of expensive tastes could be seen wrapped in a sheet, leaning against a wall in the entranceway, unaware of whom 'her soldier' saluted. A Leutnant of the 1.Zug, riding on the left, returned the crimson-bereted soldier's salute.

When the King returned to his quarters, the Third Squadron would stable their horses, change into day uniforms, and rejoin restive garrison life. The machinations of the King himself they were not privvy to, nor did they care to be. Most of the Hussars thought of the man as a sort of father figure, his face always breaking into a warm smile during inspections of the units that served him directly as part of the specialized three-battalion Guard. Very few people bore him ill will, barring a few Communists and Anarchists, that sort of rabble as the Duke in Chaucel Province would say. He was a genuinely benevolent, kind-hearted and practical man.

Completely unbeknownest to the citizens of Vliggenplaat, the Kharanjul fleet sailed towards them, still far beyond the horizon, a work-week's quick sailing. The leaders of that island nation had picked well, the rich polder of the Dominion provided grain surpluses on a regular basis.
The Plaatische farmers took every pride in making their small nation an agricultural powerhouse with modern farming technologies so efficient they could help feed the neighbouring nation of Gaullicana by as much as 30% and export dozens of tons of surplus to other nations, nations who did not border them directly.

Ten days in, and Commander Georg Wolf was beginning to notice that the motion of the fleet had slowed. At first it was only hints on radio chatter -- the submarines had entered silent running and were grouping into squadrons; power allocation had been adjusted to "compensate"; combat air patrols becoming more and more frequent -- and of course the rumours that the first convoys of supply ships had already set sail from Kharanjul, substantiated primarily by those with brothers or friends in the Navy, although not even Wolf knew for sure.

But now it was plain that the destination was in sight. Wolf had checked the maps. Within seven hundred kilometers or so, straight ahead, lay the Plaatische mainland. And of course now the fleet turned, and slowed; for only now would its true destination be suspected.

In the exercise rooms on board the troop ships, and on the decks, half a million Kharanji Marines returned to the weeks of intensive training; makeshift obstacle courses were set up with whatever was on hand; gunfire resounded from every room as marksmanship was practiced. Gerard Johns, as an officer, was among them. They had been trained in the jungles of Kharanjul, which were hot, rugged, and teeming with hostile life -- from mosquitoes and poisonous snakes, to creatures bigger than men that existed only as legends but could do much to explain the unaccountable disappearances of dozens of Kharanji over the years. The flat and unvegetated polder would be alien and possibly quite cold to them.

But the strictest preparation of all occurred beneath the waves. The Marines still had forty-eight hours or more before their mission began; but for the submarines, the mission was already underway. In squadrons of four or six they crept through the murky depths, gliding almost silently past shoals of deep-sea fish and strange, unrevealed life. Within the captains had mandated complete silence; they flinched at every beep of a sonar screen or click of a keyboard. The Plaatische navy was small and primarily defensive; that didn't prevent it from serving as a definite obstacle to the real objective. Landfall.

Luftmacht Maritime Patrol Boundary
19.13hrs Local, 22 May 2008

"No."

Rawlins looked over her shoulder, because there was nothing to look forward at except her instrument panel and steel-coloured ocean. She could see her radar operator fidgeting with the controls for the screen he sat infront of, and then she heard the coolly professional report. At an altitude of nine kilometers above sea level, the AN/APS-507 surface search set was reporting a significant number of returns.

An encrypted - as nearly all Koninlijke Kriegsmacht communications systems were encrypted as opposed to secured - message was immediately sent to the coordinating aircraft. Two more Heimdallr aircraft were vectored into the search. As the approaching fleet could only come from the Western arc of the compass, and Rawlin's aircraft was nearly due east, the other two were brought in from the north and south. By 22.00, in the now dark sky, these Heimdallr patrol planes had precisely located the approaching fleet.
At 24.00 they were forced to return to base, their increased speed and cautious manouvres in a very wide circle around the incoming fleet having drained their fuel tanks. Such a large fleet on a direct bearing towards De Vliggenplaat could mean only one thing; invasion.

[OOC: DaWoad: Some of your technology, from a review of your factbook, does not appear to be modern tech compliant.
The Heimdallr Maritime Patrol Aircraft is for all intents and purposes a CP-140 Aurora with the Arcturus's surface search radar set.]

Hundreds of meters below the surface, the officers and enlisted men of the Kharanji Navy ran through half a week's ration of coffee in silence, bleary eyes nailed to the sensors and screens. The sonar arrays had once been the most advanced available, but they had been attached to the submarines for two decades or so; they couldn't catch everything. Whether this meant that they would only miss small fishing boats and whales, or whether they could pass over a submarine entirely, remained to be seen as yet. Combat trials.

Then a machine beeped and paper began to print from an otherwise uncooperative aperture. The few words that were spoken, released as an indistinct rush of relief, were quickly silenced by watchful officers as the captain of the submarine leafed through them quickly.

"Targets," he said. "And within range."

Moments later, following a brief exchange of orders between the bridge and the torpedo bays, more astute sonar screens would note a sudden rush of bubbles -- as of air being released -- and then the uniquely identifiable sound of torpedoes accelerating. Twenty-four of them to be exact, four from each submarine in the squadron. The first shots of the invasion. The submarines had meanwhile dropped back, running silently (although still in formation) along a preplotted course.

The submarine squadrons were still far from shore. Perhaps they had happened upon a few far-ranging patrol ships; perhaps the vessels were merchant ships destined for Plaatische ports; perhaps even civilian liners. The chief Kharanji officers didn't know and frankly didn't care. If you're already invading the place, it's not like anyone will make a big fuss over piracy.

[For the OOC thread, one can post here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13717950#post13717950). We shall attempt to follow strict modern technology, so no thousand-meter battleships or orbital rail-guns or clone soldiers. Roleplay is open to all but approval is required.]

[bump]

[You haven't returned my telegram yet, hence the delay. I'll work around it.]

The 'summer residence' of the Royal Family outside the capitol of Zutgen was the Château d'Chevaler. Like any other national ruler, Karl von Ulvern van Stahlberg II was never beyond the beck and call of his government, and behind the century-old weathervane there were a cluster of modern antennae leading to the communications room housed in the soundproofed attic of the third building. The heavy stone walls were overgrown with green, a combination of moss and creeping vine. The Prime Minister had been reviewing plans since midnight, as his position didn't allow him the luxury of rest, unlike his nation's head.

His King lay in bed with his Queen, listening to the sounds of the night with his hand on Mylène's smooth hip, her head resting on his shoulder. He temporarily envied his wife of her easy sleep and stroked her side, listening to the contented noises she made in lieu of the wind rustling branches outside. The window was partially open, allowing him to hear all this and more, as the sentry on patrol outside acknowledged his superior. It sounded as if two more men joined him, talking quietly in coldly professional voices. He slept restlessly.

At seven, he eased out from under his wife and found three officers seated around the table in the kitchen where his wife, the Queen Mylène Boutannant van Chaucel, insisted on preparing her family's breakfast. No cook was employed for the Royal Family when they were at the d'Chevaler. Chairs scraped back on a red-tiled floor as the officers stood.

"Majesty-"

The staff officer was cut off in midsentence. Stahlberg looked out the window contemplatively, and then returned his attention to the Generaalmajor.

"The good news is that it is a beautiful morning. The bad news is what you have to tell me."
"Yes, Majesty. We face an amphibious invasion."

Stahlberg smiled bitterly. "Wonderful."

Oberkommando der Koninlijke Kriegsmacht

At the moment, the situation maps showed little more than the steady approach of the enemy. Attempts at communication had failed. When the line of sonartransceivers detected submarine-launched weapons and the subsequent destruction of civilian shipping, the Koninlijke Marine went into action. Theirs would be the first strike.

At Sea

Launched a week before the Kharanji Navy had arrived, exercise Watchful Neptune 08 involved four of the KM's U212/214 type submarines. They sat quietly on the bottom, listening closely for decoys trailed by small KM corvettes, one of whom was now burning fiercely from a Kharanji torpedo. For the highly trained and aggressive captains of the four 'U-Booten', this was all they needed to commence firing against the enemy contacts. The Kharanji method of launching torpedoes involved compressed air, easily detected by the sensitive passive arrays of the U212/214. The return fire was delivered by water-ram expulsion, launching the torpedoes with a very low frequency "thrum," practically silent.

The weapon control teams guided the DM2A4 torpedoes via fibre optic cable guidance. In the sonar compartment, operators watched the fifty knot torpedo signatures merge with the presumed contacts and the massive splotch accompanying the far off "crump" that echoed through the boat. The 260 kilogram warhead had detonated, a hexagen explosive combined with aluminium powder to enhance the blast effect. The nearest equivalent was 460kgs of TNT. The torpedoes were equipped with both magnetic and contact fuze-pistols. The damage would be assessed when the engagement concluded.
On the surface, the Koninlijke Marine sortied and the Luftmacht scrambled. Everything was still beyond radar range, the one exception being airborne surface-search radars, potentially detected in turn by surface-based air-search radars.

The Kharanji Generals were not idle. Even as word came that the first torpedoes had struck successfully, the harsh red light of alert klaxons and the wails of sirens helped propel hundreds of aviators from uneasy sleep to sober awakening as they stumbled hastily onto the decks of the Suffer Not Injustice Class (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soviet_aircraft_carrier_Ulyanovsk) aircraft carriers that moved slowly and almost imperceptibly across the waves. Within ten minutes of the first strike the first waves of Kharanji aircraft were in the air. Within twenty, under rigid emissions control, the entire air complements of three of the carriers were approaching the Plaatische coast; flying blind, guided only by the twelve AWACS aircraft (a slightly modified version of the E-2C) that flew a distance behind them.

As a consequence the Luftmacht had no idea that some eight score Kharanji planes were inbound on a direct course towards them. However, the reflections from Luftmacht sea-search radars left the Kharanji with a fairly good idea of where to look -- an idea that could only get better as the planes approached their targets. At least in the minds of Kharanji air marshals.

Meanwhile, down below, the submarine squadrons were beginning to regroup after the initial torpedo strikes. As yet they had no idea that torpedoes had been launched against them; but given the Kharanji strategy of "shoot, then hide", it seemed unlikely that any torpedoes would ever reach them even so. They were proven wrong on two occasions. One was taken by surprise as it turned, the torpedo taking the submarine amidships and breaking it in two. The submarine perished with all hands, those who died mercifully dying within only seconds or minutes. The other was perhaps more fortunate. It was damaged in the blast; but no vital systems were destroyed, and it remained afloat. Missing, however, were its torpedo tubes; essentially, it was no longer usable as a warship, and it surfaced (despite the obvious risks thereof) and began a slow journey back to the fleet. It would likely see no combat for the duration of the invasion.

There were, however, definitely other submarines down there. The two losses, and the lack of any more visible ships in the vicinity which could have caused them, proved this; and the Kharanji submarines responded swiftly. They began to regroup. Moreover, they began releasing decoys; to the bellicose captains of the U-212/214s, it could appear as though twenty or thirty submarines had materialized out of the depths. The decoys served a twofold purpose: to hide the real submarines, which still had active sensors turned off, and to acquire firing solutions for the next wave of torpedoes.

Perhaps four torpedoes were deployed for every submarine of the enemy squadron. Noisy torpedoes, to be sure, but given the decoys in the way it would be more difficult to trace them back to their precise points of origin. Anyway, once they had been deployed the Kharanji submarines barely waited for confirmation of hits before changing course again and leaving their decoys behind. (They would either be blown up in engagements, or salvaged later on when this place had been conquered, anyway.)

And as for those corvettes .... elsewhere, a single submarine did not even bother to surface before unceremoniously firing twelve of its Shipwrecks (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P-700_Granit), in two swarms of six. It wasn't particularly silent, although the sea-skimming trajectory of the Shipwreck makes it more difficult to find on sea search radar; but to the minds of Kharanji command, the only particularly quiet part of this invasion so far was the air wing. And even that was unlikely to last, given the size of said air wing.

At Sea

The commanders of what the Koninlijke Marine referred to as Uhlan class submarines were thoroughly confused by their opposing numbers. With the sound conditions in the water already confused, the computers were approaching processing limits to quickly determine what signature was doing what and where. The reverberating crump as the engine spaces on one of the corvettes gave way to the ocean's pressure faded before it could echo through the hulls of either Kharanji or Plaatische submarine.

With a mission kill and a destroyed target to their credit, the Uhlans had no time to celebrate. A second DM2A4 torpedo was fired by the southernmost U212/214 (Uhlan), guided via fibre-optic cable as before being released to wake-home on the surfaced Kharanji submarine. By this point, the effect of the decoys was being seen.
The Uhlan was essentially a hole in the water. Bottomed as they were, and relieved of the need to use any active sensors, they could not yet be detected by the Kharanji. The decoy screen was easily distinguished from the submarine contacts as it was not moving, whereas the legitimate tracks were. Coupled with a second volley of torpedoes launched by compressed air and the grating screech of those torpedoes' engines, the Uhlans were able to fire a second volley of their own, again utilizing the DM2A4 torpedo.

This second volley was guided ten metres above the ocean floor via the fibre-optic cable until they passed under the decoy screen. At this point, the operators released the weapons to home passively. They had a maximum speed of some fifty knots and a maximum range of fifty kilometers: the Kharanji were certainly within range. Some of the blind-fired Kharanji torpedoes - for the decoy screen would shield any returns off the Plaatische submarines from the sensors of the Kharanji boats - came too close for comfort and were distracted by TAU 2000 countermeasures, in this case two jammer units and a quartet of decoys. Each Uhlan had fired four DM2A4s in the second volley.

All that remained of the corvette's sister ship was a slick of burning oil on the surface and a handful of survivors bobbing on the slight chop of the steel grey ocean in their garish orange lifejackets. She steamed at ahead flank to their rescue, defensive systems at full power, temporarily sacrificing sonar performance to cross the quarter-kilometer to their fellow sailors and pluck them from the water as fast as possible. Her CIWS managed to engage two of the Granit AShMs, while three obliterated her completely, the others needlessly engaging the disappearing wreck or flying past. The unrescued survivors gathered together in a circle and tilted heads back towards the sky, reciting the Naval Hymn.

In the Air

The Heimdallrs had long since returned to station, surface-search radars probing the edges of the Kharanji fleet. They could not help but notice the launch of the Kharanji aircraft, and notified their commanders automatically. Intelligence was being gathered, satellite overheads being compared with radar returns to come up with the figure of some three hundred and thirty surface vessels. Approximately.

A trio of AWACS belonging to the Luftmacht were now airborne, operating under EMCON. One of these aircraft was also charged with coordinating two squadrons of Bergellan AAE/Hawkins Tornado warplanes, while two flights of the same aircraft type were assigned to escort each AWACS currently operating.

Launched from an airfield 'behind' (when approaching from the coast) a large expanse of polder, the two squadrons - twenty four Tornados total - were completing a supercruise leg of their flight at 1.5 Mach. This brought them to seven hundred kilometers to the north of the Kharanji force.
Utilizing triangulation and their powerful onboard computers, the Luftmacht AWACS were listening hard instead of looking actively. As a result of this, they were able to detect and place their Kharanji equivalents in a target-box at a range greater than what they could themselves be detected. This telemetry was uploaded via datalink to the AIM-356A (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13610840&postcount=450) LRALAIM slung underneath each Tornado on an external ventral rack designed expressly by the Luftmacht for the AIM-356A + AAE/Hawkins combination.

Maintaining the supercruise, the two squadrons launched at 1.5 Mach exactly six hundred kilometers from the Kharanji AWACS. They then "turned and burned," accelerating to 1.6 Mach to dart away slightly faster than they'd come while the AIM-356A's hit their maximum velocity of some 4.0 Mach. The Luftmacht AWACS assigned to the Eye Gouge strike corrected the flightpath of the missiles onto the enemy command and control aircraft until their home-on-jam capability, something of a misnomer as it would also seek out radiating targets, had identified the radar source they were meant to track. Should the Kharanji deactivate their radars in an attempt to spoof the missiles, the AIM-356A would activate its own AESA radar to bring the missile to within twenty kilometers. Attempts to jam the missile would be reacted to passively by the home-on-jam capability. At the twenty kilometer mark, the imaging infrared guidance took over and concluded the engagement. The Tornado aircraft returned to base to be rearmed with BVRAAM missiles for the next phase of the engagement.

Meanwhile, six squadrons of F-124A Bullwhip air superiority fighters flew at 15,000 meters, throttled back to conserve fuel and increase the endurance of their combat air patrol. This CAP was supproted by two AWACS and a quartet of aerial tankers, located well behind what was expected to be the 'frontline.'

On Land

Rapid evacuation of civilians from the coastal areas had begun. The farmers so common to polder areas were suddenly met by military heavy-lift vehicles who loaded valuable livestock and existing grain crops and formed into convoys with their own privately owned vehicles. These were lifted directly to railheads which transported them directly to Gaullicana, the neighbouring nation kindly accepting Plaatzer refugees for humanitarian reasons. For realpolitik reasons, should the Dominion survive this war, they did not want to lose the 30% of their grain supply that De Vliggenplaat provided so readily.

Theatre air defence assets were deployed to their stations as described in Plan Black, a counter to amphibious invasion. Army units began to deploy as well, preparing defensive positions and camouflaging them heavily. The beaches themselves would not be contested. Before leaving, each civilian was given the chance to strike back at the enemy by placing antipersonnel and antitank landmines in mixed minefields under the guidance of Koninlijke Landmacht combat engineers. Mechanized minelaying equipment laid "insta-minefields" and all such defensive preparations involving mines were carefully mapped for later clearance.
In record time, Phase One of Plan Black had been completed, due entirely to the enlistment of the civilian population's aid. Panic in the streets was kept down by leather-lung'd noncommissioned officers issuing simple directions and displaying compassion, helping military police organize evacuation efforts. Gaullic movement control officers at the Plaatzer-Gaul border continued this trend, easily settling these refugees into rapidly expanding camps. Displaying their characteristic work ethic, these Plaatische citizens quickly made these camps their new temporary home. Ultranationalist songs were sung, part of a plan conceived by military intelligence in 1963 to convert any sense of loss and anguish to hatred for the invader.

Reserves were mobilized. A platoon of the King's Own Skirmishers, a battalion of the Luchtmobiele Brigade, were assigned to take up positions around each of the embassies located on the Koninlijkeplatz in Zutgen. Simultaneously with this, a diplomatic representative arrived and apologetically informed the Embassies of The United Kingdom of Brutland and Norden, The Republic of Zinaire, The Soverign Kingdom of Bruxella, The Greater Empire of Atruria, Chernobyl Pripyat, and Marlbaraq. Tellingly, the Van Luxemburgian embassy chose to stay in the Dominion, graciously accepting the additional grim-faced protection from the King's Own Skirmishers.
The Embassies on the Rue de Verigny in Valénce were evacuated quickly and without ado.

Avenue Maréchal

It was busy in the living room of the penthouse apartment. In fact, it was even busier than it would have seemed to the untrained eye; the whole top of both the Van Luxemburger politics and industry was represented there. Seated together in the privacy of the Grand Duke’s penthouse, – which was a place pretty much unknown to the average person in Van Luxemburg – They discussed the recent events in De Vliggenplaat, a nation in which the Grand Duchy held considerable interests. The meeting in the Grand-Ducal apartment was therefore nothing more than an emergency, with everyone directly involved having been hastily alarmed by the IVD, Van Luxemburgs’ intelligence service.

Every man and woman was gathered in a circle, made up of chairs and sofas taken from everywhere around the apartment, and listened to a single woman standing next to a large screen which showed a map of De Vliggenplaat. Her name was Ellen de Vries, previously a domestic agent for the IVD, now specialised in the Plaatische Dominion.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen. I’ll spare you all the technical talk, since we have some less experienced persons amidst us.’ She looked at the VLT and Monteluci representatives, who nodded, thanking her.

‘What we are facing, is an invasion. Well, not we, but De Vliggenplaat. A nation called Kharanjul, of which we have very little information as of now, has sent an invasion force. Our satellites picked up their fleet a few hours before the first shot was fired, but until reports from the Dominion came in, we had no idea where they were going. The first naval engagements are taking place as we speak, and it is just a matter of hours before the first troops reach the beaches, we reckon. The Kriegsmacht, as the Plaatischer people call their military, is probably not large enough to resist the invasion, judging from the amount of transport ships on their way.’

‘Ehm, excuse me, but about how much troops are we talking here?’ Eijsens, one of the highest officers within the Vun Lëtzebuerger Arméi, interrupted as De Vries told her story.

‘Judging from the amount of transports, we are talking about a force of around a million men, maybe larger.’ De Vries responded, waiting for Eijsens to nod before she carried on.

‘The Grand Duchy not only has an embassy within the Dominion. The reason the representatives from the VLT Group are here is that we own a considerable amount of factories in De Vliggenplaat, factories which could be used for wartime production by a possible oppressor. The IVD’s plans are to make a special request to the Dominion government, namely to declare the factory our national property for the time being. We will send military units to guard that property, and Kharanjul will have a huge problem if he will attack that property. Naturally, we will give out a statement to the invaders that will make that absolutely clear.’

‘So, let me make this clear, we should sent troops to guard our properties?’ Philippe Dermont was the minister of Defence, and he seemed a bit surprised by this information. He might even have sounded sceptical of the idea.

‘Yes, indeed. I would recommend a force of around 500 soldiers, with several vehicles. PIV-28’s, PIV-30’s and one or two TD7’s and MT-38 Holzwollefs. We would require air support from the Plaatische Luftmacht or from the Van Luxemburger mainland, since we don’t have any bases on the spot. The mission for these troops will mainly be the protection of the VLT Group factories, as well as the Van Luxemburger embassy in Zutgen. I already have made several arrangements with Sir Eijsens here, so the troops are ready.’

‘Very well then, Miss De Vries. I personally approve this plan. Philippe, Nicolas, what do we think?’

Both Philippe Dermont and Nicolas Hirtz made an agreeing gesture, though they did not seem too sure of it.

‘That settles it, I think. Since this is an emergency measure, I will sign the papers myself as a matter of national security. We don’t want it to get clogged up in the bureaucratic mill of politics, is it?’ Grand Duke Koen remarked, as he took a pen and the piece of paper offered to him. He signed the paper with a quick and swift movement, allowing the soldiers currently standing by to leave to De Vliggenplaat immediately.

Aduard ALD Base

‘Arméi Loft Divisioun’ was stickered in bright white letters on the tail of the Airbus A400M, one of the military transport aircraft of the Vun Lëtzebuerger Arméi. There were multiple types of aircraft being loaded, but they all had the same destination: Whelsgruen Airfield in the Dominion of De Vliggenplaat. Amongst the aircraft were Airbus A380’s, Boeing 787’s and, as said before, Airbus A400M’s. They would transport both the troops and their equipment, which was currently being loaded aboard the planes.

The vehicles that would go with the mission were standing in a long row, being distributed over the various aircraft by the commander of the mission, a Brigadier named Harm Alverna. He was reading up from a long list he carried, listing all his troops and equipment.

GROUSSHERZOGLICHE VUN LËTZEBUERGER ARMÉI
AUSRÜSTUNGSLËSCHT
OPERATIOUN WINTER JACKET

COMM BRIG. ALVERNA 10678111

4X MT-38 HOLZWOLLEF
4X TD-7 ARTILLERIE
10X PIV-30
10X PIV-28
15X MONTELUCI M6
15X VLT M5

NO. ENSEMBEL 500 TROUPES
AUSRÜSTING
SJK13
SP226
FN MINIMI 7.62
FN MAG
FN M2HB
AI AW (L96)
AI AW (.50)
ÉQUIPEMENT STANDARD ARMÉI
10X ERYX AT
250X MISSILE ERYX AT
150X PANZERFAUST 3 IT-600
10X STARSTREAK MOD. VL
150X MISSILE STARSTREAK MOD. VL
2X HK GMG

As the troops and equipment were slowly loaded aboard the aircraft, the first Airbuses were already taking off, escorted by several DAS-2 Spectre fighter aircraft. They had been configured for a long-time CAP and escort flight, with enough equipment and missiles to fight in possible hostile engagements.

As this all took place, a message was sent by the Ministry of Defence, in cooperation with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, to all nations involved, Kharanjul especially.

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b76/VanLuxemburg/Headers/DefenseHeader.png

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b76/VanLuxemburg/Headers/ForeignHeader.png
Official announcement
Subject: Vliggenplaat conflict/ Operation Winter Jacket

Reports of an invasion of the Dominion of De Vliggenplaat have reached us in the last few hours. As a response to this, the Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg has prepared a special taskforce who will execute ‘Operation Winter Jacket’. Please note that this operation is NOT hostile whatsoever to any invading troops: Operation Winter Jacket is purely dedicated to the protection of Van Luxemburger holdings in the Dominion of De Vliggenplaat. These holdings include:

Grand-Ducal Embassy grounds, King’s Square, Zutgen
VLT Factory building, Osserlo
VLT Factory building, Herztenbosch
VLT Importer, Groendaalen
Monteluci Importer, Groendaalen
VLT Group Vliggenplaat HQ, Zutgen

We wish to make clear that the troops sent to De Vliggenplaat will only be stationed in these buildings, who have temporarily been placed on Van Luxemburger soil. This means that these buildings are officially neutral during the invasion and afterwards. They will be guarded by taskforce Operation Winter Jacket.

These troops will only open fire on openly hostile units of both sides, regardless of the situation. Attacking these neutral troops will result in a professional and violent armed response. They will be sufficiently marked as neutral troops with Vun Lëtzebuerger flags and logos painted on their vehicles, as well as a contrasting camouflage (Blue-grey-green, with red lions on helmet and shoulder patches).

Please note that any aggression against Van Luxemburger nationals inside these buildings will result in military action, appropriate to the aggression exerted upon these nationals. All Van Luxemburger nationals in the Dominion of De Vliggenplaat should have retreated to these protected buildings, or have left the country. The Grand-Duchy is not responsible for any of it’s nationals not fitting this description.

The troops destined to participate in Operation Winter Jacket will be flown in to Whelsgruen Airfield, starting in 4 hours. They can be easily identified, and a special radio channel has been opened to let Van Luxemburger military troops communicate with both sides in this conflict. This radio channel is 134.000 AM, and will be used only for interwar communications.

Signed,

Philippe Dermont,
Minister of Defence

Jens Blom
Minister of Foreign Affairs

Brigadier Harm Alverna
Commander, Operation Winter Jacket
Van Luxemburger Grand-Ducal Military

THE GRAND DUCHY OF VAN LUXEMBURG

As it might transpire, the torpedoes were the only things actually emitting an active signal in those waters. Well, they and a few of the decoys, as well. As a result, the Kharanji were only firing blindly; the proverbial bullets would find targets themselves. At least, so it went in theory.

However, Kharanjul's manufacturing capability, while extensive, was not inclined to produce exceptional products. These torpedoes were no different. One of them exploded upon coming into contact with a medium-sized school of fish. Another one veered wildly off course and, having reached the end of its range, blew up about thirty kilometers south of the engagement. Most of the others failed to do anything but call attention to themselves; and most, as a result, never reached their targets.

The Plaatische torpedoes by contrast were well made, quiet, and less prone to malfunctions. However, they were relying on passive sonar; and the Kharanji submarines were issuing no active signals and were moving anyway (as silently as could be expected), making them somewhat more difficult to find. As the initial Plaatische torpedo launches had been very quiet, the Kharanji listened carefully for signs of incoming weapons; countermeasures were deployed when torpedoes got too close, but after a short time the waters became quiet again, and the submarines rested a little farther from the shore to regroup and await further orders.

Exact losses remained unknown. Contact had been lost with two submarines; one of them, judging from rather hazy reports, had been lost, and the whereabouts of the second were unknown. Presumably it was still active, as the Kharanji had not recorded any signs of sinking; but who knew. The submarines did not return fire this time; instead, they bottomed out, descending as far as the crews could stand it and attempting to sound out the topography of the ocean floor. Their mission now, to await the fleet. It was less than a day's sail away now, and entering missile range to attack the Plaatische shore; but it moved slowly, and it launched no attacks either. It waited. For the battle was only to begin in the air.

***

Metaphorical alarm bells rang through twelve AWACS/ELINT aircrafts as they lit up the missiles fast approaching them. Bells aren't standard issue in Kharanji aircraft, but radar screens do beep; and while the response was rather subdued from the small crews, tremors and undercurrents of adrenaline governed their actions (with official policy as secondary) as they proceeded to shut off their radars. However, a moment later they realized it wasn't helping: the missiles, having lost their targets, had turned on their AESA and the reflections were still noticeable, indicating that the trajectory had not changed. Impact would be within less than a minute.

The Kharanji wasted no time. The officers fed the information about the swarm of missiles, including approximate number, velocity, and apparent trajectory, into the onboard computers and transmitted it. Not to the fighter planes that escorted them and preceded them en route to the first air battle of the war; but to the ships, as the AWACS/ELINT themselves were still within the fleet's air defense bubble. Specifically, to a frigate known as the Lady Macbeth of Mtensk. Lady Macbeth, in turn, angled its missile launchers to the sky and belched a sufficient quantity of surface-to-air missiles to engage the incoming swarm. (The missiles acted a little bit like smaller versions of the Granit; collecting in small individual clusters, gaining targeting data and engaging all targets within range. The version of home-on-jam they used, while not exactly state of the art, performed well enough to suffice.)

***

Official Message
from: Kharanjul Ministry of Foreign Affairs
to: Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg
subject: Re: Vliggenplaat conflict/Operation Winter Jacket

Dear Sir or Madam:

We at the Kharanjul Ministry of Foreign Affairs thank you for your input, and please be advised that your suggestion has already been brought up in MoFA discussions. As you know, we have nothing but the greatest of respect for your organization or corporation; we will do our best to satisfy your requests, and and will do anything within our power to assist you in any way you may require. If you have any further questions or concerns, do not hesitate to contact us at the number listed below.

This has been an automated message. If you feel that you have received this message in error, please destroy all copies and inform Janet Rubin, 2nd Assistant to the Deputy Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs, at 8196 733 392 145 ext. 71A6.

Janet Rubin was a frazzled and overworked office drone with a meaningless title and who gave not a fig for international affairs. She had a family to feed, after all.

Ebon Tor, Magna Casa, Aequatius Prime

President Castle went over the latest reports concerning the situation growing in South Zabiland, having talked with the Doomani secretly about a joint operation with the Zhardesians, when she was interrupted by the entrance of an aide delivering another report from the National Reconnaissance Office and Aequatian Republic Intelligence Agency, "Let me guess, urgent?" She asked as the aide nodded sarcastically, placed it on her desk and exited the room. Reading through the report, it outlined the threat faced by the Dominion of De Vliggenplaat, she called upon the Joint Chiefs of Staff for advice concerning the Republic's response to what was a standing threat of aggression against an important economic interest. Within the hour, Castle was before the Joint Chiefs, "What can we do to rectify this situation?"

"Madam President, the main threat still lies out at sea," Started Army Field Marshall Krist Von Mann, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, "The deployment of maritime strike bombers and fighter escorts to help thin the Kharani fleet before they make landfall would be the best use of our resources with a simultaneous deployment of ground forces from either the Army or Marines to help defend the nation against their amphibious assault."

"What do we have nearby that can help?" Asked Castle as she sipped from a tall glass of ice water, "I want people to realize that they cannot merely threaten out interests without a response from us."

Marine General Margaret Dixon, the J-3 Operations officer, cleared her throat, "The units that can be deployed the quickest to De Vliggenplaat would either be the Army's Three Commando Brigade immediately, or given the time, the First Marine Expeditionary Force with the First and Second Divisions could be mobilized and deployed."

"Excellent," Replied the president as the meeting continued until the matter was brought before an emergency session of the National Senate, who agreed wholeheartedly that the Republic should move to defend the Plaatische people against foreign aggression as the soldiers, airmen, marines and sailors of the Aequatian Republic prepared for war.

Hawker Army Airbase, Arrio, Aequatius Prime

The warming weather and beginning of summer had brought out several Aequatians to their yards for barbeques and other activities, one of which Peter Innes had planned until it was canceled when his wife had handed him the telephone. The company of paratroopers the young captain commanded had been called for an immediate mobilization as he kissed his wife and children goodbye as he collected his personal kit. Changing his khaki shorts, white tee-shirt and brown leather sandals for his issue Battle Dress Uniform in the Woodland DARPAT (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/Camouflage/WD-DARPAT.png) and Mark.IA sage green suede combat boots before making his way down the stairs, his son holding his father's M7 Parachutist's Combat Helmet up for the officer as he took it with a smile while his daughter wore her father's maroon beret with the bronze Airborne badge, the hat's brim falling over her eyes as he retrieved that from the little girl. Kissing them again and embracing his wife once again as she said through tears, "Be safe," She whispered in his ear as he pulled away hesitantly.

"I will," He replied before making his way to the pick-up truck in the driveway and placed his large rucksack into the back of the vehicle as he pulled into the street and made his way to the base where the entire force of 3 Commando Brigade had bee assembled. Meeting with his executive officer, he looked over the formation as it grew in numbers, "Whole brigade's here?"

"It would seem like this is for real, Pete," Said the lieutenant, "We're going to De Vliggenplaat, so I've heard," He took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled, "Drawing a line in the sand it would seem."

"Let's get to work then," Replied the captain as he walked out to his company as they lined up on the tarmac, each soldier wearing full kit and combat loads with their maroon berets atop their heads. Within a few hours they would be in the air en route to the Dominion of De Vliggenplaat.

Luftmacht Airfield Nr. 37, De Vliggenplaat

Master Sergeant Nathan Beecher hefted his oversized rucksack onto his back with his right arm and carried his SSG138 sniper's rifle in his left hand as he walked with the rest of the deployed personnel of Alpha Troop of the Strategic Assistance Service Regiment who had arrived within hours of the Republic's decision to mobilize in support of their ally. Lieutenant-Colonel Jean Arzach, the troop's top officer had already met with the Plaatzer headquarters they would be working with until the arrival of 3 Commando Brigade as the remaining troopers housed themselves in one of the base's empty barracks temporarily provided by the Plaatische Luftmacht.

Beecher's team was headed by Major Eric Gates, a veteran special forces soldier, who had already proven himself many campaigns previously in combat for promotion to a higher billet, it was at his request that he remain commanding a special forces Alpha Team until the formation of the Strategic Assistance Service Regiment when he was requested by name to be among its members. The officer sat with the rest of his team as they made the final adjustments on weapons and other personal kit while waiting for the word to move from Troop HQ, himself cleaning his customized SCAR-85 rifle as Beecher filled the short ten-round magazines for his own rifle, "How long do you think we'll be out here, major?"

"From what I've seen from the Plaatzers," Gates started as he finished assembling his weapon and set it down on his lap, "I'd have to say only a matter of two weeks after the first 'julies make landfall."

"Here's hoping," Replied one of the other troopers as they sat and waited.

Inlichtingen- en Veiligheidsdienst, Chateau Vianden, The Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg

'An automated response message? That doesn't sound too good.' The voice from the other side of the telephone line answered. The connection was bad, and noises from the caller - including heavy aircraft engines, talking, laughing and the continuous breathing of the person - made it hard to communicate, especially as the call involved some very important matters that needed talking over.

'No, indeed. I'll be trying to reach their Ministry of Foreign Affairs, so don't worry too much about it. I'll call you back.' De Vries put the phone down, and immediately picked it up again to make another call, this time to Kharanjul. She entered the phone number in the PC that would also record the complete conversation, as was usual with this type of phone calls. As soon as someone answered the phone, she started with her story.

'Goodafternoon, Ellis de Vries, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, The Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg. I believe there has been a mistake with a message we sent. I received an automated response message, in reply to a very important official announcement from the Grand Duchy. I wish to make sure that it has been read and that your Ministry of Defence, and the troops out in the field have been instructed.' De Vries went on with her story, without allowing the employee on the other side to reply, just yet. For security reasons, De Vries had stated she was with the Van Luxemburger Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but in fact, she was with the Intelligence and Security Agency, and mostly coordinated Operation Winter Jacket.

'I want to be absolutely sure that the message has reached the right recipient. It is a matter that could have grave consequences if not executed properly. And I do not want to wait, since this is very urgent.' She very much stressed the last two sentences, to make sure that she was very serious.

Whelsgruen Airfield, De Vliggenplaat

4 hours after the planes had left Van Luxemburger tarmac, they landed on Plaatischer tarmac, following eachother closely. Meanwhile, their escorts turned around, heading back to the safer regions of the world.

Meanwhile, troops unloaded from their transport aircraft, taking their vehicles with them. Even while the unloading process went fairly quickly, it was not fast enough for the pilots of the aircraft. Even though they realised they were not the ones that would stay in a war zone and were far more lucky than the troops they were unloading, still, they wanted to get out, and end up with a hot cup of coffee in the crew mess in Aduard.

Therefore, it took only a half an hour to complete unloading everything, and the airplanes were on their way back already. While the roar of the last of the transports vanished from the skies, the first vehicles already drove off the airfield, heading towards their destinations. The first few kilometres, the long column slowly moved over the roads, the troops looking at the landscape from their vehicles.

That landscape quite closely resembled their home region, as most troops came from Sint Annabeek, a region that was known for being one of the lowest in Van Luxemburg in terms of height above sea level. They were not wondering what the landscape in De Vliggenplaat would look like, as they already knew: it would be exactly the same as at home. The polder landscape, with scattered woods and idyllic villages dotted around, it was all familiar. They knew they should not try to enter the small local roads, as bridges would be too narrow. They knew that there would be too much moist in the ground, so that they shouldn't drive their tanks into the grasslands. They knew they would be stopped dead in their tracks on grasslands anyways, as irrigation channels would be around every piece of land.

So, they were now making good progress on the national highway system, steadily doing 70 km/h on the hard shoulder, wherever possible. It was usual for Van Luxemburgers to make use of the hard shoulder for military vehicles, as the other lanes were reserved for way faster vehicles. Even if that was not the case now, the vehicles kept to their practice, and clearly moved on the outer right lane. However, the convoy slowly became shorter as the hours progressed, as troops destined for several VLT factories took different roads to reach their destination. But, finally, after an hour and a half, the last vehicles reached their final destination, the Van Luxemburger embassy in Zutgen. By now, no tanks were left, nor were there any artillery pieces. What rested, was an ample amount of troops, around 100 men and women, including the missions' staff. They would accompany the embassy staff and several other Van Luxemburger nationals residing in the diplomatic building in central Zutgen.

Just like on the other properties, the embassy was quickly rearranged to a building that could serve as a stronghold for a while to come. Protected by barbed wire, mines, walls, sandbags and tank obstacles, the embassy was heavily protected and ready for a possible siege, guarded by 100 very skilled soldiers of the Sint-Annabeekse Huzaren, as well as their vehicles, license-produced Sumerian PIV-28 and PIV-30 Infantry Fighting Vehicles. This was complemented by a relatively large number of Monteluci M6 reconaissance vehicles, that could serve as communications between the Van Luxemburger strongholds in De Vliggenplaat in case the radio would be jammed.

This could all prove to be unneeded, or maybe even futile. But, at least, the troops were ready.

Along Movement Routes designated "Victor"

The distinctively attired Luxemburger troops were met with friendly waves from troops deploying to their ready positions and easy to follow directions from the Movement Control Officers (MCOs) who helped speed their advance quickly through the Plaatische countryside to their destinations.

Civilian traffic was practically nonexistant: all civilian vehicles that were not of the truck class had been taken under military control and placed out of the way, some parked on lawns, others standing by to be used as barricades on various roadways should it become necessary. The civilians to whom these vehicles belonged had been issued with receipts and were now well on their way to camps on the far side of the Dominion and Gaullicana. Houses were locked tight, possessions mostly stored hastily in boxes in the basement.

"The Residence," Zutgen

"Magnificient. And to think, the Red Party told me that the capitalists in Aequatio would never come to our aid. And the same for Van Luxemburg."

The King was drafting a kind hearted diplomatic response to the aid the Aequatians were more than willingly providing under the Castle Doctrine. He assured the people of Aequatio that their son's, brother's, and father's lives - and those of their daughters, sisters, and mothers - would not be spent in vain and that at all times Aequatian forces would remain under Aequatian leadership. von Stahlberg expected this last to be popular with the Aequatians. It was in terrain such as Vliggenplaat's that the 1st Canadian Army had suffered such massive losses due to the prodding of British Generals.

He had a tendancy to drift off on side topics while continuing his task almost on autopilot. His military staff had better things to do than to dote on him, as he was not a military leader, and never pretended to be. A Captain from the King's Guard was in the room, seated comfortably on a recliner with a cup of tea balanced on a saucer. His Sig pistol was within a half-second's draw, despite the man's apparent ease.

"And I hear that the Luxemburgers even speak a sort of Plaatische, ja? Sounds a little odd, but perfectly understandable. Wonderful!"

Luftmacht Airfield Nr. 37

It was the task of Colonel Joachim von Teurensfeld to liase with the Aequatians of Three Commando Brigade. Teurensfeld was impressed with the maroon-bereted soldiers he drove past, as were the military police providing airfield security and his driver/adjutant, a Second Lieutenant. It took a moment to orient themselves with the map of the airfield neither man had been to before, and they then drove past a trio of large hangars that had been converted to temporary barracks for the Commandos.

The G-Wagen halted beside a trio of patrolling MPs, who gave directions to the building housing the Brigade's commanding officer. Tweede Luitenant Kruizenga accompanied his Colonel up the stairs leading to the front door and heard the Kolonel make himself known to the sentry.

"Colonel von Teurensfeld, Royal Army, liason officer to the Aequatian Third Commando."

The words "Hello, this is Janet Rubin at the Kharanjul Ministry of Foreign Affairs, how may I help you today?" released quickly enough that there seemed no separation whatsoever between them. The words ran into one another, rendering them almost unintelligible.

A pause. A long pause, in fact, broken only by swiftly stifled attempts to respond.

"A message, you say, ma'am? For the Ministry of War? Hold on for a moment while I look it up." Janet Rubin had not lost her rapid means of speech, and abandoned the telephone for about forty-five seconds to allow De Vries to digest it.

"That's been confirmed ma'am, the message has reached the Ministry of War; it's in the computer's database and listed as received."

Short pause.

"I wouldn't know anything about that, ma'am."

Slightly shorter pause.

"No ma'am, I didn't send the response. I don't have any information about that. That isn't my job."

Short pause.

"All right, I'll connect you. Please hold."

The hold is a short one by Kharanji standards; only about four minutes. Then a man's voice comes over the phone; one that sounds as though it has the power of great authority behind it. De Vries would be pleased to learn that this man held the illustrious position of Junior Deputy Undersecretary to the Assistant Minister of Foreign Affairs. "Antoine Tainton speaking."

Antoine Tainton was aware of the message. Yes, it was in the database. According to the computer a response had been sent. Yes, the response had not been sent in error. He couldn't say if the Minister of War had actually read the message, to be sure; the Minister of War was a very busy man. You wished to speak to someone in the Ministry of War? He would connect you straightaway. But the Ministry of War was very busy these days because of the needs of the armed forces. Antoine Tainton didn't think anyone in Foreign Affairs could help you; no, the Senior Deputy Undersecretary was out to lunch, and the Assistant Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs were in a meeting and he didn't know when they'd be back.

At length De Vries was put on hold once again to connect to the Ministry of War. The hold time this time was about twenty minutes; a little below average for Kharanjul, but this was an important call after all.

Inlichtingen- en Veiligheidsdienst, Chateau Vianden, The Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg

Ellis de Vries tapped her fingers on the desk as she waited before someone answered the phone at the Kharanjul Ministry of War. Meanwhile, she read through the message she previously received once again, and wondered if it indeed had been received and, more importantly, read in Kharanjul. While she waited, she also was on the phone with Brigadier Alverna, who was also listening to the response of the Kharanjul Ministry over a second phone line.

'Why, o why do I have the idea that they aren't taking us seriously?' Alverna said, while a waiting tone played on the background.

'Maybe because I've been waiting for nearly half an hour already, and now only know that everyone's away, and that the message has been received, but they have no idea if it has been actually read?' De Vries responded, speaking quickly out of irritation.

'Calm down, calm down. That was a rhetorical question, actually. But really, if they don't acknowledge it, we'll be in deep trouble here. 500 men against a million-men force, that's practically impossible.' Alverna tried to calm down De Vries, but for some reason, he was not able to.

'Yes, thanks for the heads-up. Remember that we will be unable to evacuate you out of DV, right?' She replied.

Alverna sighed in the telephone, causing it to crackle.
'Ugh, nevermind...'

De Vries was preparing to reply once more, but was interrupted by a reply from the other line. She once again went through her story like she told before, but now amended it, as she did not wanted to be sent off with some loose promises.

'Goodafternoon, Ellis de Vries, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, The Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg. I believe there has been a mistake with a message we sent. I received an automated response message, in reply to a very important official announcement from the Grand Duchy. I wish to make sure that it has been read and that your Ministry of War, and the troops out in the field have been instructed. I have been put through from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Kharanjul, as you'll probably know, so I now know it has been received. I however want to verify that it has been read and everyone knows about it. If the message is neglected, I believe both our nations will be having some problems. I also have the commander of the operation on the other line, and he's very impatient, and I rather don't want to upset him.' De Vries spoke, indeed repeating the same story she used to introduce herself at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. On the other line, unable to be heard by the Ministry of War official, Harm Alverna was laughing at Ellis' description of him, followed by some grinning from what probably would be other soldiers at the place Alverna was calling from.

In the meantime, Ellis was waiting for a reply.

The woman whom de Vries first encountered did not even give her name, and there was no background noise to the conversation; one had the impression, from the start, that the Ministry of War was far larger, better-staffed, and better-funded than the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or for that matter any other department of the Kharanji government. She listened to de Vries's recital with apparent attentiveness, although in reality she had stopped listening after "Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg" came through the line. All that was required was a "One moment, please."

The one moment was a little under thirty seconds. Then a man's voice came through the line; authoritative, learned, but at this moment smooth and imperturbable. "Alban Moritz," he said. "How may I help you?"

If de Vries had done her research she would recognize the name. Moritz was Minister of War, and commander-in-chief of all the military forces. With the Emperor but a figurehead, and now old and ill, the Ministers held the real power; and with the backing of the army, Moritz was the most influential of the lot.

"I did receive the document you specify," Moritz said after a moment, and proceeded to read aloud the first sentence or two to confirm that indeed it was in his possession.

He paused. de Vries was asking a question. "Well, you see, therein lies the difficulty. The Ministry of War is very busy, of course, especially now with several million men being deployed overseas; additional special instructions could take time to arrive, and of course the orders would need to spread down to the company commanders, which would take more time. I will naturally include the message in the next set of instructions to be relayed to the task force, but it doesn't guarantee that your people on the ground will be protected."

de Vries started to say something, but Moritz cut her off. "Of course, there are ways to ensure the total safety and security of your men, but unfortunately they are not cost-effective at present... most of our resources are being directed towards supply convoys and maintaining the forces we already have deployed, and relaying additional messages and specific tactical instructions at the level of detail you have suggested would require utilizing devices currently marked specifically for home defense and thus not configured to send transmissions over long distances. And going to all that expense for the sake of what, a few hundred men?"

really sorry about the delays.... >.<

OOC: Apologies for the delay, I was waiting to see if you were still alive. Here goes.

At Sea

The Uhlan class boats were doing exceptionally well. Thanks to careful positioning and the odd deployment of a decoy screen by the Kharanji between them and their targets, four submarines had effectively seen off thirty. The second barrage of DM2A4 torpedoes released to passive sonar would track in on any noise detected behind the decoy screen - the movement of the Kharanjul submarines might be sufficient to have one home in on its rear area, or it might not be. One of the torpedoes confused itself and attacked a decoy, exploding rather spectacularly.

While this engagement concluded itself, watched with baited breath by those monitoring the Coastal SONAR Picquet Line (CSoPL), the remainder of the Koninlijke Marine's Uhlan submarines deployed to sea. The majority of the surface assets ran at flank speed to the south, skirting the coastline to shelter in Gaullic waters just outside the radar envelope of the massive Kharanji invasion fleet.

Above the Sea

As the Kharanji AWACS/ELINT aircraft detected the approach of the AIM-356A swarm, they killed their active sensors. This immediately caused the Starkillers to compute a sigh and activate the AESA array, centering the targets in the view of the imaging infrared FPA's field of view. As the range rapidly ticked down - the kinematics of the launch aircraft being highly beneficial to the approach speed of the Starkiller - it became clear that the missiles fired by the Lady Macbeth of Mtensk would not arrive in time to defeat the Starkillers before the Kharanji fliers in the large E2-esque targets died.
Apparently unjammed, the Starkillers used both their radars and IIR guidance to streak across the last twenty kilometers and detonate in the airspace immediately adjacent to, or on the skin of, the Kharanji aircraft.

The next air battle, if the fighter group continued towards land, would take place outside the range of the Kharanji fleet's air defence assets.

The Kharanji pilots came to the same conclusion as the Plaatische shortly after their enemies did. Either way they were going to have to do something themselves.

The orders relayed were hushed and almost calm in tone; chaos was not the Kharanji's preferred way to die. "Evasive maneuvers." "Release countermeasures." "Establishing uplink with Macbeth...."

At minus thirty seconds the aircraft broke formation and flew away from the oncoming missiles, like a flock of geese scattering at a sudden gust of wind. On board Macbeth a few minor mid-course corrections were made to the flightpath of the surface-to-air missiles, rapidly approaching the final phase as they discarded guidance to seek targets on their own.

At minus twenty-five seconds, not quite as unison, chaff and radar decoys were released. However, only a few Plaatische missiles were fooled; most had already entered the final stage and engaged infrared.

At minus fifteen seconds, seeing that the radar decoys were having little effect, the Kharanji pilots dropped flares, and continued evasive maneuvers. The Macbeth's missiles had meanwhile picked out specific targets among the Plaatische missiles and were moving in quickly, although not quickly enough.

At zero the bulk of the Plaatische missiles engaged their targets. The countermeasures were not entirely effective, as five Kharanji aircraft met their doom; a sixth was in the throes of an evasive maneuver when the Macbeth's missiles hit the missile tailing it; but its crew's relief was short-lived, as another of the Kharanji missiles -- failing to find any other targets -- struck it instead, scattering its finely pulverized debris across the ocean surface.

The men and planes could be replaced, but the Kharanji knew they had already lost some of the advantage. The survivors were to remain under EMCON for as long as humanly possible; but whether it would have any effect now remained to be seen. A new flightpath was charted for the air group to follow, to throw off Plaatische aircraft tracking them; but then, unless it was actively radiating, they couldn't really see anything in front of them.

Aboard the AWACS controlling the strike that had been made by the Tornado aircraft, final messages were received from the missiles through the datalink: "IIR TGT CNFD. ENG. END." Converted into something approximating English: "Imaging Infrared target lock confirmed, engaging now, end message." The Primary Radar Operator, or PRO in short, waited ten seconds before activating the air search array and making a six second sweep of the area the Kharanji aircraft and missiles from the Mtensk occupied. It was enough to confirm that the AWACS had been destroyed, get a rough headcount of the Kharanji fliers, and confirm that the fleet was able to engage missile targets out to this range. Radar deactivated and with the Defensive Systems Operator hunched over his panel, this AWACS broke off to return to base.

The CAP mission, supported by two AWACS, received a third as the system originally returning to base was retasked, bringing with it its flight of escorting Tornados, who having expended the fuel in their conformal centreline tanks, had another few hours left throttled back. Its fuel was sufficient for another three hours of flight time and there was a half hour emergency reserve available. These AWACS formed a shallow triangle just below the CAP and randomly switched illumination duty between them. As with nearly all airborne radars, they had a large sidelobe, making them vulnerable to antiradiation missiles and detection, as well as increasing their vulnerability to jammers. The principle counter to airborne jammers was the superior power available to an AWACS. Technique mattered a lot, but a solid electronic fist to the circuitry jaw could trump technique.

With the Eye Gouge strike completed, it now came down to what would likely be a brief waiting game.

With the sporadic air-search illumination, the Kharanji were most likely aware by now that they were being tracked, but as it was only for a few seconds every couple of minutes, and switching between three widely separate sources seemingly at random, made for a hard threat to counter. An analogy would be knowing there are police waiting for you down the street, because you can see their flashlights through the fog, but you're not sure if there's just one of them that's moving around a lot or if he has backup, or if he can see you at all. In this case the Kharanji could be fairly certain that the cops had seen them, but weren't constantly watching them - just tracking their new movements until they crossed a phase line on the control maps of the AWACS.

Denis Maelin was one of the KIAF's youngest and most inexperienced commanders. Circumstance and the line of command had placed him in his current position, which was at the moment in charge of an air group designated as Air Group One. Air Group One was in turn fast approaching the shores of de Vliggenplaat, already starting to slow down as it reached an imaginary line; meanwhile, Maelin was talking to himself.

There were others present in the room, of course; but his words didn't seem directed at them, so they didn't respond to them. "They have the advantage, of course; they don't have to do anything, just to wait until we show up," Maelin said, tracing a line on a map.

"Yes, sir."

"Our forces are right here. They know this. They don't know exactly how many we have, what they're made of, but they know where we are. This gives them another advantage."

"Yes, sir."

"One I don't intend to let them keep. Commodore, what do you think of splitting the air group into three wings?"

This caught the Commodore off guard; he wasn't often asked for his opinion by people with the legal ability to shoot him in the throat no questions asked. "I, er, I think it's a very good idea, sir, most definitely."

"Really?" said Maelin absently. "I think it stinks. And you know why?" He didn't bother to pause for effect. "Because it leaves each group with only two Ay-wacks. Destroy 'em both, that wing's flying blind. No, I have other ideas."

He turned away from the other officers to study his material. Large maps spread themselves on the screen before him. He studied them thoughtfully. "Bases here, here, here, and here. Cities here, here, here. Air group here. Their air group somewhere in this area."

It was that "somewhere in this area" that bothered him. Only the work of a moment to give an order and sudden illumination flooded the Plaatische aircraft lying in wait as the Kharanji AWACS activated their radars for all of ten seconds. As suddenly as contacts filled the screens, they were gone, and the Kharanji air group in turn suddenly began to slow down and change direction so that its trajectory brought it further away from the targets it had now detected.

The information pleased Denis Maelin, and he counted the enemy aircraft slowly and luxuriously. But not too slowly, since there was always the off chance he'd have more missile strikes to deal with. "Approaching the Imaginary Line, are we?" he said softly. "All right."

Out there, seventy-two fighter planes slowed to subsonic velocities (a crawl in terms of air combat), maintaining the same course as the AWACS. Seventy-two accelerated slightly as they began to form up into fighting shape, adopting standard tactical combinations of low/high, rookie/veteran, leader/wingman; for they were expecting, if not an all-out attack from the enemy, at least some targets to arise within the next fifteen seconds. There were some differences between the Kharanji Imaginary Line and the Plaatische, of course, but they were fundamentally the same line; at very least on a conceptual level.

They crossed it.

The Plaatische air commander was pleased that the rhythmic shifting of illumination duties between the three AWACS had not yet resulted in a retaliatory Eye Gouge strike. It had provided the Plaatischers with outstanding intelligence concerning target track size and formation. Using this information, they were able to outline a rough idea of their enemy's dispositions. This latter task was made easier by the efforts of Wing Intelligence Officers on the ground, occasionally relayed data from the AWACS system operators in the air.

When the Kharanji activated their own air search radars, the Plaatische were not surprised. They weren't surprised when those sets flipped off after a ten second sweep either. When it was time for their next sweep, they noted the change of course the Kharanji fliers had made and sent another communication to the WIOs on the ground. Since it was clear to everybody who'd seen it, the AWACS marked off the positions of their counterpart systems on their digital map displays without waiting for the unnecessary analysis from the Wing Intelligence Officers, who operating under RESCOM themselves were not inclined to state the obvious to their colleagues.

Tornado pilots suddenly received new orders. In compliance with these orders, they dropped tanks and pushed their throttles forward, rocketing off away from the subsonic Kharanji group. As they were substantially-reduced-signature aircraft (the Luftmacht did not like the phrase "stealth") the Tornadoes were the ideal candidates for this new tasking. Their internal weapons bays held six AIM-359A Star Thrasher AMRAAMs, four Starfires and two Star Blades. They only intended to use the AIM-359A missiles at the moment, and the flight of four climbed to altitude above the Kharanji AWACS some three hundred nautical miles away, traveling at supercruise speeds of 1.6 Mach.
Ten seconds before the next pulse of Plaatische radar activity, the AWACS established a datalink with all of the Tornadoes. Then the radar was active, and the Plaatische pilots shoved their throttles roughly against their stops, feeling the exhilaration as the twin Lewis & Crowford engines punched them into their maximum speed of 2.3 Mach. The range closed rapidly, very rapidly, and at 186 kilometers - roughly 100 nautical miles - the flight released four Star Thrashers apiece, for a total of sixteen missiles.

Immediately breaking away towards friendly skies, the pilots retained the altitude advantage they'd climbed to at supercruise and gently reduced their throttles to 1.8 Mach until they were three hundred kilometers from the Kharanji's subsonic formation, roughly at the eight o'clock. As they weren't matching velocities in order to retain the energy advantage, the Tornado pilots kept to a tight oval pattern, climbing to their service ceiling and then descending back down to the altitude they'd launched on the AWACS from. This allowed them to maintain position on the subsonic formation while remaining over 1 Mach.

The AIM-359A missiles, at forty kilometers from target, activated their own AESA systems. This relieved the burden placed upon the processing power of the AWACS guiding this strike, and allowed that radar to shut off. From there, the Star Thrashers would track in on the six AWACS using either home-on-jam capability or their active sensors until the completion of the engagement. The redundant IIR/UV sensor would help ensure this. The rate of closure was incredible, providing the Kharanji with little time to evade and helping reduce the time that the AWACS' radar was active, guiding the missiles via datalink. Launched at 2.3 Mach, they would accelerate to 4.5 Mach by the time they killed their targets. Their theoretical top speed, taking into account missile kinematics, was 6.8 Mach. The Kharanji fliers were saved from having to dodge that sort of projectile by virtue of how close they were to the launch point.