NationStates Jolt Archive

Canaan, South Zabiland

The small province-turned-republic of South Zabiland had not been without controversy since it declared itself separate from the rest of the troubled, Marxist Zabiland when great deposits of oil were discovered there five years prior and the potential influx of capital prompted the more power-inclined to found their own nation to trade on the international market. With support coming from the bordering Zhardesia (and clandestine support from Aequatio), the South Zabilandis fought for their independence and won after the Marxist force ceded and allowed for the succession of the province.

The ceasefire, however, would not last as the Marxists and their self-proclaimed President Robert Mutapa had used the past five years to prepare his strategy for retaking the oil-rich republic and overtaking the foreign-supported Zhardesia and preventing them from intervening when time came to liberate the separate province from the evils of its capitalist greed. Brigadier George Swanaa, leader of the Zabi People's Volunteer Force (ZPVF), was the first step in Mutapa's strategy as the group of lightly armed "volunteers" moved across the border and towards their targets around the capital city of Canaan as in the hours of the business day's start, the ZPVF struck as men armed with a wide variety of weapons attacked the central police station and primary reservist barracks while taking hostages at a number of points around the city, such as elementary schools and shopping malls. Within hours the nation of South Zabiland had been rendered almost impotent by the few thousand of the ZPVF fighters, a desperate call went out to the Zhardesian government in Richmond.

President Jeffery Walker of Zhardesia was sitting in a meeting with his interior minister when the call came from the Security Forces Headquarters informing him of the situation just north of the border. Deciding that things would be best handled by the professionals, his reply was curt to the SFHQ:

"Do all that is necessary to bring peace,

Godspeed,

J.W."

The generals and staff officers at the SFHQ knew the best course of action, a number of strikes made against the Marxist strongpoints around the city, including taking the government house to free the South Zabiland president and his family who had been taken hostage. However, the Zhardesian Security Forces lacked the necessary assets to move enough forces into place and called upon the Aequatian Republic, with who they shared a proud history, to aid them in liberating the troubled nation. 41 Marine Commando, an Aequatian battalion-sized element located aboard their assault ships and originally planning a week of liberty ashore in Zhardesia, replied without hesitation agreed to help and prepared themselves aboard their ships to make an assault against the targets in Canaan while the Zhardesians themselves signaled their intentions to take out those outside of the city, including a coup de main assault against the South Zabiland Regional Airport.

Marine Tom Harrisson with 41 Commando's Bravo Company stood in the hanger deck of the Adams class amphibious assault ship as he and the rest of the company "bombed up" and prepared their personal kit. Dressed in the Woodland Pattern Marine Combat Uniform (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/Camouflage/WD-MCU.png) which also covered their M5 Lightweight Individual Combat Helmets and Cuirass Body Armour Vests, most of them armed with the G109A2 rifle chambered for the new 7.94mm round stuffed the twenty round magazines into the ammunition pouches of the M1988 Pattern Webbing Kit while others equipped themselves with their own ammunition, including linked belts of 7.94mm ammunition for the MG260E2 general purpose machine guns. The deployment patrol bring close to Karain, most of the Marine Commandoes had chosen to leave behind their hot weather, Mark IA sage green suede boots for the older Mark III jungle combat boots of high-strength, OD103 canvas and rubber soles because of their practical nature over comfort.

Once they were ready, the large aircraft elevators lifted the commandoes to the flight deck and they boarded the waiting UH-96G Bagheera assault helicopters as they were escorted towards the shore by AH-196A Nike light attack helicopters.

Smith Army Airbase, Zhardesia

Timed to coincide with the Aequatian Marine landings, the 1st Battalion of the Zhardesian Parachute Regiment rigged themselves for an airborne assault against the fortified South Zabiland Regional Airport to make way for the rest of the regiment's battalions in their planned coup de main. Second Lieutenant Terry Fraser, one of the rifle platoon commanders, watched as his company prepared their own equipment for the operation, standing next to Platoon Sergeant Arthur Fielding as he addressed the other NCOs of his platoon, "We're dropping straight in to pave the way for number two and three battalions to airland, we clear out the buildings, hold the perimeter and make sure they don't have any triple-eh watching the landing strip.

We're dropping just two hundred metres South of the runway and will be tasked with taking the hangers and fuel depot, I want one and three sections to move on these tanks," He said pointing to a diagram on the chalkboard behind him, "Number two section will act as reserve with the weapons section to provide security for the advance, then we wait for the rest of the company to catch up."

Armed with the Aequatian G125 bullpup rifle and its variants among the platoon, including a pair of MG148A1 GPMGs in the weapons section, the paratroopers made their way to the waiting C-197A Courier twin-engine transports for their quick hop North behind the strike package of F-124A Bullwhip fighters and A-128A Peregrine light bombers to soften the target before the assault.

H-Hour - Primary Reservist Barracks, Canaan, South Zabiland

The Commandoes aboard the utility helicopters watched as they passed the Nike gunships as they halted and started firing their 30mm cannons and 85mm guided rockets into the ZPVF positions as the UH-96G aircraft halted and the marines kicked out the massive drop lines as the naval infantry fast-roped down to the paved streets and atop the roofs of surrounding buildings as the Marxist fighters returned fire inbetween the barrage from the gunships above. Harrisson's boots touched down and he immediately unslung his rifle as he ran for cover on the street, as did the rest of his chalk, among the parked cars outside the Primary Reservist Barracks as he and the others opened fire with their rifles and light machine guns, peppering the gatehouse and front interior buildings with 7.94mm rounds. "Alpha section, forward! Bravo, covering fire!" Shouted the platoon's Gunnery Sergeant as a pair of MG260E2 GPMGs opened up and the eight marines dashed from their positions to the wall of the gatehouse, Harrisson primed one of his fragmentation grenades and cooked its fuse for two seconds before tossing it inside. The screams following the detonation of the small bomb invited the marines in as a lance corporal kicked the door open and Harrisson led them inside with his G109A2 at his shoulder, placing a quick two rounds into the chest of a fighter aiming his handgun at the doorway.

"Clear!" Shouted the lance corporal, "Bravo, go!" He said as the other eight marines dashed up to the opposite side of the gate and placed a charge of high explosives against the lock and detonated it, opening the chain fence and allowing the chalk entrance while the rest of the platoon arrived on the scene after securing the periemter. Their boots hammering against the pavement, the marine commandoes rushed to one of the barracks housing buildings.

"Do it!" Ordered the gunnery sergeant as one of the marines placed a small breaching charge hanging on the door's handle, the explosion shocked the fighters inside as a concussion grenade followed a half-second later, blinding and deafening those inside as the marines cut down everyone with small arms fire. Once the first few buildings had been cleared, the rest of the volunteer force at the base had decided that a losing fight would be futile and opted to surrender, lest they all perish, and exited their positions with arms raised. The entire assault had lasted just under twenty six minutes between the landing to the first surrender and the marines celebrated as the prisoners' weapons were piled on the ground and the prisoners themselves secured and placed at one of the base's helicopter landing pads awaiting a flight out to the waiting ships offshore for time in the brig and proper processing.

After the scene had been calculated, the twenty six minute battle would cost the marines five dead and six wounded against the Volunteers Force's fifteen dead and fifty captured, another three hundred and fifty would be captured throughout the rest of the afternoon and into the evening as the interior of the city was brought to peace.

H-Hour plus 1 - South Zabiland Regional Airport, outside Canaan

The Marxists holding the airport had proven to be a more vicious enemy for the paratroopers than those who fought the Marines inside the city, and the battle for the airport stretched on for more than an hour until the garrison commander finally chose to surrender. the first wave of parachute infantry came under fire just as they landed and were it not for the orbiting AC-199A gunships and their 120mm automatic mortars and 30mm cannons, the lightly-armed battalion would have been overrun before the rest of the regiment arrived.

Despite the setbacks, Lieutenant Fraser rallied his soldiers back into the fight as green tracers burned past them on the tarmac as they dashed across to take up a fighting position and return the barrage in-kind. As soon as the platoon had assembled itself, the Marxists brought down light mortar fire and Fraser called to shift his position, although the two lead sections had already moved on towards their respective targets, leaving his headquarters and two reserve sections in the open as they dashed for whatever cover they could find. The bitter firefights raged on as the paratroopers swept buildings for the enemy fighters, putting holes in walls and even destroying a fuel pumping station from a stray LAW rocket as they finally cleared out the last of the Marxists.

The toll would be heavier for the Zhardesians compared to the Marines, costing them seventeen dead and twenty three wounded, although the ZPVF would prove to suffer, losing a total of thirty two with another fifty eight captured at the end of the day.

D-Day plus 14 - Canaan harbour, South Zabiland

Marine Harrisson sat in the rear compartment of a Marine M138 2.5-ton truck as it sat in the motor pool of the former Primary Reservist Barracks, which had now become the inland operations base for 41 Commando. The marines had been running patrols in the streets as the local authorities recovered from the attempted revolt caused by the "Volunteer Force" two weeks prior. In that time, the prisoners had also been processed and were being held in prisons within South Zabiland after interrogations with local Aequatian Republic Intelligence Agency operatives had revealed that the force was not a volunteer force as such, as many of the members had been forcibly press-ganged into service and pushed across the border from their own villages. They had also been told that they would be greeted as liberators, quite a shock to the fighters when the Aequatians and Zhardesians arrived to rectify the situation, however, with knowledge of this, the President's Office and the Department of Defence immediately pushed CENTCOM to prepare for an immediate contingency for operations in the theatre.

The first Aequatians to arrive in-country would be elements of Romeo Troop of the Strategic Assistance Service Regiment to investigate the number of support camps located on the border between South Zabiland and Zabiland proper. Captain Karl Hoch stepped out the side door of a C-201A Skyfreighter strategic airlifter on the tarmac of the South Zabiland Regional Airport and was greeted by the chief operative for ARIA in the theatre, "Let me guess, a Smith?" The officer asked the well-suited agent, Hoch himself wearing just the utility uniform in the Woodland Digital Army Pattern (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/Camouflage/WD-DARPAT.png) and carried the rest of his equipment in a plain OG107 duffel bag while his G122 carbine over his back against his rucksack.

"James Stevenson, actually," Replied the operative, "I'll be briefing you on your coming operations," He said as he led the team to the operations building, which was in reality the airport's former cafeteria. "Intel gathered from the prisoners gives us the impression that there are a number of camps sitting in the border zone and we need them located to stop these raids by the Zabi Border Terrorists, since we're still getting reports from remote villages being attacked."

"What do you expect us to do out there?" Asked Sergeant-Major Emery Russell, "Strictly recce or will there be any direct action?"

"Teams from the rest of the troop will be finding these camps and monitoring them until we deem it necessary to eliminate them," The agent said dryly, "Until you get the order, you watch those camps and count the traffic coming in and out. I would suggest getting ready, you'll be deploying in a few hours."

The six operational teams of R Troop prepared their equipment inside one of the empty hangers as Marine UH-96G helicopters, borrowed from 41 Commando, waited outside with their crews. Captain Hoch's team consisted of himself, Sergeant-Major Russell and another trooper newly-arrived from A Troop, Sergeant First Class William Lyles. All of them wore the same lightweight fabric tropical utilities in the digital pattern along with the Second Chance protective vests underneath the uniform blouse, which would protect against most small arms fire. They were each in possession of the issue bush hat, although the sergeant-major would modify his by cutting off the brim on the sides and back, turning it into a field-expedient patrol cap. Both Hoch and Russell were armed with the G122 carbine, fitted with the usual suppressor and M750 "Cardinal" 4.0x red dot weapon sight while Lyles was given a suppressed SSG138 sniper's rifle. Along with the rest of their "high-speed" equipment, they carried in their rucksacks a total weight ranging up to 45 kilograms.

Hoch's team's mission would take them out into the border zone, within five kilometres from the Marxist state, and bring them to a trail leading in-country towards Canaan. Borrowing experience from the Jungle Operations Training Centre in the Jadans near Espandor back home on Aequatius Secundus, the team would come across evidence that would end up pushing the conflict beyond what anyone would anticipate, "Sergeant-Major, Captain Hoch, you may want to see this..." Said Lyles as he handed the binoculars off to the heavily camouflaged SASR troopers.

"Jesus H. Christ," Hoch said as his gaze fell upon the still-burning village and a black pile of what could only be corpses of the former population, "Let's see what we can find," He said as he handed the binoculars to Russell and started off towards the settlement. Garbed in scrim and hessian netting, the reconnaissance soldiers came into the village and examined the remains, finding a collection of smashed bottles marked with the label "Holy Water" and smoldering ashes with the littered remains of leather covers with an emblazoned gold lettering of "Holy Bible" on their front.

"A mission," Said Russell, "This was a mission, Doomanis no doubt in this day and age."

"Do we report this, sir?" Asked Lyles as he kicked his boot through a pile of ashes before moving on towards the dead.

"Satellite positioning says we're still in friendly country, Captain," Interrupted Russell as he joined the sergeant at the pile.

"Sergeant-Major," Said Hoch as he shrugged his shoulder into his weapon's sling, "Make the call."

The story was released around the world as the numbers were released by the Aequatian government, seventy eight villagers and a dozen missionaries of the Doomani Catholic faith massacred, personal identification discovered at the site would prove them as citizens of Doomingsland.

D-Day +17, South Zabiland Regional Airport

The vast majority of the world's population was by now aware that where ever Doomani soldiers went, indescriminate carnage on unimaginable levels generally followed. The men that stomped down the loading ramp of the transport aircraft certainly looked to be capable of indescriminate carnage on unimaginable levels- COHORS SPECIALIS XVII was a veteran EQV unit, a batallion-sized special operations formation. They'd seen action in Kahanistan and more recently in Azaha, and the individuals in question certainly looked the part.

They were utterly uniform: jungle pattern digital BDUs neatly pressed (or at least as neatly pressed as one could press them when wearing armor) with the sleaves crisply rolled, flak jackets neatly fastened over their chests (although the MOLLE strips were bare- for now), rucksacks slung over their shoulders along with their helmets, and their service weapons hanging off their chests from bungee slings. Naturally, they had loaded magazines. One did not always know what one would find when stepping off a plane in a strange country, after all. All were relatively dark skinned (certainly a great deal lighter than the locals yet certainly darker than their Aequatian hosts), the Doomani being a desert-dwelling people, and their black hair was neatly trimmed in the high-and-tight style. All of the men bore their fair share of ugly scars on their exposed flesh.

Further down the airstrip, heavy ACI.39 Bellicus assault transport helos were being unloaded from their ferry transports in a viciously swift and effecient manner, their ground crews already making necessary preparations to get them armed and airborne at a moment's notice. XVII Cohort had a whole squadron of the massive gunships attached, and they would certainly come in handy in jungle deployments.

Within thirty seconds of the ramp of the first transport opening, the entire cohort- 800 men -had formed up on the tarmac in eight neat blocks. The Doomani, being the way they were, couldn't bear to forget their precious battle standards, and so eight centuria standards rose over the heads of the men along with the cohort standards. The commander of the unit, fifty-two year old Tribunus Prior Marcus Fenix, the equivelent of a full-bird colonel in other services, stood out in front of the unit, setting his own rucksack down as he inspected his men.

His hair, jet black in his youth, was now a solid grey, and trimmed low to his scalp. He had a particularly nasty scar running from his lower lip to the bottom of his chin, and, if one were to look, a much larger scar along the back of his skull where a steer plate had been inserted after a Questarian grenade had gone off a little too close for comfort. His broad facial features and Roman nose were typical of the Doomani, as was his apparent lack of a neck and broad shoulders.

His facial expression was one of utter seriousness, though hardly malevolent. He scanned up and down his formations approvingly before heading back to the head of the cohort and facing his men. He knew every one of these Legionaries by name; hell, he knew most of their family members by name. XVII Cohort was a fairly tight-knit bunch. They were all seasoned special operators, and very eager to do a bit more killing in this particular cesspool. After all, sacred Christian Doomani blood had been spilt by the infidel; Caesar had directed that the retribution on those who had perpetrated those crimes be as agonizing and brutal as physically possible, and the EQV troopers were pleased to obey those orders.

"Alright, everyone grab their shit. We're in those barracks over there," he growled in his usual gruff, crude tone, waving towards a compound of obviously temporary sheet steel structures that had been constructed by Aequatian combat engineers the previous day when confirmation that the Doomani were coming was finally handed down. "Dismissed."

After recieving a crisp, uniform salute from the whole of the formation and returning it, he turned from the formation, his right hand man, Optio Tiberius Castor, walking alongside him. He needed to meet with his Aequatian counterpart in order to get a better picture of what was going on.

D-Day plus 17 - South Zabiland Regional Airport, outside Canaan

Lieutenant Fraser watched as the Doomani landed on the tarmac, 1ZPR having been chosen for garrison duty at the airport, and he watched as they worked to unload their equipment and helicopters. The paratroopers had little to do, having dug in and perfected their entrenched positions around the tarmac and in the surrounding hills, and were interested in seeing what kind of force the Imperium brought to the fight. Rumours of the ZPVF having all been scattered through the wilderness and talk of Aequatian commandoes running about the jungles, the Zhardesians were afforded something of a relaxed attitude, at least those of 1ZPR, and they walked about wearing their maroon berets and their Aequatian-designed "Cuirass" body armour vests over just undershirts or bare chests. The lieutenant listened as one of the machine gun nests pointed at the beastly-looking helicopters being drawn out from the landed transports, "My god, look at that monster, imagine if we could have had those to help us out fighting those rebels from across in Zanwesia last year," Said one of the riflemen.

"The raids would have stopped within weeks," Said another, a corporal, "I wouldn't have had to sit in that green shithole for eight months."

Fraser sat back against one of the sandbag bunkers, equipped with a GMG-40D automatic grenade launcher on a tripod, and set his M5C helmet down as he continued to watch the Dommani in their grand landing ceremony. He could not help but smirk at the sight of the standard bearers as he lit a cigarette and exhaled his first drag.

Both Fenix and Castor would be greeted by one of the 99th Special Operations Support Command (Airborne) officers working on the tarmac, an Air Force captain with an orange armband marked with the initials M.C. in bold black lettering, indicating him as part of the Movement Control team for logistics, "Greetings, gentlemen," He said, forgoing any formal salute as per the usual OPSEC field procedures, "Major-General Alexander has been waiting for you at his jay-oh-see," He explained, referring to the Joint Operations Centre stationed at the airport, which had now completely been commandeered by the now Tri-National Joint Force, with civilian flights being rerouted to Pottersville Airbase across the border in Zhardesia, which was also the central hub for humanitarian aid that was flowing in to help those hurt most in the recent crisis.

One of the 99th SOSC's M1295 Stallion light 4x4 vehicles were brought out for the two Doomani officers as they were brought to the building now being used to coordinate all of the operations ashore, Major-General Dustin "Dusty" Alexander, former commanding officer of 14th Special Forces Group (Airborne), was pulled from his normal billet in order to take command of the units deployed to South Zabiland. He was speaking with someone over the communications table when one of the MP Sergeants arrived leading Fenix and his adjutant inside the headquarters as he finished speaking, "Major-General, sir, Praefectus Prior Marcus Fenix and Optio Tiberius Castor to see you," He said before saluting.

The general returned the salute, "Thank you," He said turning to the Doomani as the sergeant exited, "Nice to have you men aboard, I must say it is an odd venture to be working alongside the Imperium, given our antagonistic history. I'd be interested in seeing the mandate you've been given for your mission here in South Zabiland."

D-Day plus 17 - Border Zone, South Zabiland/People's Republic of Zabiland

Sergeant Lyles lay prone against the underbrush as his SSG138 rested on its bipod, his eye watched though its telescope movement down below in one of the training camps for the Zabi People's Volunteer Force as his pencil marked against his notepad as he tallied the number of young men being unloaded from a small transport truck. He had been tasked with overwatch from their observation post while the Captain and Russell moved closer and examined the defences of the camp, should they need to infiltrate and obtain any documents before the order was handed down from JOC to withdraw.

Hoch crawled slowly, his multitool set within his palm should it be necessary, as he approached the outer perimeter of the camp, his camouflage work resembling that of the local foliage, he would be unnoticeable from one of the guard towers six metres in the air and unremarkable should one of the sentries walk past the special forces officer. On the opposite side of the camp, Sergeant-Major Russell had spent a better part of the day moving completely around to examine the trail used to bring in personnel and supplies from the Marxist state, noting the width of the trails and the trucks and numbers used, so that the Air Force could better track from the air later on, as he himself started to examine the defences used in the same manner as the captain. The barbed wire was marked by the use of ration tins for a primitive alarm if disturbed, along with a few hand grenades used as traps and 37mm flare launchers, the wire itself would be easy to circumvent if needed. Having seen what he needed to investigate, Hoch returned to the OP overlooking the camp and waited for Russell's return as he greeted Lyles with a call of the Azure Swallow, a local bird as the sergeant replied the challenge with the call of a Red River Martin as he took his hand off the suppressed MP139 submachine gun and let the officer take up his position as Lyles sat back and stretched, having been lying for a number of hours without the slightest movement, despite being a good four hundred metres from the camp's perimeter.

The sergeant-major would return later that night, giving his own notes to the captain as he called in to the waiting R Troop headquarters with their brief situation report, "Good work, Romeo Tango-two, we'll expect your call at oh-eight fifteen tomorrow... watch out for those bed bugs, over."

"Will do, Romeo Six, Tango-two, out," Replied Hoch as he switched off the PRC-577 set and covered it back up with the camouflaged M1967 OG107 canvas carrier and turned to Lyles, "I'll keep on these ELINT measurements and monitor the are-eff levels, you watch that camp until oh-four hundred, at which time the sergeant-major will take over for you and I'll go down for my four hours, clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Replied the sergeant as he looked through the telescope's green hue as he watched through the combined light amplification/infrared filter.

"Good boy," The captain whispered as he smiled, his eyes returning on the monitor as he kept his ears open to the jungle around them.