NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC:
mokastana, there now it will be easier to find in the search

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=568429

IC:

The trucks rolled on wards in the backwoods of the Mokan Jungle, the open beds were filled with farmers, boys, old men and men with scores to settle.
The rain had started a while ago, with barely enough blankets to protect the munitions they sat on the cold water quickly made the dark night even worse as the mud splashed up. Thomas Machine guns, M-16s and even a few AK-47s rolled around on the bed of the truck only to be picked up by the few who knew how to use them, clutching them tightly to their chest, as if it was a long lost best friend, or perhaps their only hope in life.

Amongst this group of revolutionaries was a man called Corporal Brian Consuelo, his job was to take this fresh blood from out of the country to the local Mokostan People's Army camp. These men looked like they meant well, but seeing as they weren't making money from this mess, and the other bastards would quickly toss money their way to get info and allies, meant that they may become liabilities in the future. Corporal Brian was talking loudly with his men in deep Spanish until one quietly asked in English who the Villa Brothers were. This time, switching to English to let the foreigners understand, Brian spoke up:


“Ahh yes the Villa Brothers, God’s wraith they call ‘em. These two boys have caused more havoc for Xavier then he could of ever imagined, and damn if he don’t deserve it. You see, ole man Villa, he helped fund the MPA, and hell his revolutionary zest cause many problems for the old Dictator. So he ordered Xavier to get to the Villa farm and burn it to the ground, not even steal the food or supplies, which were rare even before the war broke out. Luckily his boys were away for the week with their mothers, trading cattle or something, but Xavier showed up one day, ordered all the farm hands shot, and then have ole man Villa tied to a tree and burned at the stake. Suppos’ it was to show people not to support us rebels, but turns out the Villa boys took this as war, and hell if they haven’t done their best to fight back. Miguel raised two great shots, Nicolas is one of the best shots in the MPA, and rumor has it he takes pops shots at enemy officers for fun, that’s what they get for saluting ‘em. Hell I once insulted my commander by saluting him on patrol, damn if he didn’t make me pay for it….Yep, best damn 19 year old shot we got. Charles on the other hand, now he is a character, also goes around popping shots at officers, barely 17 but damn good sapper. I swear you can know when the Villa’s stuck cuz the tanks tracks will be blown and any bastards coming out wont of made if off the tank. Xavier’s got quite a contract out on those two boys, but no one is giving them up, and if they do, the entire MPA will hunt them down, Guevara’s orders. "

"Viva Guevera!" A soldier shouted into the night.

The rocking of the truck awoke Osteian, Jason Hartt. He slowly opened his eyes to realize it was not a dream, he had really accepted this mission and it was pouring like hell in the thick jungle, the truck hit a pot hole on the muddy road jerking everyone in the vehicle, men cussed then went back to their conversations.

Jason was dry under his rain fatigues which only consisted of a water proof hooded poncho. Resting on his lap, out of the rain was his AR-15 Assault rifle. Sitting across from him was Chris Bastone, he was special forces Captian when still in the Osteian armed forces. Jason had never served with him before but met guys who had, senior officers in his divisions HQ, this was a real privilage. Only the best were given this oppertunity, Jason was confident but did not want to fuck this up making himself look bad to Bastone or his superiors.

Bastone sat still in the truck looking blanky off in space, he blinked his eyes then looked over at Jason, "Have a good sleep Lt. Hartt? bumpy ride this is!", Jason pushed his hood back on his head making his face visible, "Yes sir! right on the money sir!", Bastone grinned , "None of that sir shit out here Lt., call me 'Bat', you understand me Jason?", Hart nodded in agreement.

Men were speaking in Spanish then translated into english,

“Ahh yes the Villa Brothers, God’s wraith they call ‘em. These two boys have caused more havoc for Xavier then he could of ever imagined, and damn if he don’t deserve it. You see, ole man Villa, he helped fund the MPA, and hell his revolutionary zest cause many problems for the old Dictator. So he ordered Xavier to get to the Villa farm and burn it to the ground, not even steal the food or supplies, which were rare even before the war broke out. Luckily his boys were away for the week with their mothers, trading cattle or something, but Xavier showed up one day, ordered all the farm hands shot, and then have ole man Villa tied to a tree and burned at the stake. Suppos’ it was to show people not to support us rebels, but turns out the Villa boys took this as war, and hell if they haven’t done their best to fight back. Miguel raised two great shots, Nicolas is one of the best shots in the MPA, and rumor has it he takes pops shots at enemy officers for fun, that’s what they get for saluting ‘em. Hell I once insulted my commander by saluting him on patrol, damn if he didn’t make me pay for it….Yep, best damn 19 year old shot we got. Charles on the other hand, now he is a character, also goes around popping shots at officers, barely 17 but damn good sapper. I swear you can know when the Villa’s stuck cuz the tanks tracks will be blown and any bastards coming out wont of made if off the tank. Xavier’s got quite a contract out on those two boys, but no one is giving them up, and if they do, the entire MPA will hunt them down, Guevara’s orders. "

The two Osteians listened without comment, Bastone braced his back against the side of the truck and shut his eyes clutching an AK-47 with both hands.

The rain splashing against his face awoke him from his sleep. For a couple of seconds, he had no idea of where he was, but then a painful bump from the truck reminded him. He and his comrades from the Red Spear was in Mokostan, ready to defend poor factory workers and farmers of the country against their fascist oppressors.
At least that was what Günther had said. It had seemed so simple then, when they sat around the table in their 'headquarters' in Günther's apartment, bragging about how they would liberate Mokostan single-handed and start the global revolution. But now, he wasn't so sure.

Looking around the truck, he saw mostly desperate men, more interested in defending their homes and families from plunderers than discussing how to bring down the international bourgeoisie. No true revolutionaries, just dirty farmers. Everything was dirty in this country. At home, most people usually showered at least once a day, but here the locals only seemed to bath if they fell into a river. They probably had fleas too. He shivered at the thought, imaging the small insects crawling on his body. He nearly began to sob as the homesickness came over him, and tears filled his eyes. He wiped them away with his hand. If the others saw him cry, they would taunt him for months.

From his place a few meters away in the truck, Andreas Jalowitz saw the young soldier try to conceal his tears. The boy was only sixteen, he remembered. Far too young to be a soldier, like most of the Red Spear. Had he been allowed to decide, they would only have taken the experienced soldiers, like himself or Fraüler. What use would these young, inexperienced boys be in the jungle? Half of them didn't even know which part of the rifle they should point in the direction of the enemy. But Günther didn't allow any criticism of his decisions.

With a sigh he grabbed his AK-47 and went over to the soldier. What was his name again? Gustav Schwartz? The boy was clutching a M60 machine gun to his chest. Jalowitz doubted that he could use it.
"How are you feeling?", he asked kindly, sitting down beside the boy. Gustav Schwartz looked away, but Jolowitz could see that his face was covered with tears.
"Homesick", the boy confessed after a couple of seconds. "It a lot different than I expected."
Jalowitz smiled, remembering the first time he had been involved in a real campaign. He had been scared too, but at least he had had formal training.
"It always is. It will be hard in the beginning, but then you will get used to it. And when it's over, you will be proud that you were there. When I was your age, twenty years ago, I participated in the campaigns against the monarchists, before we became a republic. Believe me, I was scared shitless. I tried to hide under a tank when the artillery started to fire. The sergeant had to drag me out so they could start it. But I survived, and I learned from my mistakes. Don't you worry. Stick with me, and I'll help you survive this war. When we arrive, I will teach you how to use that machine gun.
"Thank you, sir", the boy said, wiping the tears from his face. Jalowitz smiled faintly.
"Don't call me 'sir'. We are revolutionary comrades, remember? Everyone is equal. My name is Andreas. Be quiet now, it seems that the corporal wants to say something."
He listened to Consuelo's speech, translating for his younger comrade. Those Villa brothers seemed like two impressive fellows, but it was always hard to distinguish between truth and myth. Still, he would be looking forward to meeting them.

OOC: if you haven't posted yet just pretend you have been on board the whole time.

IC:

The trucks continued on until they came upon a destroyed bridge with a small circle in front of it where vehicles has appeared to need to turn around. The bridge had once been an engineering marvel, steel and concrete combined to cross a rather deep valley formed by a small river from the mountains, barely a few hundred feet across, yet nearly half a mile deep. The bridge had been blown by Hordes' men while they were on the retreat, since it was one of the choke points that was required to get Xavier's tanks farther north. A year ago this area would be alive with warfare and destruction over this bridge, but today it was nothing more then a gorge in the earth that no one cared for, perfect for a training camp.

The truck drivers hoped out and began banging on the sides while a few men armed with an assortment of weapons came out of the jungle towards the trucks. After a short conversation between a driver and one of these men the armed soldiers opened the beds of the trucks and began helping people down. While ordering some to help unload the supplies.

The foreigners were noted and Corporal Consuelo moved to the back of the truck to talk to a soldier. After a few words he turned back to the truck:

"Follow me amigos, you get to meet Senor Zapata."

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12 hours ago....

"Steady, steady..."

In the cross hairs of the older WW2 scope was two men, one already identified as a Sargent, this man was pissing on a tree and chatting over his shoulder, towards the sniper. The other man was a mere private, smoking while leaning on the hood of the armored car. Inside that car was the target, what attracted an officer out here was beyond Nicolas' knowledge. Perhaps a camp had been set up out here they missed. If so they needed him alive, hopefully Charlie didn't aim to kill.

The Mosin-Nagant was still in his hands as he took aim towards the Sargent, aiming for the chest. Squeezing the trigger slowly the gun fired, letting out a loud boom resulting in the poor soldiers heart to explode out of his chest into a billion pieces. The private heard the blast and dove to the ground covering his head and leaving his weapon on the hood of the car, apparently he didn't care for his officer as much as he did his life. Another blast, much louder and deafening went off, nearly dislodging the hood of the armor car but ensuring that it was going no where. That was Charles, using a PTRS-41, nothing like a 14mm round to stop a car.

That meant that Nicolas had to get the prisoner...

The locked doors were blown off by another shot by Charles, resulting in a mad Officer spraying AK fire all over the jungle. Nicolas ducked for a second, the stood up, aimed and took out the officers leg as he tried to run away. Falling on his back the Officer screamed into the night in pain. Nicolas looked again and saw that his gun was about 6 feet from the bleeding man....damn it, got to burn close another wounded.

After a few minutes of work both the Private and Officer, were in custody. The private was the effective crutch for his officer as they began the 5 mile hike back to the base through the jungle.

"Looks like rain is coming, we better hurry."

"yeah, I hear the outsiders are coming in today."

Jason and Chris disembarked from the truck, grabbed their ruck sacks hoisting the thick straps over their shoulders, "Jason gimmie a hand here, lets help these guys off load equipment", said Chris hanging his AK around his neck. Jason slung his AR-15 over his left arm then received a wooden box with a red cross on it, then someone behind him spoke up in English...

"Follow me amigos, you get to meet Senor Zapata."

Jason looked at Chris who set down a box of explosives, "Right on", replied Chris moving towards the man, Jason was close behind.

Choi got out the truck and grabbed the kit bag his superiors had supplied him with. AK-47, 2 charges of C4...everything the basic guerrilla soldier needed. Most the others were westerners, it seemed. Great.

"Follow me, amigos, you get to meet senor Zapata."

A high ranking PAM soldier. Must be. Zapata must be some general. Briefing hadn't exactly made everything clear. "So, what's the plan?"

Andrej Karlyle Litvenko looked over at the figure of the unageable eastern looking numberwho had just asked where they were off, the number looked strong and fit but was he a soldier, Andrej was not yet convinced. An intelect and a soldier was Andrej and even now he was reveling in the ironies of the very weapons he was holding, the rebels who had built or bought, those who had sold it to "civilised governments", those ministers who for profit had then ofset it to perhaps less "civilised" ones and then through either corruption or murder or ill consequence had reached the men he was with now and ultimately his own hands. Though only 25, Andrej was a seasoned soldier, not a mercinary or revolutionary, simply one of those intellects who alligned himself to a sense of lawful evil, a love for war, for fighting and for moderation. He checked his rifle for the umpteenth time making sur eit would not clog or hit backto hard, he remember hes first time poor preperation had nearly got him killed, he saw that niave' inability in some of the younger "soldiers" many of these grammer school revolutionaries would no doubt he thiought probably end up on the wrong side of an enemy soldiers knife after panicing with there powerfull weapons and missing any target completely. Still he thought time to see or go to or fight zapata he knew the word a place but that meant noting just as his own name could be the name of any revolutionary group in any other state in the world. This Mokostan place was really a shit hole, not wuiet as bad as the dirt hut he'd grown up in but perty darn shite as his father would have said. He glanced at the watch and with one last look at the young man with his kit bag, he slung the Ak across his shoulderand starting following the line of troops, but to what, Training, meeting, baptism of fire, death? No matte rwhat it would be fun........

OOC: can you please fill out and sign up on the OCC thread

Jason and Chris moved with the others through the jungle following the MPA soldiers to meet this Senior Zapata, one of the rebel leaders they would be taking orders from. The sounds of the jungle were eerie, hoots and howls off in the distance that echoed. The bugs, snakes and spiders were everywhere, mosquitos harrassed the forginers but the Mokans didn't seem effected by their bite. Thunder shook the surroundings, "More god damn rain, i can feel it...no wonder everything is so fuckin' green..it never stops raining..", Chris shook his head and chuckled.

Bastone seemed to be calm and alert, Jason was nerves, every crack he was ready for a fight, he scanned the trees side to side...

One of the westerners seemed unbelievably tense. Every crack of a stick, every scared bird, and he'd flick his gun around and look for the non existent enemy. He wouldn't last long in guerrilla warfare. Choi stopped a moment to assemble his AK, as a fully assembled one is hard to fit in a haversack. The westerner was making him nervous. He wish he'd stop and so goddamn tense.

The walk to the camp wasn't a long one, the path had been formed by many others walking it previously, though the jungle was still think enough that if you didn't know where you were going you might miss it. The soldiers hacked away at vines and limbs with machetes just to make the path a little more obvious for the new recruits. Only a few minutes into the jungle they came upon a clearing, filled with tents and busted vehicles. by the looks of it previously a tank unit made up of Shermans had tried to blitz for the the bridge and been blown to hell. In many cases the tanks had been converted into small bunkers and barracks, even one had a side blown open with a tent attached to it. In the background men were running about, doing exercises and some were standing guard around make shift tents, possibly signaling there was something valuable in them.

Corporal Consuelo lead them to a larger hut without any guards and ushered the outsiders in. On the inside of this tent was tables, chairs, communication equipment, maps and boxes of everything from medical supplies to mortar rounds.

"Jefe, the outsiders are here."

A shorter man, but somehow taller then the rest in the tent, turned around. His large mustache and slicked back hair gave him a somehow charismatic look compared to the rest of the troops here. He was wearing jungle fatigues with combat boots. All of it looked second hand,even the Bandoleer around his chest looked used, like this wasn't the first time it saw combat. A single revolver stood on his hip, unbuckled and ready to be drawn.

"Bien, keep an eye on them. " then turning to the men who just arrived he switched to English.

"Greetings, I am Generalisso Zapata, pleasure to meet you all. It is nice to have fellow revolutionaries outside our borders coming to assist us in our cause. Now can I kindly ask Consuelo to lead all non-leader units outside, the tent is not meant for this many people. He will take them to an area we have made for you to stay for the night. It isn't exactly modern living, but it is something to sleep under and keep warm with."

The mean would be lead to a small camp set up on the edge of the training grounds, two large halls were set up, both made out of the various materials tied up to trees and tanks.

"Now to business Gentlemen, I hate to say it but there is no where around here where you can lay your head down and expect to be safe for the night. Not even in the cities anymore, and this camp is long overdue for a change in location, it is only a matter of time before Xavier's men stumble upon it. I wish we had better ways to support you but we barley got the rations and bullets to feed and supply our own troops, it seems like every time a village is bombed our numbers swell, but for every village lost is that much less food to feed our people with. So we steal what we can. This is where I need you. A city to the north of here, Santa Clara, is currently being fought over by Xavier and Hordes, the two local military commanders fighting for the country. There are stockpiles for both sides. We need you to capture these and bring them to a safe location to be determined. I would send my own but to be honest, the fighting up there is so bad I am not sure even my best trained soldiers have a chance. I need some men with real military experience, like yourselves. I will send some of my best scouts to go with you, and you can expect to find other MPA cells working in the area, but support will be minimal. It is about a-"

A large explosion rocked the tent, a whistle of incoming round prelude a second one farther away. The lights inside the tent dimmed out as the radios began playing tons of traffic.

"Jefe, incoming mortar rounds, the Xavier's forces are shelling us from three clicks out.....(continues listening to the jumbled radio chatter)...They expect Hordes to send in some Hinds.....AA guns set up north of the mortars.....Sounds like Hordes is trying to take out the man bridges before (more explosions rocked the camp)....a scout spotted us and we are an opportunity target."

Zapata grabbed an AK and told the soldiers to follow him. They ran out into the moist jungle as the rain trickled off only to hear gunfire. It was not into the camp just yet, but was getting closer. Two small fires had stared from the incoming shells, tents and men were scattered about, bleeding and burning. Screams were heard as they ran towards the chaos.

"CHINGA! Alright, if Hordes succeeds in blowing those bridges then this operation is wasted. I need you and your men accross the bridges now!"

Pointing to a young boy armed with a Mosin:

"You find the Villas and have them get to the closet bridge!"

back to the soldiers:

"Head that way, I wish I could show you better, but i trust the Villas to find you. Good luck!"

The path might have seemed easy to the Mokans, but it certainly was not for the Zaheranians. Used as they were to a cooler climate, the tropical heat soon made their shirts damp with sweat, while aggressive mosquitos and other insects did their best to make the walk to the camp a misery. The arms of the younger men soon ached as they carried their weapons through the jungle. While the walk lasted only a few minutes, it felt like an eternity for some of the younger men, especially Gustav, who was carrying the heavy M60. Jalowitz had offered to carry it for a while, but the younger man had declined, not wanting to appear weak in front the others. But he couldn't stop his sigh of relief as they reached the camp. It looked makeshift and improvised, but it was still the most welcomed sight he had seen in his life. He was feeling hungry and tired, and hoped that they would get a few hours of rest and a decent meal before they moved on.

Jalowitz, on the other hand, was a bit more worried. Neither the camp nor the soldiers he had seen so far looked especially professional. He doubted that the camp would survive for very long if Xavier or Hordes turned their attention to it. Consuelo and a few others seemed like hard men, but the rest.. He shook his head. Farmers with guns. They would probably scuttle like cattle at the first enemy charge, and then the battle would be lost.

The man waiting inside the hut looked professional enought, at least. Only Jalowitz, Günther and a few others understood what he said, but they told the others that they would get a few hours of rest. Fraüler took command of the men as they were lead to the rest area, while Jalowitz and Günther remained in the tent.

They didn't come far. The first artillery round hit the ground just three meters from them, throwing red-hot fragments and dirt over the young soldiers. As through a miracle, none was harmed, but they had no time to rejoice. Mortar rounds were raining around them, and Fraüler screamed that they should lay down. Most obeyed, but Gustav remained standing, frozen in shock, until Fraüler harshly kicked him down. When he looked up, tents were burning and wounded men were screaming for help. He saw Jalowitz and Günther run towards him, gesturing for him to follow. He got to his feet and grabbed the M60, sprinting for the jungle.

When they stopped a few minutes later, Günther quickly counted his troops. No one was missing, but a few of the men had cuts and bruises. They could hear gunfire in the distance. The war had started quickly for the Red Spear. Günther nodded, satisfied that no one was dead or seriously wounded.
"Okay, Zapata told us to move in that direction, so in that direction we move. Follow me." He set off into the jungle, followed by his soldiers.

The mortar rounds continued to shell the impromptu base as the soldiers raced out to meet the enemy. Peasants and farmers, men who lost wives, daughters, sons, farms, homes, suddenly had the chance to take something from the enemy, to strike back. Spotters and patrols had already marked the locations of the incoming army and the People's Army ran out into the jungle to meet them. Those who had fought before and understood basic warfare took the lead, taking the flanks and advancing on the enemy.

Zapata had taken command and gotten his runners sending orders out to the quick forming units. His first orders told them to find the units, and tell them where the HQ was moving, because the target of mortar fire was not safe.

"Villas you are to follow me! we need to meet the foreigners at the bridges."

The Villa brothers had just put down the weapons they took for their last job and tied the prisoner to a tree when the first mortar rounds hit. Running back to the weapons tent Nicolas had just managed to get his Mosin when a shell landed inside blowing the small armory to hell. The explosion threw both the brothers back out of the tent and on to the ground. It took Charles a second but he managed to get up dazed and see a boy about his age yell at him.

"Help me get Nic, he was a little close to that last one!"

"I'M FINE! Lets get out of here!"

The three boys raced out of the camp, only two were armed, towards the bridges. By bridges they meant ropes that crossed the gorge with wooden planks to support the weight of maybe ten men. The good ones were made of wood, in total there was were about six of them.

Nicolas pulled out his pistol and threw it to his brother and yelled to the Zaheranians:

"Follow me! It only gets worse from here!"

The jungle was think and muggy, and threw the jungle Nicolas saw a group of Xavier's men, no doubt they were trying to get across the bridge before Hordes' Hinds took them out. He stood up and took aim at one and fired. Then dove back to the ground.

The sound of gunfire was getting stronger as they got closer to the bridges. They could still hear artillery rounds falling on the camp behind them, but the sound was diminishing. But suddenly they heard a enormous explosion that made them all throw themselves to the ground, believing that a grenade had exploded nearby. But soon they realized that whatever had caused the explosion, it had not been aimed at them. Black smoke was rising from the area where they knew the camp was located.
"What the hell was that?", a soldier exclaimed, speaking for all of them.
"The armory, I suspect", Jalowitz answered calmly. "Some fascist must have got a lucky shot. Let's move people, we are sitting ducks if we stand still. Unless we want to show our death comrades our solidarity by joining them, we should secure those bridges."

Suddenly he saw movement in the jungle behind them. He swung around, his hand on the trigger of his Kalashnikov. But it was clear that the three youngsters that came into sight was from the MPA. Two of them were very much alike, probably relatives, while the third seemed a little bruised. Probably he had been to close to a falling grenade. One of the men yelled that they should follow him, and after a brief glance at Günther, Jalowitz did so. He hoped that the distance to the bridges wouldn't be to long. Some of younger men already looked like they were on the brink of collapse.

He had always had keen sight and saw the soldiers in the same moment Nicolas did. He clicked off the safety switch of his weapon and dived to the ground in the same motion. The weapon shook in his hands as he fired a short three-round burst at one of the soldiers. More IRS soldiers joined the fray, some firing their weapons as they had been told, in controlled, semiautomatic bursts, while other went rock-and-rolling, emptying their magazines in three seconds.

Nicolas watched as the foreigners drew the fire from the enemy up ahead. Obviously some of them had never been in combat, believing that wasting ammunition like that was effective for anything other then hurting the cause.

one 7.62x54 can save up to 30 7.62x39s, but the allies may not like being shot by friendlies.

Nicolas hated when logic didn't win, his small team kept moving spreading out as Nicolas and the young boy continued to take single, accurate shots at an enemy who would waste bullets hoping to snag one.

Charles was crawling through the jungle with his pistol out in front of him, his main goal was to get a bigger gun.

The group they were fighting was about 20 men spread out in the thick jungle. Slowly getting picked off by either sniper fire or the chaos of machine guns. Suddenly single pops and short bursts were heard from the right of the target group. It appeared that they were being flanked by more rebels.

Thank god for the Calvary

With that Nicolas picked up the pace of sniping and moving, trying to get closer to the allies, those who knew the MPA's combat style could always identify an ally from an enemy by the gunshots. Allies fired short, often times single round bursts, while the enemy fired chaotic burst. Comrade Guevera had taught them that fear and surprise was a guerrilla's greatest asset, and Nicolas knew how to use both.

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Opposing them was a squadron of infantry, who began to realize they were quickly becoming outnumbered and retreated back to the gorge. The jungle did its best to hide their escape, as the commander tried to radio to the mortar positions the attackers location, only to find a bullet had lodge itself inside, making it nothing more then a 15 lb paperweight.

Unfortunately this was just the scouting party. Trying to seize control of the bridges and set up a trap for the assault Hordes was going to make.
Unknown to the Guerrilla forces, Hordes was going to use this forgotten route to set up some more infantry bridges and sneak around Xavier forces and cut them off. Xavier found out about it and sent this unit to set up an ambush for them and then to take out the bridges before they knew what hit him. Stumbling on the MPA had caused some issues which allowed spotters for Hordes to find out about what was going on. Hence why the Hinds were ordered to move in and take out the bridges.

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Upon seeing the enemy flee Nicolas took a chance to get over to Foreigners, ducking and dodging Nicolas quickly made his way threw the jungle towards them. However he was aware that no doubt some younger and inexperience soldiers of theirs may not like a man running towards them so he yelled:

"I am Nicolas, your guide, who is in command?"

Jalowitz was fuming with rage. He was hiding behind a stone, and every time he tried to crawl forward, a bullet would whistle past, fired by a enemy soldier he couldn't see. The sniper obviously tried to pick off an officer,as indicated by the red scarf he had tied around his left sleeve, but he also effectively stopped Jalowitz from reaching a young IRS soldier who was standing only ten meters from him. The man was a obvious rock-and-roller. He had fired off four magazines in the five minutes Jalowitz had been watching, and now was working on the fifth. As far as the officer could see, he had not hit anything but trees so far. The uninterrupted firing prevented him from hearing Jalowitzs, who was yelling for him to stop. The older man was getting more and more frustrated over the meaningless waste of valuable ammunition. He took a quick decision and stood up, firing a couple of rounds in the general direction of the sniper. He did not wait for the result. Instead he sprinted as fast as he could across the open ground, ignoring the bullets that whistled past his ears. He covered the distance in less than two seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

"Stop, firing, you idiot!", he shouted as he rolled into cover. The young soldier looked surprised.

"But comrade lieutenant, I'm killing loads of fascists. I've got at least ten of the bastards."

"The only thing you've been killing so far is trees. You are wasting ammunition, you young fool. Now, give me that rif..."

He stopped in horror as he saw the soldier's head explode as a bullet found it's way into his left eye-socket, spraying Jalowitz with blood and grey matter. The body stumbled and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Jalowitz kneeled and felt for the man's pulse. Meaningless, of course. The young boy, no more than eighteen years old, was as dead as any stone. Another martyr for the Revolution, as Günther would have said. Rather another young, promising man killed by lack of training and proper equipment, Jalowitz thought gloomily. But there was no time for doubts now. Whether he liked it or not, he was far to involved to bail out now.

Suddenly he realized that he gunfire had silenced. No, he could still hear it, but the sound was growing fainter. The enemy was retreating. With a sigh he threw his rifle aside and sat down, taking a sip from his canteen. Günther was coming towards him, a happy smile on his lips. Jalowitz had to fight a sudden urge to punch him. Instead, he nodded tiredly in greeting.

"We did it, Andreas!", the captain of the IRS proclaimed happily. "We made them retreat. Isn't it wonderful?"

Then he saw the dead boy and the smiled slowly faded. Jalowitz nodded quietly in answer to his silent question.

"He is dead. Took a bullet right in the skull. There was nothing I could do."

More of their men was coming towards them. Two were carrying a third between them. A shot in the stomach, they told Jalowitz. The combined medic/lieutenant shook his head. A slow, painful death, nothing he could do anything about out here. He gave the man some morfine so that he wouldn't feel pain his last few minutes, then turned to the ones he could help. Apart from a man hit in the ancle, no one else had any serious injuries. He put on plasters and handed out painkillers to the ones that needed it.

He was so tired that he didn't notice the man that against until he yelled. It was one of the men they had met in the forest. So this was one of the famous Villa brothers he had heard so much about? Günther stepped forward as the man asked who was in command.
"I am. Günther Boden, captain of the International Red Spear. What can I help you with?"

"I am Nicolas Villa, I am your escort for this operation, and from the sound of it we need to get across those bridges ASAP before they get taken out. Take anything useful from the fallen and lets get out of here. Have your men follow me."

International Red Cross? Never heard of it?

Nicolas did not wait for a response, instead he turned and ran to the bridges, looking for his brother. He managed to find an AK off a dead Foreigner which he slipped over his shoulder, along with the munitions and few other supplies they were carrying. By the looks of it so far these were not the professionals that Zapata promised, they seemed to be just as desperate and young as the Mokans. Upon finding his brother through the mess that the battle had made he quickly traded him the revolver for the AK.

As he kept going he ran into the group that had now pushed the Militarist back to the bridge. They held the treeline that allowed them to fire on the retreating forces as they tried to cross the bridge to the northern side. It was little more then a one sided slaughter, this time for the People's benefit.

Nicolas looked back to see his brother staying behind to make sure the foreigners caught up. Hopefully they could get across before anything went to hell. He raised his rifle and began taking shots at the retreating bastards.


Charles on the other hand was back with the Zaheranians, from any other worldly conflict a 16 year old boy with an AK leading other young boys to kill men twice their age may have seemed sad and horrible, but given the horrors that lay up the road and the ones Charles had seen. This was a sign of hope.

"Come on! We almost have the bridge! Kill the Fascist! VIVA LA REVOLUCION!"

Jalowitz did as the Mokan had said and quickly moved the contents of the dead mens' rucksacks to his own, dividing the spare magasines among the other men, before covering the bodies with blankets. It was with tears in his eyes he turned around and ran after Nicolas, leaving his two dead comrades behind, their empty eyes still open and staring into the sky.

Soon the bridges came into sight and he was surprised by how small they was. So this was what men were fighting and dying over? Ropes with wooden planks? How ironic life could be at times. He saw Gustav run past, puffing under the weight of his heavy weapon, and suddenly got an idea. If they could find a suitable spot, they would be able to cover the bridge with the M60. If the enemy tried to come across or even showed their heads on the other side of the gorge, then they should be able to greet them with a little surprise. Jalowitz waved to the young man.

"Comrade Schwartz, get your brother, grab as much ammunition as you can and come over here. "

He turned to Günther and outlined his plan. The captain of the IRS nodded his approval and patted Jalowitz's shoulder

"Do so, comrade lieutenant. I'll lead the men over the bridge, and you and the Schwartz brother cover our transition. The Revolution is lucky to have men as you fighting for its sake."

He turned away and yelled to the men to follow him as he run towards the bridge, firing against the retreating enemy. Jalowitz gestured for the brothers to follow him to a small hill, from where they overlooked the gorge and the precious bridge. The IRS liuetenant scanned the other side of the gorge with his binoculars. He could see movement in the jungle, and as no allies seemed to have got across so far, he had to assume that it was hostiles. Without taking his eyes from the binoculars, he instructed the young soldiershow to assemble and operate the machine gun. Gustav handled the shooting, while his brother was loader. Jalowitz raised his hand as the first of the IRS began to run across the bridge.

"Fire!

With a rythmic pounding the M60 began its firing, spraying the enemy with bullets.

Nicolas kept sniping off those who popped their head up when the leader of the the guerrilla group who flanked the enemy made it up to him. M60 fire raced past them as the trees began to get cut down from all the fire, mainly the heavy machine guns.

"Radio call coming in Nic! we have to get to Russell Farms to secure an incoming package. A foreigner is backing us to help us get some guy who is hiding out in Hordes ranks!"

"Then let's get over these bridges and get the hell outta here!"

"Also Zapata says get the hell outta here, Xavier has 200 plus coming in here. He is pulling out towards the rivers, try and make a break for it."

The first groups of rebels tried to make it across the bridge only to get mowed down by a small line of soldiers holding the bridges long enough to keep the retreat from getting pounded by rebels. Nicolas took a shot at the heaviest gun across the bridge he could see. However his radio operator had a different plan, aiming the grenade launcher he fired over the gorge and blew the tree line to hell.

"Hurry up and get across you maggots!"

Nicolas raced foward towards the bridge but ducked behind a tree right before he got to it, over the sound of gunfire another sound could be heard, way more dangerous then any man with a gun or rocket.

Helicopters.

*****

About 50 yards back Charles was gathering the few rebels and Zaheranians who were straggling to the bridges, he saw one putting a blanket on a dead soldier and got his attention immediately.

"What are you doing? The dead do not worry about the cold. The living need those blankets, collect those and get up to the front!"

*****

Nicolas raced with the second group of rebels across the bridge as the first Hind came into site. Its massive cannon thundered tracer rounds into the jungle, spraying both sides of the gorge to ensure the death of soldiers on both sides. This quickly became a three way battle, however Hordes had a severe upper hand. Rockets flew out screaming and crashing into the jungle. The cannon aimed at the first bridge and quickly tore it apart.

"HURRY UP!"

Nicolas yelled as he raced over the bridge and into the jungle.

The constant rattling of the machine gun prevented Jalowitz from hearing the helicopters, but then he saw them, the ominious shapes of the incoming Hinds. For a moment he was paralyzed, but then he acted fast, screaming to the two soldiers to stop firing. A machine gun position would be a prime target for the helicopters, but if they kept it quiet, maybe the Hinds would not notice them. He watched in horror as rockets and machine gun rounds tore men to pieces on both sides as the first rebel group tried to get over the bridge. Another bridge had taken a direct hit from a missile and had been completely destroyed. He realised that he and the two brothers had to get over the gorge before they were completely cut off from their comrades, even if it meant exposing themselves to both Xavier's men and the newly arrived helicopters.

He told the brothers to unassemble the M60 and load their rifles. Both were shocked by the carnage, but did as he said without questions. He then led them through the terrain down to the fourth bridge, as he figured that the enemy would turn most of their attention to the bridge that Nicolas and the first wave of rebels had used, the same that his comrades in the IRS would use.


_________________________________

Günther was to tired to argue with the Mokan and gestured to the soldier to do as the man had said. The man obeyed and folded the blankets into his rucksack, albeit with a angry stare at Nicolas's back. Günther sighed and looked at his men as they prepared for the charge across the bridge. Morale was low. Something had to be done if they were to make across alive. If someone panicked and tried to turn back, the ensuing chaos would make them easy targets for the enemy. While he pondered the problem, his saw a metre-and-a-half long stick laying on the ground, probably torned from a tree by a missile. He still had the flag in his rucksack, hadn't he, the one they had made before they leaved? He rummaged in the bag, and found it, neatly folded at the bottom. With growing eagerness he he unfolded it and tied it to the stick. A flag. A perfect gathering point for his tired soldiers. You're a genius, Günther, he told himself as he raised it into the air. A pure genius. The soldier instantly looked up as the wind caught it, showing the red spear embroider on a black bottom.

"Listen, comrades! I see that you are tired. You have fought well this thay. But one test remains. We have to get over the bridge to help our comnrades on the other side, who are fighting and dying as we speak. The fascist forces want to stop us. But they can't, because we are the Revolution, the red tide that will sweep away them and they kind forever. So follow me, brothers, across that bridge. We will not falter. We will not retreat. If we fall, we will be remembered forever. Follow me, bothers of the Revolution. Follow me to victory!"

He turned around and ran towards the bridge. A mighty roar rised from the throats of his soldiers as they followed him and the flag of the Revolution forwards.

Russell Farm,
10 miles north east of the battle

Five MPA soldiers hid in the bushes around an open field that used to feed horses, until the farm had been ransacked by the old dictator. The former farm house stood out on a hill overlooking the small field, its burned frame acted as a marker showing the incoming "assistance" where to land. The leader of the group, an older Sargent who had served in the old army years ago held the information about this special forces group. Some nation called Alfegos had a traitor hiding out under Hordes.

These guys were going to help the revolution, in trade the MPA would help them hunt down a traitor.

The soldiers sat and continued to wait for the incoming forces.

_________________________________________________________________


Charles could tell that these revolutionaries were not happy by the fact that he ordered them to forget about the dead, but what did they expect? Golden tanks rolling threw cities blowing the international Bourgeois back into the stone age? This was the real revolution. Outnumbered, outgunned, and desperate.

He ran towards the bridge and stayed low. By the sound of the fire around him they were now cut off from the rest of the forces, but that did not matter at this point. They were on their way north to get to the supplies, once there they could find a way back. Then he saw the helicopters, and another bridge explode under the fire of rockets and bullets.


".....We will not retreat. If we fall, we will be remembered forever. Follow me, bothers of the Revolution. Follow me to victory!"

He turned and saw the charge, A FLAG? were they insane? Tha'ts like painting a target on your unit. Charles ducked as the first inbound rocket strike hit.

_________________________________________________________________

Hind Attack communications:

"Batista, I see em up ahead, clear the mortars."

"Looks like the mortar fire is on MPA positions, still want me to take em out?"

"naw let them kill eachother.Lopez, is the AA out?"

"Bleached and cleaned Sir."

"Good, to the bridges."

Batista: "taking out first bridge"

Lopez: "Sir, we got a flag, not MPA"

"Who is it?"

Lopez: "No clue"

"wipe it out then."

Lopez: "Copy that, blowing em to- Holy shit, Rocket inbound!"

"Lopez? Lopez? Damn where did that come from?"

_________________________________________________________________

Across the bridges Nicolas held up an FIM-43 Redeye as the first rocket exploded into the Hind. It wasn't completely destroyed but was now incapable of flying, normally they would try and capture the pilots and supplies from the crash, but not this time.

"Get over here now!"

Nicolas took aim with his Redeye and launched at the next Hind coming in.

The IRS soldiers cheered as they saw the Hind fall. The black flag swayed proudly at the front as they ran across the bridge. The morale was higher than ever, and in their own eyes they seemed invincible, protected by destiny or the higher powers they didn't believe in. Günther was, on the other hand, very aware of the danger the remaining helicopters still proved. Two bridges had already been razed by their missíles, and if one hit the one he was standing on, he had no illusions of survival. So he ran with all the strength he could muster towards the man,standing on the other side of the bridge, carrying a missile launcher.

He felt great relief as he finally reached solid ground and saw that all of his men were gathered around him. All but three, that was. Where was Jalowitz and the Schwartz brothers?

___________________

Jalowitz was already across, even if it had been close. They had seen another brdge crash into the gorge below as they ran across bridge four, and it was soon followed by a Hind helicopter, which had been killed with what they suspected was handheld ground-to-air missiles fired by MPA soldiers. It was good to know that they had some kind of defence against the fearsome helicopters. The three IRS men were resting in a little glade, hidden from the enemy's eyes by some camoflauge nets Jalowitz had brought. They did not know if the rest of their comrades had managed to make it across, or if they had been killed by a lucky missile strike.

After regaining their breath, they decided to begin to move north. If the others had made it, they would eventually find the others. If not, they would try to join up with what MPA forces they could find. It was a makeshift plan, but for the moment, they had no better.

Most of the MPA was across the bridge when the third and final Hind began flying off deploying flares and dodging flak. The Bridges were going to stay. Nicolas tossed the Redeye missile launcher towards a fellow soldier and ran back towards the bridge with men behind him. The tree line exploded with fire from across the gorge, it appeared as if Xavier's forces had managed to catch up to them. Two MPAs fell in the hail of bullets.

"We need to blow these bridges so the Fascist cant follow us!"

"What about the ones on this side?"

"We will find them later, take these bridges out!"

Under the fire and return fire a few soldiers made it close enough to grenade the closest bridges. the sides had switched, the north side was now MPA and the south side was Militarist, this was the confusion of guerrilla warfare. With soldiers racing back to the bridge the lines re-lit up with fire from both sides.

Nicolas crawled his way back to a ditch and pulled up the Mosin, trying to shoot the bridge's supports. It was chaos.

It appeared that the enemy were now holding the other side of the gorge. The heavy gunfire prevented Günther from doing anything but watch as the rebels desperately tried to blow up the bridges. He understood that it was necessary, but it still gave him a bad feeling. What they were doing now was effectively cutting of their own retreat. They had reached the point of no return. But on the other hand, with the massive number of enemy soldiers on the other side, maybe there was nothing to return to. The remaining rebels would have to evacuate the camp, retreat and regroup, if they had survived at all. He hoped that Jalowitz and his men had managed to get over the gorge before the bridges had been destroyed. If not, he had to accept that his lieutenant, one of the few professional soldiers in his little group, was dead, along with two promising recruits. A hard blow. Along with the two already killed, that made five, of an original force of sixteen. 30 per cent losses in the first day. Not very impressive. If this continued, the whole IRS would be gone within three days.

Worse yet, Jalowitz and his group had carried their only heavy weapon, the M60 light machine gun. With only AKs and two grenades per soldier, they would not last ten minutes against trained soldiers, especially as they would almost certainly be outnumbered. They still had a sizeable supply of ammunition, but sooner or later, that too was going to run out. It all boiled down to one thing. They had to capture the stockpiles at Santa Clara, or die.

______________________________

Jalowitz and the Schwarz brothers, on the other hand, had their own problems. They had all the ammunition and weapons they needed, but they were only three, one of which had previous combat experience. Even a small enemy patrol would have no problems to overpower them, so they had to move stealthily and avoid enemy forces, a task not made easier by the fact that two-thirds of the small group were city kids, not used to the heavy jungle. On the whole, the predictions for the future looked grim, but Jalowitz did not tell his comrades this as he led them north, guided by his compass. There was no sense in breaking down their morale. They lived right now, and that was all that mattered.

High above the clouds, a small cargo jet was cruising at slow speed, relying on its sheer altitude to protect it from prying eyes. At 65 000 feet, the aircraft was at its service ceiling, the area the group was now sitting in de-pressurised in order to reduce the strain on the aircraft from pressure difference. By the ramp at the rear of the aircraft, the team of men sat around a large oxygen cylinder, talking through the intercom units in their helmets, making final confirmations as to the task they had ahead. Behind them, three large pallet crates lay on the slides in the floor, each wrapped in black tarpaulin with thick straps around them.

The team leader looked around from behind his respirator, face impossible to see behind the mask of his pressure suit, surveying the darkened interior. The only light came from the small windows further up, letting a strange light enter from the unmasked sun. Outside, the earth curved away, the sky above being not the familiar blue, but a much inkier colour. Using his hand, he turned a small switch on the side of his helmet, changing channels to pre-set 8: the frequency he had been told would be monitored by the reception committee. He began broadcasting through the plane's powerful radio.
"This is Papa - Alpha, calling all Mike elements: is the LZ clear?"

Across the intercom, the second officer's voice cut across.
"T minus sixty seconds. Prepare for equipment run."
The red jump light illuminated, as the rear doors slowly opened. At this altitude, there was almost no wind, save for a breeze as the tiny amount of retained pressure equalised. The leader stood up, grasping the release control for the parachute crates, whilst the others quickly checked over the parachute units for the crates: they were to deploy in a HALO style like the jumpers to minimise the chance of being spotted. Out the open door, the man looked down onto the clouds seemingly so far below them, unable to see their target at all.
"Papa - Alpha to Mike elements: deploying equipment now. ETA is eight minutes: do you copy?"
The green light appeared for the drop, followed by a dull crack as the equipment locks were released. The crates slowly slid down the tracks in the aircraft floor, before falling out and away behind the plane. As the plane started banking to circle around, he watched as the dots shrank into the distance, before disappearing after a few minutes altogether into the higher clouds. From there, he guessed that the main parachutes would've deployed, a small automated system guiding the crates into the area marked in relation to the plane's position by radio.

Quarter of an hour later, he found himself standing on the edge of the ramp, the six jet engines now deafening even in the thin air as he watched the lights, braced for the jump. Behind him, the oxygen cylinder had been left behind, replaced with a tiny stove-sized oxygen cartridge sticking out of the side of his face mask. His parachute was strapped on his back, already checked thrice by his team mates, whilst his heavy rucksack and radio pack lay tied to his legs with paracord. Trussed up, he was hardly able to move his legs with the 60kg combined weight, not including his chest webbing and rifle strapped to his chest. As he saw green in the corner of his eye, he leapt, a strange feeling running through him as he began falling: there was no wind. The large cargo aircraft pulled away, soon fading into the distance as he fell, with only the sensation of acceleration telling him that he was increasing speed rapidly. From here, he could truly admire the splendour of this altitude: the dark sky acting as a ceiling above him, whilst the world began curving below him. Sunlight reflected from the clouds, bright even through his darkened helmet, and getting ever brighter as he fell towards them. He twisted and arched his body, moving into the standard spread-eagle fall position, made easier by the black stabilising chute that hung behind him.

Minutes later, the skyscape had changed. Below him, the beautiful white layer of cloud had suddenly changed into a seething mass of cloud, tentacles of vapour spiralling from the surface, with the wind now definitely present. Looking at his wrist, he saw the small altimeter was now registering 10 000 feet. Still not time. As he fell from the base of the cloud, he was hit by the landscape he had visualised in the pre-operation planning session on the ground from photography: an afforested area, with large patches of agriculture and dispersed towns.

He soon recognised a large hill in the distance, moving in towards it as he scanned the area for the landing site. Checking his wrist again, he saw it now to show 6000 feet. Deciding not to risk late opening, he pulled the cord, letting the black plastic chute trail behind him as he began steering himself down towards the burnt-out farmhouse that had caught his eye. In the distance, he could see the parachutes of his other three team members, now scattered by a couple hundred metres. The group slowly moved inwards, the trees and bushes now clearly visible as they drifted downwards. The large field they were landing in now held two large black crates, parachutes lying behind them, whilst a third had crashed into a patch of trees and flattened them.

He started running in mid air as he aimed for the ground, preparing for the shock of landing. His feet touched the ground as he started sprinting, quickly slowing down and falling over as the parachute drifted over him. Taking a knife, he quickly cut the paracord and parachute free, before dragging his bag and radio pack to a nearby bush a couple hundred metres away from the field centre, in case this was a mortar trap. After a minute, he was joined by the rest of his team, all still wearing their pressure suits. By this time, he had loaded the AF-67 assault rifle and flicked up the ladder sights, aiming out into the field. Once all were accounted for, he took the radio pack and clicked to pre-set 1, changing the microphone pick up to whisper, beginning to talk quietly.
"This is Papa - Alpha to Papa - Six: we are all down and OK. Awaiting contact by Mike elements, over."
"Papa - Six to Papa - Alpha: we receive you. You're on your own now for the next 24 hours, until Papa - Echo is in place."
"Affirmative. Papa - Alpha, over and out."
He flicked to channel 8 again.
"This is Papa - Alpha to Mike elements: we are now on the ground. Please send welcome party to the crate that landed in the trees: we'll meet you in cover there."
The man flicked up the tinted cover on his helmet unit, before slowly leopard-crawling through cover and dead ground towards the area he had specified, a hundred metres deeper in the foliage.

"This is Batista to Command, two Airborne down, I repeat, all the damn Hinds but me have been shot down. Enemy has MANPADS over."

"Take out those bridges at any cost. We will send in reinforcements MIGs to clean house if you fail. Don't expect to for your down craft to be avioded."

What made this order significant was that the Northern Army of Hordes only had 20 planes under its control. So when they deployed MIGs to a battle, it had to be highly important.

___________________________________________________________________

As the gorge became another shoot out across the openings, the familiar wine of helicopter blades became louder and closer. The Hind roared in spraying lead and rockets across the battlefield. Not towards either side, but towards the bridges. Tearing them apart and preventing anyone from crossing. In the dust and explosions the MPA and Nicolas turned and retreated back into the jungle.

"Don't shoot down the Hind! It’s doing our job!"

Hopefully the foreigners would catch on to the major retreat north.

_________________________________________________________________

Charles had been running ahead of the rest of the squad to scout out where the enemy on this side of the bridge was. Hopefully they would be split up enough to cause chaos to them and allow the MPA to capture or defeat them. Up ahead he saw a group of three men walking north…they looked like the Zaheranians who were sent here. Hopefully their spirits weren’t to badly damaged, this battle was going rather well for them. Especially since they were caught off guard and attacked. The next battle was going to be a lot worse.

He tried to sneak up on the men, to confirm who they were as well as make sure no enemies saw them. A movement out of the corner of his eye told him it was to late. An AK wielding soldado was taking name at the three. Charles turned and let off a quick burst, more so to startle then to kill. A lucky shot hit him in the side causing him to collapse.

“Come on you guys lets get out of here!”

Charles signaled for them to follow him towards the meeting spot on the north side.
_________________________________________________________________


Russuel Farms

"Where the hell did those chutes come from?"

"Way up there, aircraft the mist makes it hard to see. Doubt Hordes has anything to shoot at it with."

The small group of guerrilla soldier were making their way to the closest crate that landed near them. From the intel they got from farmers and servents of the north Hordes was massing his forces at Santa Clara, so this area should be free of enemies.

"This is Papa - Alpha to Mike elements: we are now on the ground. Please send welcome party to the crate that landed in the trees: we'll meet you in cover there."

The one soldier with the radio pulled it out of his rucksack and handed it towards the commander, who apperently knew what "papa" "alpha" and "Mike" meant.

"Welcome amigos, Securing the crate. Anything special we should know?"

_________________________________________________________________

Nicolas waited with his men deep in the jungle and waited for the rest of the people to get to the rally point. with the bridges out and the choppers fighting the other military boys, the MPA was in the clear for the moment.

"Well that was inauguration to Mokostan gentlemen. It only gets worse from here!"

Nicolas laughed to the crowed that had formed.

"keep an eye out for the other factions around here! Keep your guard up! Once we get everyone together we advance north! Commanders meet up I want to make sure we don't have any MIAs!"

The team were waiting in cover nearby the crate, and took to a knee as the Mokans secured the surrounding area, ten metres from the crate. The four figures wore heavy canvas pressure suits, made heavy by the flak jackets they wore on top and the oxygen cartridges still attached to their helmets. Two were armed with AF-67 assault rifles, one with a riot shotgun of some sort, and the final with a large bolt-action rifle, all equipment painted drab shades of green, brown and khaki. Moving slowly, the leader moved the locking clips on his helmet, taking it off with a quiet hiss of re-pressurisation.
"Good day Mokans. Here is your delivery, as we promised. The two crates in the field contain a mix of AF-67 assault rifles, ammunition, AT-62 Anti-surface and Anti-helicopter missile launchers and large numbers of grenades. This crate we have here is the one needed most securing, since it contains the best of the goods."

The leader slowly paced over, flicked a few strap catches before unfolding the black plastic surround: the interior was patterned in tropical DPM camouflage, a perfect tarpaulin for any supply dumps needing covering. Inside, a large series of wooden crates confronted the onlookers. Whilst a few were marked with obvious "RADIO, LONG RANGE" or "MINE, ANTI-TANK", the majority were marked only with "XV".
"This crate contains the more expensive equipment you will find useful. There are 30 anti-tank mines, 300 anti-personnel booby-traps, 12 High-powered radio units, a field battery charger, a small generator, and a 35mm crew-served autocannon complete with 300 rounds of ammunition. But that is only scratching the surface."

He took out one of the boxes marked XV, signalling over for the rest of his men to help him carry the heavy crate down to ground level. Using a provided crowbar, he levered the lid off the crate, revealing four large cylinders. Each was painted dark green with a single yellow star on it.
"Eighty cylinders of weaponised gas: Twenty of CR Stun gas, Fourty of Tabun Nerve gas and Twenty of mustard/lewisite tropical blister gas mix. Enjoy using them, but try to point away from face during use.

Now, my government has authorised the dropping of a further eight crates of supplies including these gas cylinders, on completion successfully of our task there. We have heard you have information of a certain man hiding in this nation. Our task is to find him, and either capture or eliminate him. Your side of the bargain is to help us find him: will you do that?"

"Wonderful, these weapons will help immensely in the revolution."

The few men were opening crates to see what was inside as a few others stood guard on the perimeter. They expected the Villas Brothers to show up any minute, while they were not the highest members on the totem pole, they had the charisma and ability to make any soldier feel like a hero of the revolution

The soldiers were enjoying the shipment until the gas had been discovered. An army of peasants who had been massacred and even gassed would no doubt react strongly and differently about this.

"yeah, now we can gas those carbons back! let the militarist die on their own gas!"

"What are you talking about? How dare we go to their levels? These are weapons of genocide, How dare you insult us with such weapons!"

The soldier raised his AK to the Fegosians as the commander took charge!

"Calm down and put down that weapon! Rodriguez! We will not be using gas!"

To the Fegosians:

"We do not know the crimes of this man you are after, but if you think we are people who would use such weapons against our enemies I do not know if we can. I suggest talking to your fellow country men and get us...conventional weapons, I will not have civilian blood on my hands."

The commander was more than used to having an assault rifle waved in his face. Even though the pressure suit and armour underneath he was wearing weighed in at 20 kilograms, he was more than able to disarm the man at the distance he had placed himself. Feeling it was not necessary, he let the others take charge.

"Our government wishes you not to take offence to being provided with such weapons. These were to be supplied as both a weapon of last resort, and as a weapon of leverage: opposing factions are much less likely to deploy such weapons on your own men in future if they know you are able to retaliate. And the cylinders of CR gas we have provided are non-lethal weapons, intended to be mixed into smokescreens to aid in clearing out areas.
Of course, when we regain contact with our government in 72 hours times, we will inform them as to your weapons preferences. They intended to ship another crateload of this, though we can replace that with a crate of machineguns and ammunition."

Completely non-plussed at the response of the Mokans, he took out a knife slowly and started cutting open the seal around his waist for the pressure suit, ripping through the wax. Having done that, he slid the heavy waxed fabric off over his head before steeping from the leggings, revealing a vibrant tropical camouflage smock and shirt underneath the heavy kevlar vest. Discarding the equipment, he shoved it with his foot into a pile, to be buried and removed at a later date.

"Anyway, away from this bad start to our negotiations. The man in question is the sort of man I have heard your enemies may be: he is the second-in-command of the PRA, a terrorist organisation that has caused serious pains in our country. As well as finding him for the information he can provide, the public is screaming for his head: evidence links him to fire-bombing schools and letting off basic chemical weaponry during the last civil war. The list of crimes he has committed is ridiculously long, and puts even the worst of your opposition to shame.
Will you help us in this?"

Günther shook his head as he led his heavily decimated squad into the jungle, following the Mokans. Don't shoot down the Hind? Do we look like we have anything to shoot it down with? If we encounter one more of those things, we are as good as dead. A root hidden among the undergrowth caught his foot and he tripped, but managed to stay on his feet. He cursed himself silently for losing his concentration and continued to run, ignoring the pain from his ankle. He hoped that it wasn't sprained. That could be fatal in a hostile environment like this. Damned jungle. The lush growth could provide excellent cover for a sniper, and inexperienced as he and his men were in this terrain, they were begging to be ambushed. And the thrice-damned mosquitos did not make things easier either. He had no idea how to deal with a case of malaria or other tropical disease now that his only medical officer was gone. And he could not afford to lose more men.

At last they reached the rally point, or whatever it was. Every place in the jungle looked the same to his eyes. He sat down, after doing a thorough check for snakes. His men did the same. Some of the teenagers were breathing heavily, already tired out. It was a shame that they hadn't had time to improve their condition before they leaved.

"Well that was inauguration to Mokostan gentlemen. It only gets worse from here!"

It did not help that the Mokans were so cheerful. So this was only the beginning? Great. He could start drawing up his last will already.

...Commanders meet up. I want to make sure we don't have any MIAs!"

With an effort he looked around. No, no more of his men were missing. He would have to report Jalowitz and the Schwartz brothers as MIAs, although he suspected they were dead. He sighed tiredly and rised to his feet. He walked forward to Nicolas and saluted.

"Two KIAs and three MIAs from the International Red Spear, commander. One corporal and one private dead, one lieutenant and two privates missing."

____________________________________

They had been walking for about half an hour when they heard the gunfire. A short burst, close to their position. The two privates threw themselves to the ground, as they had been learned, while Jalowitz quickly crouched, switched off the safety of his weapon and looked for the enemy. He recognised the man that came into sight instantly. One of the Villa brothers. The man that had been killed had been laying in ambush for them. If Charles hadn't turned up, the soldier would have been able to kill them all before they had a chance to defend themselves. He gestured to the brothers to get up and follow him as he raced after Charles. There was a safe bet to assume that the soldier hadn't been alone, and he didn't want to remain when they turned up and found their comrade.

OOC: sorry I have been busy lately, but I will get back to this

Russel Farms

The commanding soldier, named Pedro, continued with the negotiations, after disarming the potential threat in his ranks.

"He does seem like a horrible man, but I doubt he alone could put the army to shame, but yes, for a return of high quality weapons, food, water, and portable anti-aircraft, we will help you track him down.

Our comrades tell us of a Communist hiding out in Hordes' ranks, currently in the city we are trying to get to. Apparently he is funding them well, and wants to get out, but Xavier's tanks are doing well to keep the roads in and out locked down. Apparently the MAUC are fighting in the city as well to try and gain some leverage, if they find your guy, they may contact your government for a reward. However how men inside their ranks tell us they know nothing about him yet.

So we should be able to get into the city and get your man out, get the supplies we want, and get out before they blow each other to hell. If that is fine with you I think we have an agreement. Now our orders are to wait on reinforcements from the jungle to get here. "


Jungle, after the battle

The 19 year old commander looked around at his leaders, most were older then him, especially the foreigners, hopefully that didn't get in the way of the chain of command.

"Well, if they find one of my boys, then they will take em to the meeting point. Luckily we got briefed on where to meet if we got stuck on either side of the gorge. Sadly we didn't manage to get you guys up to speed on the situation."

Nicolas continued to take causality reports, confirmed 26 dead, 5 missing.

OOC: go ahead and respond, I will add more later

"Suits me fine. If, as you say, all hell is about to break loose in the area, that will give us the perfect cover. We will need to discuss our operation plan when the re-enforcements arrive, but for now let's clear up and make sure all equipment is out of sight from anyone who might be flying over."

The man moved over to the nearest crate, lifting up the tarpaulin and lifting it over to act as a camouflaged covering. The rest of the group quickly climbed up nearby trees, using twine to tie the corners. Below, the man called for the Mokans to pass up foliage knocked down by the crate's landing. Over in the middle of the field, he ordered for the large crates to be moved in: he knew the Mokans were sticklers for concealment, but wanted to make sure they did what they were required to. Nearby, one of his men had used a small entrenching tool to cut a groove in the bottom of a ditch to act as their equipment stash, piling in the pressure suits, parachutes and jump equipment, finally covering the area over with soil and a scattering of leaf litter, finally leaving a large log over the top to act as a marker and a deterrent for anyone trying to access it.
Meanwhile, the other two quickly checked over their equipment, checking all was in place.

Charles ran up to the soldier and quickly ended his life with a single shot to the chest. Then began to strip his body of anything valuable. He was carrying an enemy radio, a few clips and some rations. As he saw the three men racing up to him he began tossing them supplies.

"Take these we need to run, NOW! Who ever has spare room take this radio and the extra batteries. He looked like a spotter, a poorly trained one, but his squad is bound to be around here somewhere."

He flipped the extra AK over his shoulders and then picked up and ran North, a few shots were heard, all missing but aiming for Charles, no doubt the squad had found them.

"Hit what you see, don't use suppressive fire!"

More shots ran out, a few wild burst, followed by single shots.


_________________________________________________________________

"Very well, Here is the plan, we make it to Russel Farms, we march through the night if have to. We will meet up with some special ops from some nation called Alfegos, I think, they are making us a deal, supplies for help in capturing a terrorist from there. Let's head out!"

Nicolas told his commanders to head out, an enemy unit was around here somewhere and they did not want to find em, more important things needed to be dealt with. They packed up and began the march to the farms, it would be about a days trip, but once they got there and connected with more outsiders, well the operation could go either way.

__________________________________________________________________

Günther was furious. So this teenage commander had neglected to inform them of the meeting points. Well, thank you, your bastard. You might have just got five of my men killed unnecessarily. Damned fool, you ought to be thrown down that gorge. With an effort he managed to restrain his impulse to strangle the young man. No, that would not make anything better. It would be more productive to assume a diplomatic approach. He forced a understanding smile.

"I understand. Well, everyone can make mistakes. Especially when they are in a hurry."

_______________________


Jalowitz caught the radio and stuffed it into his backpack, along with the batteries. A bullet whistled past his head and buried itself in a tree. It looked like the rest of the soldiers had arrived. He turned around and fired a short burst against the first soldier that appeared, gesturing to the brothers to run. More soldiers appeared among the trees. He took covered behind a tree as a hail of bullets perforated the ground where he had been standing. No idea to stand and fight. The soldiers outnumbered them far to greatly. No, he had to run for it. He leaned out from his cover and fired a few shot to get the soldiers to keep their heads down, then began to run in zick-zack, dashing from cover to cover in the knowledge that it was harder to hit a moving target.

OOC: I have had one hell of a week, will get back to this soon

OOC: Fluid time a little bit, approx 12+hours

IC:

The final skirmishes in the jungle had been quick and deadly. The fascist attempts at ambushing the foreigners had been ambushed, Charles knew that from the single shot bursts he could hear from afar. As the single shots got less and less frequent with even less bursts, he knew the rebels were winning. Luckily they had escaped, and over the next few hours the groups managed to meet up here and there, and soon enough the force lead by the Villa's were at the meeting point, Russel farms. In total about 50 Mokan guerrillas were at there, ready to march to the city.

At the farms the commander did his best to hide the gases, he knew that Charles and Nicolas had seen the effects of mustard gas first hand, as a village had been gassed because someone in it was hiding them. A long story but they barely escaped, barely alive, 30+ innocent people killed. Charles grew from that to hate any gas based weapons, and would kill anyone using on the spot. Nicolas on the other hand, would be more then willing to use that gas on the pilots of those planes, let them die a long miserable death.

From the jungle Nicolas came out to meet with the soldier in charge of the Alfgans, after some short pleasantries in Spanish the soldier showed Nicolas some of the weapons they had gained. After some smiling Nicolas called over the Zaheranian commanders to talk with the Alfgan commandos.

"Welcome to Mokostan, I hope my men have taken care of you. Please meet some of our friends in our revolution, Commander Günther. Now can you show a few of us farmers to use these weapons Mr....?"

To Günthers relief Jalowitz and his two men had somehow managed to survive, and they had happily reunited with the main group. The skirmishes with the enemy soldiers, he did not know if they belonged to Xavier or Hordes, had died out. For the latest few hours they had just marched through the forest, too tired and tense to talk or even slap at the ever-present mosquitos.

At last, the meeting place came into sight. Russel Farms, the place they had fought so hard to reach. A large number of Mokans were waiting. Günther counted to at least fifty, and that was excluding himself and his men.

With a sigh he sat down and took his rucksack of his back. He opened it and took out a plastic water bottle, one of the three still left. He downed half in one greedy gulp. The lukewarm, musty water felt as refreshing as if it came from a cold mountain stream as it rushed through his dry throat.

He heard steps behind him and turned his head to see Jalowitz come towards him. He nodded with a warm smile as the lieutenant sat down besides him.

"Glad you're alive. I thought you've been trapped on the other side of the gorge."

Jalowitz shook his head with an ironic smile.

"And I though you had been. No, we just took another bridge while the fascist where busy trying to get you. Joined up with one of the Villas, the younger one, Charles or something. But anyway, now we're here."

He saw the older Villa brother wave to them, standing with his brother and some men who were clearly not Mokans. Professional soldiers, their posture and equipment showed that clearly.

"Seems like our glorious commanders wants us to join them. Shall we go?"

Günther nodded and stood up, stretching his stiff muscles. With his subordinate half a step behind him, he walked forth to the Villas and their foreign friends.

"Greetings, comrades! Are you here to aid the revolution?"

During the time between the landing and the rest of the Mokastana forces arriving, the aeromarines had been busy. Their own jump equipment had been hidden in a small dug stash, now with the heavy log covering all the equipment. They themselves had cached their rucksacks in a ditch to the edge of the farm, a quick reconnaissance of the area giving the perfect position as well as points to set up three sentry posts to cover the equipment that had by now been fully unloaded, packaging moved into a deep pit the men had helped dig.

By now, the men had got used to the lack of tactical discipline of the Mokans, noting how the party that now approached failed to form a snap ambush to catch anyone tracking them. Not that it was a matter for them to be worried about: they all had discussed how to get to an ERV in under two minutes, and were quite happy to leave the Mokans to their own fate. The Captain watched as he noted Zaheran faces amongst the others present: there were obviously more factions than the two he had been briefed on. At least this lot seemed allied. Keeping his eye on them though, from his position at the cache, with the other three commandos taking position at sentry points around the camp with whatever Mokan they could find relieving them whenever, he stood up to greet the new arrivals.

"Good evening. I am the head of Team Pinhead, a branch of the ISS in Alfegos. You can use my call sign of Papa Alpha if you ever need to refer to me as such. I apologise for the secrecy, but it is part of my brief. We're here on a separate basis, but in this case we can say that we are supporting the revolution.
But, to the goods. I'm sure your men all know how a rifle works? Any rifles we have here are pretty easy to work with."

He took an AF-67 from an open crate of twenty, showing it to the man.
"Reliable, and easy to fix in case of a stoppage. Basic cocking system, safety being done on the same catch to full and semi automatic. Magazine of twenty-five rounds, ladder sights, and entire mechanism being removable with the correct multi-tool. which should be provided in the rifle pistol grip. Recoil is quite heavy, so I'd recommend staying off full automatic. Apart from that, easy to use - if there's a stoppage, hit it until it starts working again.

Anything you want to know how to use? AA missiles for example?"

The man by now had got the hint from the Mokan captain they had met that the men they were talking to did not have the best of views on chemical weapons.

"Mi Dios, we need some AA, my unit just used our last Redeye getting here, Horde's faction got their hands on some Hinds, not sure how, but while in the city we may need to figure that out."

Around the unit some of the militia began forming up a perimeter, however many of the troops here had not had the training needed for this operation, seeing as the "training camp" had just been blown to hell. So the experienced soldiers began showing the new recruits the basics, showing them how to hide, what to look for, the best way to sit as to not get numb legs etc.

By not Nicolas realized that these Alfgans were aware of how desperate the army must seem, after all the commander this man was talking to was only 19, half of his men had been on farms only weeks ago, and now they were nearby a burned field with only trees and debris for cover. No doubt they had their own escape plans in case the situation got to hairy.

"My apologies, we are not the most, well trained army on the island, but I can guarantee you any of these soldiers would rather die then let this mission fail. The army is fighting because their generals tell them to, the Corporate Army fights because it needs the money, we fight because we have nothing left."

Behind him two men were unfolding a rather large map. The goal was to plot the easiest way to the city, where to set up a temp command center, and from there, who to find and what to ask them.Charles sat next to them and began explianing....

"You see, there is a man named Jose, he lives on the outskirts of the city, one of his close buddies is a checkpoint guard, in exchange for his family safety in the mountains, he will let us inside undetected...."

"Hold your horses commander. No disrespect, but we will come to the actual operation in a few minutes. First, I believe it might be an idea for you to get the men to help finish caching the dropped equipment, so that they do not fall into hostile hands. Once we have done that, and you have set up adequate defences around the camp, we will be able to talk tactics. Until then, make sure we are not spotted: tell the men they are to eat cold rations until they move out from this area."

Behind him, one of his own team had left the sentry post to some Mokans, and was busy with helping move the last remaining parts of the third crate into one of the pits dug out. Heavily wrapped up and mostly in their own packaging still, they would come to no harm underground, a layer of turf above them and the remade debris on top hiding them from the most observant of eyes. A small cross had been cut into the nearest tree, to act as a marker for future weapons use. To the side, useful equipment had been left out: a threesome of AT-64 anti-armour guided missile sets along with ammunition and wire spools lay ready to be used, alongside the more expensive anti-helicopter missile. Rifles lay ready to be claimed with ammunition in a small line, watched over carefully to make sure each Mokan got their fair share. A pile of grenades and other assorted equipment lay ready for the taking in case needed, including a large 20kg anti-tank charge and two long-range wireless sets.

Soon, the rest of the equipment was hidden. Night was approaching, the usual stand-to the Alfegans were used to not being called, with them ordering the sentry posts to be withdrawn further in to the central area and for the Mokans to form a defensive triangular shaped encampment. A platoon harbour, albeit much larger and now with heavier firepower. Breaking a small green glowstick to act as a low-level light, the commander called in his four men from duties over a small cleared area inside a wooded copse, a poncho spread between two trees on two bungees. In the centre of the cleared area underneath lay space for the Mokan commanders, along with a large map and some aerial photography of the area they had been provided with before the insertion.
"Right then, to the business you called. We, as you know, are after this man."
The commander pointed to one of the photos: a dark skinned man, with a rugged complexion and shiny burn marks to the shoulder. The shot was blurred and slightly off focus, evidently taken in a rush or from long-range surveillance.
"This man is, as you know, one of the most despised men in Alfegos. He's the number two in the People's Revolutionary Army, a terrorist group that has committed many atrocities as of late. The most famous incident you will be aware of was the fire-bombing of a school in Il'vi during the Second Civil War, which is an overblown way of describing a series of terrorist attacks across the south of the nation. Anyhow, he is responsible for the deaths of possibly thousands of people during this time. We want him both for information, and so that he can get his due reward: most likely a very public death.
We have fulfilled our half of the bargain, so now it is your turn. We have heard that he is in a nearby city. We will be extracting him and bringing him here, from where we will move him to the nearest area of open ground for a plane to pick him and us up and take us back to Alfegos. What we need you to do is help us find exactly where he is, and provide a diversion to the fighting to allow us to pop in and out without any unwanted visitors interrupting us. I'm sure you can do that? From the briefing I've got, you're quite the character. You definitely give me a run for my money, and I've seen things that you'll hopefully never get the misfortune to ever happen."


In 1954, the Commander was a recruit in the Democratic Army, as part of the severely depleted remnants of the 3rd Light Cavalry division. The war had reached a point where they were, indeed, resorting to horse charges in attempt to replace mobile infantry. He had the rank of Lieutenant, and had become eligible to join the army mere weeks before. His unit had seen a sight few men had seen before: the flash of an atomic weapon. The weapon had been used as a last resort to destroy the communist army, marching in through the weakest part of the democratic defence.
The blast killed ten thousand men and women within minutes, either through the searing heat or the echoing shockwave that some say was heard across the whole of Alfegos. Another fifteen thousand of the marching army died within the next few months, many from injuries obtained but most through ARS. The blast, whilst winning the war, came at two terrible costs: the loss of many, many people, and the ejection into the local area of material from an underlying Uranium deposit. As a result, the democratic military cordoned off all land within fifty kilometres of the epicentre, not even allowing for the collection of bodies. The remains of the communist army, equipment and bones in various states of decay, lie there to this very day.
The commander was involved in treating captured survivors, the medical corps being overstrained so severely that normal soldiers were forced to give the most basic treatment. In the week following the blast, he had to face the results of one of the worst diseases imaginable: radiation sickness. Row upon row of grey-skinned half-corpses, the little remaining function in their digestive systems and loss of white blood cells meaning all were attached to saline pouches on a lottery basis: one in every three men had one available. Other than that, the only treatment was excess of morphine, to stop the incessant pain of burns, both radiation and heat.
From that experience, he swore never again to support the government. Yet with his bravery recognised, he was invited for a trial course in the newly-founded ISS, his experience with the few surviving officers of the company detached to his group giving him valuable knowledge of the People's Revolutionary Army. From there on, the rest followed.

OOC: Italics are spanish

IC:

"Cold rations? You assume we have food. Damn Foreigners Will do."

Charles put the information up and began walking over to his commanders to get the orders down the chain, but first thing first was to form a chain. Nicolas called his name and yelled something in spanish to him about keeping his mouth shut. Then Nicolas turned back to the Alfgans.

"Please forgive my brother, he is still young and if he had it his way, we would be marching through the night to get to the city."

As the night went on the Mokans let the Commandos lead the camp, after all, according to Nicolas, they were well trained men, and our soldiers were just farmers who needed the guidance. Soon enough it was time to discuss the details of the operation. Both Charles and Nicolas sat with two other commanders listening to the briefing.

"How can they call themselves a People's army when they bomb schools? What kind of man can kill children in the name of the revolution? I say we get over there and put a bullet in his head outselves for disgracing the name of the revolution!"

"Charles calm down! Now back to the operation. We have men inside the city, as of their last radio broadcast Xavier's tanks from the south had somehow managed to get around the gorge and blitz the city. They are not their yet, but Horde's has nothing so far to stop them. We may expect some tank battles in the city. If that is so I recommend against using the trucks like originally planned, and instead walk into the city, the walls should be easily destroyed.

As for your man, we believe he has been staying in the Romanov Hotel. Unless they have another well paying refugee hiding there. I studied in Santa Clara so I can easily get us around there. Now we know that they won't fly him out of the battlefield since the Russian has air superiority over the entire north side of the island. Land travel is possible, but guerilla teams on the north side of the city have been told to keep an eye out of this man. We have the entire army prepared to hunt him down, so even if we don't get him here, we will hunt him down til the end."

The commandos marked the map where the city was, before one of them shifted some foliage to form a small model of the city, listening as the Mokans spoke of the description of the city. Another took out a pencil to start marking the map.
"So Xavier's force has control of the gorge up to the city? If you are correct with the amount of armour, I would recommend a forced march to the city. I would recommend us taking two days to do it, the distance of about thirty miles should be covered in that time. We could do it in a day, though the two day trek to this hill near the city would allow us to reconnoitre the target overnight for the next day march to the city walls. The second night would allow us to perform a CTR on the area, before we take them out. On that matter..."

The leader gestured to another man, who disappeared for a moment before dragging back a heavy unit.
"Thirty kilograms of anti-tank mine charge. I believe the shaped nature of it would allow us to plant it and take a good section of the wall out, trusted you could lend us a few of your men to aid us in dismantling and placing it. We have a marksman in our team, so he can help cover the placing of the charge, whilst any air and land problems should be solved by the equipment we've dropped here.
When we're in the city, which we will have to move into rapidly due to the alert we'll get from most of the wall being blown down, I think your men should split into their separate sections to minimise the risk of being intercepted, before meeting up again at the remains of the public library... assuming the place is not in opposition hands. From there we can mount the attack on the hotel."

The commander sat for a few seconds, before taking his bulky radio set and changing to one of the preset channels.
"This is Papa Alpha to Warming Sun - requesting permission for use of long-range conventional strikes."
"Warming Sun to Papa Alpha - we currently have no capable units in the area for undetected strike. We will be able to launch up to three strikes given two hours prior notice. Do you wish for strike?"
"Negative for now - will contact when necessary. Keep appropriate units on standby."

He turned back to the Mokans.
"The good news is we have long-range air support, in the form of air-launched missiles. The bad news is we're limited. What I was thinking of doing was using one strike against the tanks in the area to act as a diversion to the fighting so we can take our man from the hotel, then using the other two with cluster munitions to clear a large passage for our retreat and to sow confusion amongst the enemy.
What are your opinions on this plan? Is it possible with the resources you have here?"

"Missile strikes, it will be like God himself is sending us help. I like this plan, but there is still some aspects we are missing, you see. The Mokostan Army of United Corporations may launch an attack here as well. We are not sure of what forces they have, but we do know that they have been waiting for a moment to strike. What they value in the city is beyond us, but to our knowledge Hordes does not consider them a threat for now. but if things get worse, that could be why.

As for this plan, I think our men will be able to handle that. We will get into the city and find our contacts to tell us where the supply catches are. We will take what we can and blow up the rest. A primary target is the fuel depot in town, if Xavier can capture those, we will be outmatched against tanks for future battles, but if we blow them. It should be smooth sailing for the most part.

If the library is in enemy hands, I say we move the old University two blocks down. The student center is solid concrete, should be useful, doesn't look like much, but it could work.

If we strike as Xavier's forces attack that should keep the chaos high enough to allow us the quick in and out as needed."

OOC: umm a bump?

"Excellent. I think we can agree on that. Keep up a sentry rota and make sure your men get a rest: we'll be moving the whole of tomorrow until the late evening. We'll be getting some shuteye now, but will do our bit to keep the place running. If something happens, wake one of us straight away, but keep as quiet as you can."

The man checked his rifle, before pulling his bergan into the middle of the cleared area. He flicked it open and detached the sleeping mat, before taking out a small sleeping bag liner.

"You know what stand-to is? Just to remind you, make sure all the men know that they're to all get into cover with weapons made ready, until they're given the order to stand down. Stand-to is at 6:00am - make sure all your men are packed fully and have eaten before then. We'll be generous and move out at 6:30, meaning they'll have time to get everything ready if they're late risers. If we get attacked, make sure they all know they'll be taking whatever they've packed: the enemy won't wait for us to pack up. And on that note, make sure when we move out there's nothing to suggest we've been here: leaves back as they were.
Make sure the other lot know as well: I don't what them straggling behind."