Boliatur's Finest Hour

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Rijeka, Carentania
Fort Rijeka

"I'm being transferred?"

Colonel Hafner, the highest ranking female member of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Carentania, threw a confused and worried look to Marshal Krajnc. He had always been the first to break important news to her, Milena Hafners close friend in the High Command. Representing the Revolutionary Army in the High Command of the Workers' Republic, he had worked tirelessly to support his rising star, grooming Milena Hafner ever since she had distinguished herself when she was still a captain. Throughout the Solaren campaign she had led the First Airborne and while her eyes firmly remained set on the post of Marshal Bizjak, representing the Revolutionary Guards Corps in the High Command, she had believed her next step on the career ladder to be the command of the entire division. The news that she was to be sent to Jurchen came as a surprise to her.

"We are putting together a secret operation to support Jurchen efforts in Boliatur and back the democratic government of that country. High Command has chosen you for this mission." Krajnc remained so calm it was hard for even his protegé and close friend to guess whether or not the Marshal considered this a positive change of events.

"Perhaps on the recommendation of Bizjak. Tell me if I'm mistaken, but has it ever crossed your mind that he just wants me out of the picture so the right-wingers in the military can continue their campaign against women in the military?" Milena was fuming.

"Oh, that's without doubt his intention. His little lapdog Mladic has been rattling the campaign drum the entire month now."

The Colonel sighed. "And you just let him get away with his little scheme?" Her last few days hadn't been so good either, with private troubles in her relationship troubling Milena Hafner, she had little energy left to put up with the incosistent support she was receiving by the man who had initially set her onto the road towards High Command.

"Milena," he finally dropped his pokerface and assumed a fatherly smile, "this is a transfer, not a demotion. We are all men above you, but we are not all mysogonists up there. Bizjak may have seen this mission as an opportunity to remove you from the equation, but with your records in Solaren, the only way to do so is to award you a highly prestigeous position. You'll be leading the entire operation, you'll formally be commander of the Raven Brigade and you will also have the final say in any matters concerning the other units participating in this operation, may it be the company of the Revolutionary Navy Aviation or the RAI agents."

A little relaxed by the reassuring words of Marko Krajnc, she let herself fall back into her chair, taking the mission briefing into her hands for the first time and skimming the reports to get a first impression of the task at hand. As Marko had already noted, part of the operation would be the Revolutionary Guards 1st Infiltration, Sabotage and High Intensity Combat Brigade - or less cumbersome, the Raven Brigade. A special operations unit formed from the best men and women in the entire Revolutionary Guards Corps. Their nickname alluded to the raven featured prominently on its coat of armor, itself an hommage to an old Carentanian fable about a lowly raven defeating the mighty eagle, king of the skies. A symbolic tale of social criticism from the 18th century every Carentanian child grew up with.

On the other half of the operation - the Revolutionary Army Intelligence and its agents aside - was an unnamed company from the Revolutionary Navy Aviation. Apparently, from what Milena could gather without completely reading the reports, the Workers' Republic was developing a new jet airplane designed for long range and high speed interception of ships in the Long Sea. Boliatur was the perfect opportunity to conduct some final tests on the prototypes and evaluate their combat performance in a very realistic environment.

"All men and women under your command will be experienced veterans, Milena." Krajnc tried to improve Milena Hafners view on the operation. "You get the best ressources we have to offer and albeit limited in scope to about a brigade in size, that is more than enough to score some impressive victories and prove your worth. Bizjak and Mladic can cry all they want about their rejection of women in the military, I am confident they will not sway public opinion in this issue. With or without your successes out in the open. And once that mission is through and the All-Workers Congress reaffirmed its position on female service, you'll return from Boliatur with so many victories that even Bizjak can't do anything else than promote you to General. Even if the public will never know."

"Fine," Colonel Hafner resigned. "When do I leave?"

"We'll have you flown to Jurchen tomorrow evening. A major from the RAI and a commander from the Navy will join you, your direct subordinates in this mission. Most of the equipment, including the planes, is currently being loaded into the ships and will be sent to Jurchen alongside humanitarian aid for Boliatur."

 

[Josepania]

CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNIQUE TO THE KHAN DORJSURENKHOROLIJAV AND HIS REPRESENTATIVES ~

I am instructed to speak on behalf of the Hegemon and his Executive Cabinet, indeed all of the Mezhist Union, when I say to you that your potential leadership over the people and lands of Boliatur is a far more acceptable alternative to the corrupt Red Hordes of communism or the political plague that is post-delegationism, and that the Mezhist Union is prepared to do anything and everything necessary to ensure that this comes about quickly and decisively. As we speak, though, your lands are invaded by these two monstrous ideologies, one in the form of naked aggression from the puppet state of the Jurchen Republic, the other more subtle, but equally as dangerous, in the aid packages sent by Carentania and other like-minded communist states, all in a futile but determined effort to keep the Mrysinist Clique alive, perhaps long enough to set up more malleable puppets in the near future.

Such a scenario is intolerable and unacceptable to the Union of Swieczieman Mezhist Republics, and therefore, despite your initial success in the capital city of Mrysini, we in the Mezhist Union wish to offer you and your cause aid, in the form of an expeditionary force committed to fighting for your cause and to turn back the hordes of corruption and death... though perhaps 'wish' may not be a strong enough term: we strongly recommend our presence at your side. While we have faith that your cause is shared by a majority, if not all the people of Boliatur, the communist and post-delegationist are cunning foes, and we in the Mezhist Union wish to take no chances of leaving you without every possible weapon at your disposal.

We await your reply and your blessing with much anticipation.

Sincerely,
Boleslaw Gorski, General Executive of International Affairs

 

[Northern Cooperative Unions]

The Khan scanned the dilapidated, unused office. His eyes set upon his desk and piles of papers, his wrinkled face contorting to a frown. He shuffled through various old Council voting ballots and pieces of useless jargon, tossing papers to and fro. He heard the door to the office open and the feet of his secretary entering the room, but he could not bother but wipe away the filthy ballots and words of hatred away from his table. Eventually, the secretary tossed a fresh letter on to his table. He narrowed his eyes, staring up at the young woman. The woman rushed out of the room. Alone, he scanned the letter from Lower Swiecziema with a smile.

Quickly, he shifted his creaky hands over to a typewriter at the far end of the desk.

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE TO LOWER SWIECZIEMA BY THE KHAN OF BOLIATUR

Prepare your men for the struggle, brother. As long as the wind whistles through our steppes, we will stand by you.

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Mukyang Joint Forces Center
Jurchen Republic

The noise of the planes engines was deafening, even inside the pressurized cabin of the airliner. Colonel Hafner was trying her best to concentrate on the reports she was reading, but after several hours of monotone roaring from the propeller engines, she was plagued by headaches and seemingly tired. She had travelled by plane before and less comfortably too, in crowded military transporters when she was still a paratrooper, the cabins filled with the cool and thin air of high altitudes - but never before had she crossed such distances by plane and she would never have imagined it to be so tiresome. Milena Hafner was close to falling asleep over some tables with troop strengths listed in endless columns, when one of the pilots entered the cabin, yelling at her on the top of his voice over the engine sound.

"Colonel, we are now entering the landing phase."

It took her a second to realize what the man was telling her, but after that, Milena Hafner was wide awake again and sat upright in her seat, readjusting the medals on her chest and the green beret on her head. Within a few minutes, she would enter the Jurchen Republic and adress those of the soldiers under her command who had already entered the country in the last few days. She couldn't look tired and exhausted upon her first meeting with men and women who were supposed to follow her every order.

"Milena," the man to her left demanded her attention. It was Major Tadic, commanding officer of one of the companies of her new brigade. During the flight the two had gotten acquinted enough that the Colonel had offered him to adress her by first name. Hafner preferred a colloquial tone with her comrades. "It'll be quite cold in Jurchen," he said while offering her winter coat to the Colonel. And he was right, Milena thought to herself, this wasn't the Long Sea anylonger. This was a region where it was already freezing during the nights - unpleasant for someone from a country where, in most parts, it wouldn't get so cold even during the height of winter.

The plane landed without complications. In front of the airfield, a large formation of Carentanian soldiers was waiting. Men and women in the olive-green coats of the Revolutionary Guards Corps next to the dark-blue of the Navy, green berets besides black berets. Special Forces and Navy Aviation. Albeit numbering in the hundreds already, the units were not at full strength yet. Officers and NCO's, no troopers at this time. The Colonel would make her adress to only a fraction of the units to be deployed to Jurchen, but she intended to leave a good impression on them.

She saluted to the formation, greeting them without words.

"I am proud," she adressed them, her voice carried across the open airfield without the need for any loudspeakers. "Proud to be given the honor of commanding Carentania's finest soldiers in such a mission. And as ill-mannered it may be to praise oneself, I will disregard the polite manners to tell you this: no one in the High Command would have granted me this honor had I not deserved this, had I not deserved it, were I not able to live up to this task. It is my honest intention to work my hardest to make sure you get the commander you deserve."

She mustered the soldiers in front of her, trying her hardest to figure out any hints to their impression of their new, female commander. There was none, there was discipline. At least in that regards, it was reassuring. Maybe there were many men in the Raven Brigade that thought lowly of her for merit of having a vagina - but even so, they would follow her orders. Their honor demanded it.

"When you will finally dispatch for your missions, you will be wearing the uniforms of the Jurchen Republic, disguise as their forces because Carentanian involvement in this conflict must remain hidden. But for as long as we will stay on this base, you will keep your actual uniforms, you will have the honor of remaining a soldier of the Workers' Republic within the confinements of this compound. I want you to be reminded by your uniforms that we are and will always remain, soldiers of Carentania, the mother of Socialism.

Dismissed!"

The formation dispersed in an orderly, well executed fashion. A single man, a major in the uniform of an army soldier.

"Colonel, an honor to meet you," he introduced himself. "Major Sergeij Rosenberg, Revolutionary Army Intelligence. I'm your contact officer for section 7."

"Pleasure to meet you," Milena Hafner nodded politely.

"And I must immediately voice my protests. It takes only one witness, only one man with a camera and Carentanias involvement in this war will be public. The repercussions will be severe!"

She was unimpressed. "Major, you intelligence types have many redeeming character traits, but you have little sense for the honor of a soldier. These men need this, they are rewarded everyday for risking life and health on the frontlines by knowing who they are, what they are: soldiers of the most advanced society of Europe."

"And Major," she added, "I need a handful of agents, native German speakers. And I need a passenger airplane that is not a design from a socialist country. Make it happen."

 

[Natal]

Mukyang Joint Forces Center
Jurchen Republic

Colonel Lev Komorowski was in his room, praying in front of a small Diagist altar. The altar was made from a small wooden figurine of Bies, the god of reincarnation ,birth and love, represented by a black raven, and two twigs, an olive one and lavender one put on each side of the wooden raven and one their right, a candle was lighted. When he finished the pray, he opened his eyes and sighted. The steam that got out from his mouth fascinated him. He never left Himyar and even in the coldest nights in the southern continent he didn’t see steam coming out from his mouth. It was one thing to know about it from school and another to actually see it. As the steam dissipated, a man chocked three times in the door.

“Tovarășe Colonel, the last contingent has arrived.” Komorowski stood up and got out of the building followed by the soldier. Yesterday, more Carentanian forces arrived in the base, and Komorowski was able to see for the first time his partner in commanding what was hoping to be the “Himyari Expeditionary Force” made of Carentanians and Medians. He was awed by the fact that the Carentanian commander was a woman but knew that if she chooses to come here she surely wanted this job done.

The arrival of the last contingent meant that the Socialist Republic was ready. The People’s Council made it clear to them that the defense of a Post-Delegationist Boliatur is the thing needed to have an outpost from which the Mezhist Union can be…let’s say…observed. In the base, the soldiers wore the black uniforms for the Military ProNat, albeit without any insignia, as they were volunteers, but when they will arrive in Boliatur, they will change them with the Jurchen beige uniforms. When the Carentanians will be ready, the Medians will leave alongside them.

 

[Northern Cooperative Unions]

"Twenty degrees, repülőgép!"
(OVERVIEW OF BOLIATUR)

The Boliaturian Navy falls for the ploy by the cunning Jurchen government, quickly maneuvering themselves towards West Boliatur near Mrysini. Already, swathes of militiamen storm the capitol to set up barricades, thus fortifying a front against the Western Coast. Balgaa is an open city, ready and ripe for the taking. The East remains quiet, already dwindled to simple militant tribes and fighters, not eager to fight. What is left of the Citizen's Council and their loyalist forces have been pocketed nearby Balgaa, willingly ready to help any forces that intervene in the war. The Khan's Army remains stationed in Mrysini to protect his throne. Jurchen's corridor is open, and the stage set for the first battles of another large, bloody war in the history of Europe.

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Eastern Boliatur

The joint operations of the Carentanian, Jurchen and Mediani forces proceeded without significant problems. Carentanian soldiers made parachute-drops deep within the operational zone, ready to push on and open up a first corridor to the pocketed loyalists. Swift, efficient, disciplined - and provided by Jurchen with support from the sky, unchallenged by anything the Khan could muster. Carentania had sent its special forces to fight a secret war and they were determined to end this battle on the cold steppes of northern Toyou quickly.

Further south a small segment of the Raven Brigade was securing ports to maintain a stable supply line to Jurchen. Once the first heavy equipment was on the ground, the advance would speed up considerably. But almost more importantly, following the tanks and trucks for the military would be the freighters with aid for the civilian population, with food and clothes and fuel for heating. The people of Boliatur would experience the arrival of the forces of the free world not as yet another chapter of uncompromising warfare in its bloodstained recent history; they would experience the arrival of the men and women in the uniforms of the Jurchen Republic as the end of hunger and cold.

Amidst the many hundreds of soldiers of the first wave of assaults by Carentania was also a small group of agents from the Revolutionary Army Intelligence. Just as Colonel Hafner had demanded, they were native German speakers. Once rid of their parachuting-gear they would be dressed in unconspicious civilian clothing, carrying only hidden firearms and false passports identifying them as men of Eiffelländer citizenship. They would path their way towards Mrysini and seek contact to the Khan. All of them were aware as to just how risky this mission was, but the Colonel had also stressed to them what could be gained should they be succesful. They had all agreed with "that woman", as the troopers had begun calling the Colonel. Not one of the RAI agents was part of this mission against his will.

 

[Northern Cooperative Unions]

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Eastern Boliatur
Balgaa, 15:34.

Balgaa, the once hungry and bustling city was a labyrinth of catacombs, tombs for the once hungry and oppressed revolutionaries that died under Magleis Nodovinya's rule. The sounds of horns and traditional marching sounds blared from speakers in the main directorate plaza of the city. The sounds of soldiers marching had long been gone from Balgaa, and already the Khan's rule was giving the few citizens that remained in Balgaa something to eat. The remaining soldiers were a brigade-sized unit of the Khan's Guard, one of Boliatur's longest standing military force. Breastwork was laid out along the western side of the city in the event a Mrysini invasion force came to their door, yet the enemy in the east went unheeded.

A young soldier in the Khan's Guard scanned the night from a brick bank in the center of Balgaa Square. His eyes narrowed in on a human figure on the eastern horizon of the city's steppes. His thoughts were quelled when he realized it was likely a comrade from another outpost on the edge of Balgaa. More silhouettes began to lift themselves from the desert sand. The one figure was now at least twenty figures, and more and more silhouettes began appearing. The putter of engines in the distance perturbed him, his heart quailing as he saw the shape of tanks on the dark horizon. The figures were now swathes of Asiatic soldiers, sprinting across the steppes towards Balgaa.

 

[The Federation]

The Sylvanian Volunteers
​

The beaches were covered with the clamor of moving men and equipment as the multinational force established its foothold into Eastern Boliatur in an attempt to restore the elected government. Walt Vachon, a private in the Sylvanian Volunteer Infantry Battalion stood upon an embankment looking into eastward into Boliatur, Lasseter rifle in hand. Resistance had been minimal, thanks to advanced incursions by paratroopers and he wondered if coming here would be a waste of time and money for a cause that likely did not need their help to see through. Walt put such thoughts of his mind and allowed memories of his trip up to this point invade. A few weeks ago he was in the town of his birth, Twin Echo, a small town in the foothills of the Echo mountain range. A good many of his fellow militia men from the Twin Echo rifles had joined up with him to recruit like minded militiamen in the city of Baldwin-Whitehall. Baldwin-Whitehall was a world a away from Twin Echo in size and culture, skyscrapers dominated the sky and the sounds of the busy streets were deafening. When he found that over three million people lived in the city he felt extremely small, but not as small as he did now as he watched the militaries of three other nations unload every piece of equipment they could possibly fit into their huge transport ships.

When they arrived in Jurchen, the culture shock was almost too much, Walt had never seen anything other than a white person for all of the 20 years he had lived up until now. He had seen people of different races in newspapers and heard about them in radio shows, but nothing could compare to the experience of seeing a multitude of different races in a short time period. Though he had heard stories of how one shouldn’t trust non-whites and foreigners of all types, the Jurchen men he had been fortunate to actually communicate in English with were alright by him. He had even had the opportunity to sit down and drink with a few Carentanian troopers; he couldn’t believe the men he had drank with were the same a multitude of nations characterized as evil commie snakes who might stab you in the back at any given moment. Over the time he had spent in Jurchen before the invasion he had met a multitude of different people, started picking up the basics of languages he was exposed to, but not enough to speak a coherent thought. When he found out the Carentanian Colonel was a woman he about almost pissed his pants laughing at what he had thought was a playful joke, but when he realized it was true he truly realized the difference between their cultures.

Despite the mostly amiable attitudes toward each other, he felt the ever present curious suspicion about the presence of the volunteers and they were suspicious of them as well, but no harm or foul was truly meant by it. Walt had hoped to erase any nagging doubts and suspicions of them by fighting hard for the shared cause of freedom for the people of Boliatur. Many people back home in Sylvania spoke disapprovingly of how the reactionaries of the world lashed out at Boliatur, but they could not do anything about it due to their principles other than scold. Men like the Volunteers felt it was there duty to help protect the freedom and rights of all people and Walt’s beliefs were firmly grounded in this line of thought as well. It irked him that Sylvania did not take a more aggressive stance against imperialist powers who regularly violated the rights and sovereignty of other nations. His mother and father had immigrated from Valmy to work in the mines near Twin Echo and when they had found out that family members were killed in the Engellexic assault on their homeland of origin they felt helpless and weak. Not this time, Walt would do anything to make sure Boliatur had stayed in the hands of its people, not kings and queens.

A sprinkle of seawater hitting his face brought him out of his thoughts, his friends and fellow infantrymen were making their way over the sandy dune he stood upon. They wore the uniforms of Jurchen just like everyone else, but upon the side of their steel helmets they had painted a dove, a symbol of peace and of Sylvania. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder Walt and the volunteers joined the other advancing troops in the push eastward.