Ground Zero: Bourgogne

Discussion in 'The World Stage' started by Elben, May 18, 2019.

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  1. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

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    Operation: Other Foot
    Part the First


    Designed and produced simultaneously with the much larger and unmistakably deadlier Prowler submarine deployed and manned exclusively by the Office of Naval Intelligence, the Modular Special Combat Submersible had seen use no more than a dozen times outside of training exercises.

    The small submersibles were just a bit more than 20 feet (6 meters) long, capable of conveying no more than 6 men (of whom 2 must also serve as crew) and their most absolutely necessary equipment at depths not to exceed 30 feet (about 9 meters), and hard pressed to cruise at 6 knots for any extended period.

    Despite their rather unimpressive specifications, the MSCS's did offer the specially trained "cargo" and crews inside their mostly synthetic polymer hulls one very important advantage: as near to absolutely silent insertions directly onto (potentially) contested beaches as was possible with modern maritime engineering.

    So it was that while Gallo-Germania and the rest of the world were still aghast at the hammering success of the Domain in evicting the North Burgundians from Ouistreham, the Cussian Navy was preparing to expand operations to the rest of what had been Neustria. Now that he was in-theater, and expressing more than a little of the now decades old rivalry between Air Force and Navy, Admiral Speier had opted to oversee the process of developing the plan that would become Operation: Other Foot personally. Most notably in this case, he had selected the 37th Marine Special Operations Command (known to the world more commonly as "Marine Raiders") to carry out the MSCS mission immediately, without reservation or second thoughts.

    While the Air Force Airborne Service's Blue Stripes enjoyed a more fearsome reputation abroad (deserved and rightly so), Speier harbored an expectably notable difference of opinion. For Heracles Speier, neither the Pathfinders or Raiders were surpassed by "those motherf!@$ing Air Force pansies," and between the two of those the latter were clearly the more "elite" formation. He and 37th's current CO, Colonel Reginald Cynewulf Ziggley were close somehow too - once upon a time they'd roomed together "back at The Academy" and shared a Masonic fraternity and Lodge - as the scuttlebutt went.

    They were the only ones with any experience using the not quite cutting edge but still pretty sharp MCSC's, besides.



    a few days ago
    in the shallow waters of the Engelsea a few miles south of Boulon,
    SW West Burgundy


    Carefully and quietly they went, gently breaking the surface of the midnight dark waters of the Thaumantic above their triangular formation of MSCS's. Boulon gleamed and glittered in the star-scattered sky to their right, just a few miles in the distance northward, marred by none of the telltale black, smoky columns of war the country's larger port now suffered under. Unseen, but casting a shadow over the whole broken country was that other port, Ouistreham lay well more than a 100 miles to their left (south) like a cancer in the back of one's mind.

    There'd been no expectation of even perfunctory native patrols in the deep waters offshore of West Burgundy's second highest volume port, Boulon, and
    Lieutenant Aldhem Dunsford found it hard to quantify how much that pleased him. "An angry she-dolphin could queef generally in your direction and bust that fuggin' hull wide open," had been the warning they'd all received the first time they'd deployed in one, and Dunsford had not forgotten it this time.

    Having only recently earned his promotion to Primary Lieutenant, Dunsford often worried he was still a bit young to be serving as the Executive Officer of the 37th's Raiders 3rd Company, despite having made it through his fortnight-long baptism of fire as a commander alive, uninjured and with his (2nd) platoon intact, all in the ever more infamous meatgrinder of Ouistreham.

    That even the proper, true and legitimate "old school" combat veterans serving alongside him counted Ouistreham as a memorably tough fight, and had vocally lauded his abilities as a field commander had eased that insecurity slightly, but he would still be a decade and a half younger than most tomorrow.

    Time for doubt and self reflection is 80 miles behind you, they were all out and had their gear unassed out of the MSCS's now, far from his soft bunk on their "mother ship." Securing the hatches they'd entered and exited from, as well as for those smaller compartments within which their equipment had been stowed, the narrow little tube-machines were sunk (by design feature) and anchored to conceal their presence from any West Burgundian turncoat that might come this way in daylight tomorrow, already in Pillau's employ and happy to report something out of the ordinary for even meager consideration.

    Their progress checked against the pitiless face of his watch with some satisfaction once all were ashore, Dunsford ordered a quick inventory recheck and made sure to enter their trio of sunken vessels' coordinates into his command-tablet. By the time that was done, he found 17 thumbs up waiting to confirm that the inventory check was complete and all accounted for. Nodding his own confirmation, the Raiders sorted themselves into formation without requiring the order, primed and ready to move.

    With a last, rather thorough look into the dark of night on either side, Dunsford waved the men of his ad hoc command off the deserted beach, wordlessly and without incident, into the summer-thick, albeit scrubby countryside around and immediately outside of Boulon.








     
    Last edited: Sep 5, 2019
  2. Kadikistani Union

    Kadikistani Union Well-Known Member

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    20 kilometres East, Southeast and South of the frontline
    Flatlands
    West-Burgundy

    The encroaching roaring of the Kadikistani M-90 battle tank engine signalled Shlebuchya Colonel Slavko Stojiljkovic and his second-in-command Major Uzakbay Aytiyev to get up on their feet. Both men had arrived only about an hour earlier in what seemed to be a road in the middle of nowhere leading West. By the time the CONPROFOR marked Kadikistani tanks and other vehicles were in sight Aytiyev was pissing against an unfortunate pine-tree while Slavko lay with his back in the dirt, looking at the sky, thinking about the near future while enjoying the symphony of bombings and gunfire in the background. Aytiyev closed his pants while stating the obvious, "Here comes the brass...", he muttered looking into the distance with that typical Kadikistani emotionless straight face. He did not even trying to hide his thick Cernajani accent as both him and Slavko went back several years and a multitude of missions, even listing each other as 'preferred operatives'. Slavko spat out some leaves he was chewing as he got up using his KVD-4 sniper rifle as support to get on his feet. Swinging his rifle behind his shoulder both him and Aytiyev emerged from their cover and walked onto the road, Aytiyev signalling their countrymen.

    The spearheading tank column approaching the two civilian clothed Shlebuchya officers belonged to the 237th Guards Tank Regiment of the 17th Motor Rifle Division under General Ngapoy Ren. The latter was a heavily Kadikistanized Xinhaiese war hero that had earned further distinction during his command on the Burgundian front during the 7 Days War. He was the single most successful ethnic Xinhaiese person in the All-Union's heavily entwined military-political arena. Most of his kind only managed to gain regional prominence at most, but Ren had made his name known to all corners of the Rurikgrad Pact. The man was ambitious, but also well-aware that he would have to fight twice as hard as a Slav to earn his stripes. Distinction through combat seemed the most successful instrument to gain social promotion in an overly elaborate system that was still plagued by Slavic and Kadik institutionalized supremacy.

    Upon acknowledging the signals ahead of them the column broke off, one row heading north while the other redirected to the south. The last tank of the column seemed to race towards Slavko and Aytiyev only to pass them and form a blockade with the barrel pointed west about 50 meters down the road. The tanks were followed by several RAT-50 APC's heading in different directions, but never beyond the 20 kilometre line. Two of them followed by a cargo truck also drove up the road in the direction of the totally unimpressed looking Shlebuchya, Slavko nonchalantly lighting a cigarette while Aytiyev smelled his fingers. A few dozen men in standardized Rurikgrad Pact uniforms with white Pax Germanica patches on their shoulder and helmets jumped out of the back of the RATs. Their officers quickly ordered to them to unload the truck and set up a checkpoint down the road like Continental Protection Forces would do for all roads leading to the battlefield from their established periphery.

    The latter was part of what became known as the Containment Line, which was to be established all around the enlarging beachhead the Domain Forces had managed to obtain. The Thaumatic unified high military command along with the supreme command of the Burgundian People's Republic had been notified of these movements and its immediate intentions since they entered disputed West-Burgundy. About fifteen minutes after the first APC arrived the rudimentary checkpoint had already caused a small traffic jam of about 200 metres, civilians or even deserters fleeing the violence in the west. While the bulk of the soldiers were either securing the perimeter, fortifying or manning the checkpoint and setting up communications a Southern-Krasnislavian Sergeant approached Slavko and Aytiyev.

    The Sergeant set up a direct line with General Ren who was 14 kilometres back east in a small rural town called Termont, which was in full process of being turned into the forward operations field headquarters of the All-Union sector of the CONPROFOR containment line. "Comrade General Ren, this is Colonel Slavko Stojiljkovic, BAH7538, National Directorate of Intelligence, do you read me?", Slavko said formally as he was exhaling the smoke from his cigarette. He sighted as it became clear that he first needed to be patched through by a member of General Ren's staff. A few seconds later the General came on the secured line, "I must congratulate you on your preparations, Colonel.", a deep voice with a undetectably fake Kadik accent said, "The Party is pleased of the progress that has been made. Now let us see if all of it will be needed", Ren concluded with a touch of arrogance. "Affirmative, Comrade General. We will continue our operations as before, but this theatre is yours.", Slavko replied remaining formal, respectful and hoping to end the call as soon as possible.

    He could not escape debriefing General Ren for a little under 10 minutes. The latter also sharing with Slavko a more detailed explanation of the Containment line. Besides blocking the roads in and out of the conflict and occupation zones the barrier was certainly not figuratively. Along the Kadikistani sector the two divisions dug in, strategically placed their assets and set up significant air defence systems. Armour in front, some covered and others in the open, supported by mobile infantry and artillery, barbed wire and small minefields. With the mutual briefing over Slavko quickly tossed down the metal communicator, adjusted his sniper rifle on his back and casually started walking west.

    "Where is he going, Comrade Major?"
    , the Krasnislavian Sergeant enquired. Regardless of the surrounding noise Slavko overheard the Sergeant and answered him just loud enough while he kept walking. "I have been here for three months with not a day to relax. I'm taking some R&R... Uzakbay, I will return in about 14 days, you run Tirlemont until then." Both Major Aytiyev and the Sergeant looked with admiration at the man in track suit with a sniper strapped to his back walking away into the conflict zone, "Sure thing, Boss. Have a good hunt!", Aytiyev responded before turning to the Sergeant who was still gazing in awe at Slavko disappearing behind a distant treeline, "I need one of those civilian vehicles, now."
     
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  3. Nitra

    Nitra Well-Known Member

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    20 kilometres Southeast of the frontline
    Flatlands
    West-Burgundy


    General Eugen Tesarik, a balding, tall man in his mid 50s, was heading the Nitrian contingent of the CONPROFOR, the 150th Hussar Brigade, formed of volunteers from the People's Army and the Partisan Units of Democratic Nitra and equipped with SKOT APCs and BMP-2 IFVs. The units have left Nitra through Vel'ky Dur, through the road that went along the coast of the Polesian Sea through Crotobaltislavonia, where it met with the Kadikistani and Imperial forces of the CONPROFOR and then entered Bourgogne.

    He really enjoyed to see how in the East, as much as the Grand Duchy was part of the empire and not a target of the Domain's operation, Burgundians were still Burgundians. You could see in them a mentality typical to a country and a people that were a great power. A pride that went towards arrogance in Tesarik's mind, but something that made them strong enough to go on in the present circumstances. "The cut touched the bone. It just can't enter more," one of his aides commented when he saw how the happy cheers the CONPROFOR received were mixed with an increase of morale and fighting spirit, as the Ostmarkers especially were masters of such hearts and minds operation. It was clear for Tesarik, that there might have been three Burgundian states at some point, but when there is a foreign presence on it's soil, the people always unite and in the end, they can be from Chagny, Neustria or Pillau, they are still Burgundian.

    The CONRPOFOR units were lined along the Containment line, with the Nitrian headquarters being situated in a village that was evacuated, with the front being so close, named Ripont. Tesarik ordered his units to block all the roads along the containment line manned by the Nitrians and also to prepare defensive positions. He knew that should the Engells attack CONPROFOR, this is complicate things exponentially, but also he would never think that they will stop at the containment line. That optimistic idea made him imagine how Cussian tanks would come and literally stop face to face in a stand off with the Kadikistani, Imperial, Slavonian, Ostmarker and Nitrian forces. That made him laugh, but he knew, it won't end like that. If the containment line would be probably at the border between West and East Burgundy, that might have been different, but not like this. He knew the brunt of it won't be carried by the small contingents of Nitra, Ostmark, Slavonia or the Eiffellander one, larger, but less... warlike, but by the Kadikistani and the Imperials, with the latter being extremely interested in it considering their claim on Burgundy and the anti-catholicism of the Domain.

    "When the hordes of the Eternal Empire came through Sarmatia towards Gallo-Germania, the Eiffellanders were scared shitless. It was through not the power but the perseverance of a small principality that they were blocked. Duke Pribina did it in even worse circumstances. I would say that it is time to do what Nitrians do best. Kill the hordes, block the tidal wave," he said to his aide, before he went to the radio to communicate with the High Command of CONPROFOR that the Nitrian contingent has taken it's positions.
     
  4. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

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    Operation: Other Foot
    Part the Second





    earlier today
    in the waters of the Engelsea a few miles south of Boulon,
    SW West Burgundy


    Dunsford and his force had learned about the firebombing of Ouistreham from civilian news in Boulon, or right outside of it.


    On their second evening in this part of West Burgundy, huddled around a boxy old radio set in a musty barn a few miles outside of town, they'd learned that along with hundreds of their comrades, the city they'd fought to liberate had been all but wiped from the map. That Ouistreham burned changed nothing about their mission, or even their present circumstances, but as Dunsford noted to his men - "This does tell us these Fictionals have some steel left in their hearts, somewhere. If they were even the ones that pulled this off, we all heard what the Colonel said about the Implarians before we left."


    The SSB had people all over the country, and had for years in some cases. They maintained all sorts of covers, and safe-houses, like the one Dunsford and Co. were using as their base of operations.
    The cold-eyed, rawboned spook had only stayed long enough to hand off the keys to the farm, a thumb drive and folder of images and other pertinent intel he'd deemed to be of likely use to the Raiders.

    To say this intel is useful is an almost political-order understatement Sir, Dunsford had told Col. Ziggley in the course of that evenings scheduled report. It had been too, of such value that the Marine Spec Ops team had only needed to perform cursory reconnaissance of a number of sites to confirm the spy's own findings. Someone inside Boulon had managed to maintain something like a cohesive civil defense plan, as yet unidentified within the known chain of command of military present that had not deserted their posts when the country collapsed. That soldiers and law enforcement hadn't abandoned their posts in the numbers initially suggested wasn't precisely a shock to Dunsford - he wouldn't have absconded - but it did confirm some of the darker suspicions harbored by the eggheads up the chain of command.

    Still, that they'd obviously been on duty, in place, wasn't an entirely negative thing for the sake of Dunsford's mission parameters. On the contrary, those positions were now not only marked but given precedence for later. Fire departments and police stations went back on the list as well.

    Originally intended to place a number of explosives at key sites around the city, the Colonel had waved them off on that particular, given the city's dutifully loyal civil servants and servicemen. "They'll come down anyway, we know what and where they are for sure now. From three ways. Tuck in, and wait for the hour Lieutenant, we won't be long." Which had surprised Dunsford, given the rather blood and guts reputation the SpecOps commander had earned over the years.

    Dunsford quickly learned that lack of willingness to waste the Raiders on a few bomb-plantings stemmed not from any great concern for their lives, but because he intended them for something more critical during the execution of Other Foot itself. Still, Dunsford was happier with their prospects on the new task than he'd have been with the former. The only real negative he could seize onto, immediately, was that it left them with nothing else to do but sit tight and wait - through the whole of the next day - now that the recon was done.


    Three quarters of a pack of cigarettes, two MREs and a fitful afternoon nap later, the moment they'd been waiting for finally arrived.

    Darkness would soon descend over West Burgundy again, and though the Sun was now half hidden behind the western horizon, the air retained much of the same sticky, humid heat that mid-day had known. A number of Dunsford's Raiders remarked how it reminded them of Ouistreham.

    "Not quite the same, we're covering a few new bases this time." Checking his watch, Dunsford switched the radio back on.
    On every station that the Raider Lt. cycled through, the same message was being played. Speaking in perfectly accented Burgundian Frankish, a man identifying himself as a Commander with the Navy of the Confederated Republic was ordering the people of Boulon to immediately evacuate the area immediately around their port city's docks and waterfront. Likewise, they were to immediately evacuate from the immediate vicinity of any and all fire departments, police stations or soldiers barracks. They were being given one hour from this broadcast to conform to these orders.

    The Cussian Commander on the radio went on to add that all routes out of the city would remain open for civilian traffic, and anyone seeking to peacefully leave would not be harmed or impeded. Anyone who remained in the city after an hour, especially in those locations and sites specifically named in this broadcast would be doing so at their own peril.

    "And that's our cue. Make sure you've got what we'll need, and be ready to move out in 15." Dunsford delivered his orders clearly and concisely, already practicing what he'd preached. By this point in the evening, that amounted to nothing so much as rechecking everything for the sixth time - and then a seventh.

    Ready at last, the Raiders set out into the twilight, heads on the swivel but with their eyes mostly focused on Boulon. Soon enough, the first air to ground missiles began to smash down onto the city.




    OOC: Out of time for now, more to come.
     
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  5. Burgundian People's Republic

    Burgundian People's Republic Active Member

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    Captain Gerard Dieppe's section were resting by the side of the road,Their place in the line was to be filled by elements of the Pillau City Volunteers. They were supposed to be here at least forty five minutes ago. bunch of fucking amateurs. Finally they did show up. they were a mess they couldn't march in time, most of them weren't in uniform and those that did were a disgrace.
    " You're late, my men and I have been waiting for close to an hour for you, I demand to speak to your commanding officer".

    The rabble's Captain stepped out from the crowd, a short squat man with a shaven head " yeah well the roads are fucked, and we're now so quit your whinging you can go now". Gerard went to go back to his men seething with anger and frustration, He didn't know how it started but suddenly a fight had broke out between the Neustrians and the Republicans, soon fists were flying as both sides waded into the melee. Luckily another section came by to reinforce the line and separated the two groups. Gerard walked away from the fight nursing a bloody lip. He hoped the Republicans fought the Engells half as hard as they'd fought him.


    ++++++

    Pillau, Burgundian People's Republic

    Provisional Chairman Murat had convened a meeting with several leading members of the ARN, the arrival of the CONPROFOR had drastically changed the current conflict, now they just had to figure out how to take advantage of this.

    " So the CONPROFOR forces are deployed behind our front lines, correct? So if the front lines were to move it follows that they would move as well right? Now as a neutral party the Engells could not attack them without it being seen as an act of aggression".

    " You're correct sir, but I'm not sure if all of the CONPROFOR forces will be as eager to advance, certainly those troops from Kadikistan and Ostmark might be more receptive towards cooperating with us".

    " Well then its decided, we will launch counterattacks wherever there are Kadiki, Ostmarkien or Polesian forces behind our lines, we'll grab as much territory as we can and let the CONPROFOR hold it for us".
     
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  6. Engellachia

    Engellachia Administrator

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    Desiree Asmalaign rummaged through her rucksack in front of the Imperial Tiburan checkpoint guards, swearing in the native tongue casually before fumbling out a sealed blue and red folder she accidentally dropped in the dirt. Her eyes widened, rapidly looking between the two guards preventing her from entering Bourgogne on the road to Chagny. In a flash she was jogging, eyes turned back, then running eyes halfway ahead, then sprinting eyes forward to a man waiting in a civilian vehicle swearing yet further in the native tongue. They, Burgundian Civilians paid by the Thaumantic Civil Service to drop this package, fled with the full fear of their life as they left a short document behind. It was an Assessment Order exchange between the Burgundian People's Republic and Kadikistan, never intended for the eyes of the new Tiburan Empire or its regime in Chagny.

    1. Situation
    a) Enemy Forces
    1) The Bourgogne Regime in Chagny is a paper tiger propped up by the likewise unsubstansial Tiburan Empire, uncertain of its leadership and vulnerable to seizure by the Revolutionary Burgundian Republic as supported by Kadikistan.
    2) Chagny-Bourgogne Forces are being directed to our own military front, and shall be indoctrinated in socialist solidarity of the Burgundian People's Republic. The Tiburan Empire is incapable of subjugating another province, and shall completely fail to defend its gains in Chagny.
    3) Tiburan Imperials will send token forces to the front, distancing themselves from the Revolutionary Chagny Republicans we seek to seize as allies.The illegitimate regime in Chagny stands no chance against conventional forces that challenge the Engells, or guerilla attack tactcs that brought down Neustria.
    b) Friendly Forces
    1) Supported by the million man armies of the Pact, the Socialist World Revolution is additionally supported by armies from Ostmark, fellow travellers in the struggle against the state being set up illegitimately in Chagny.
    2) BPR Revolutionaries shall retract from the front the Engell Domain only to occupy the edges of Tiburan Bourgogne, preparing for revolutionary rescue operations in Chagny.
    3) The united front presented by CONPROFOR shall lull the local population of Chagny into acceptance of BPR, Kadikistani, Osmarkian, and Rurikgrad Pact forces in the region.
    The op order continued to detail the positions of the Chagny military and how revolutionary BPR and their communist allies might attack. Produced from seized intelligence by Engellachia's Combined Armed Forces from the Burgundian People's Republic, this fake was the first of many iterations to come reinforcing the same concept: the BPR would not end with liberation Neustria, it would energetically pursue this Burgundian Civil War with the help of Kadikistan until Eastern Bourgogne and Chagny fell under the Rurikgrad Pact.
     
  7. Socialist World Republic

    Socialist World Republic Well-Known Member

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    Boulon

    The blaring of Sirens ripped Helen out of her afternoon sleep. She had been working a nightshaft the day before an desperately needed to catch up on her sleep, but she knew better than to ignore the alarm echoing across the entirety of the city. It had awakened her roughly and suddenly from her dreams, but within a second, she was fully awake, an impending sense of dread settling in as she began to realize the meaning of the sounds.

    She had followed the instructions closely that had been handed out by the civil defense committee for the city. Like others, she had prepared a bag with her essentials, which she had placed next to her door and could now quickly grab on the way out. Masses of people were already hurrying across the streets, but with a clear sense of purpose and destination, they weren't as chaotic as they could have been. Here and there, soldiers and policemen hurried in opposite directions, while civil defense volunteers could be found guiding the fleeing citizens out of the city.

    There was a gathering point nearby and Helen had it memorized. Together with her neighbours, she assembled at a small park on the corner of an intersection. A civil defense volunteer was handing out cigarettes to the adults, chocolate to the children and kind words to everyone in an attempt to calm them down. He was visibly shaking himself, so his efforts remained noble, but futile. Every now and then, one of the cars passing by would stop, offering a ride to some of the people in the crowd. It fell to the civil defense volunteer to assign the seats, so the children went first.

    An ambulance rushed past with sirens of its own and flashing blue lights. Still, amongst the fleeing masses, it was making progress none the faster than anyone else. Its destination was one of the hospitals of Boulon, where patients would be evacuated as part of an organized effort, too. Not just by ambulances, but by volunteers who had signed up their vehicles for this operation out of a sense of duty and empathy to those already struck with sickness or injury during this trying times. A considerable number of them were injured soldiers, rushed in just days prior from the frontline to the north. No one in Boulon was trusting the hospital to go unscathed during the impending attack. Not with the fierceness of urban combat and not with the savagery of the Cussians on the other side.

    After what felt like an eternity, but in actuality had been little more than minutes, Helen was assigned a free seat in a sedan, which began speeding away for the highway. Armed guards - policemen for the most part - had set up a checkpoint on the way out. As the civil defense committee had announced beforehand, cars with free seats would not be allowed to pass, which was meant to ensure that people like Helen, who had no vehicle of their own, would get a chance to be evacuated. Furthermore, the lane into the city had been barricaded and guards there would be ordered to shoot at anyone trying to leave the city as a wrong-way driver. The military needed to roads into the city to bring in reinforcements and supplies for the expected battle.

    Helen looked back as the strangers she had joined fleeing from the city accessed the highway. She had spent her whole life in Boulon, where would she go now? How long would she stay away? Could she ever return? What if Boulon burned to the ground, just as Ouistreham did?

    Boulon

    As civilians hurried out of the city, soldiers and militiamen hurried to take their preplanned positions. Divided into small squads and assigned zones missions they are to pursue independently within them, they all knew to do the moment the sirens began shouting. There was no need to get back in touch with their commanders to clarify their orders, could even continue the battle uninterrupted if the chain of command were to collapse, though, of course, they maintained contact with their superiors if the evolving strategic situation would require it.

    Just as importantly, it meant that, while everyone had a mission and a position, few needed to have an overview of it all. The Cussian secret operations scouting the city had remained obscured to the defenders of Boulon and they were blissfully unaware by the Domains hopes to annihilate their positions through airpower. What the command had been acutely aware of, however, was their own insufficiency in aerial defenses and the superior strength of the Domains air forces. Thus, they had obscured their defenses from enemy recon and placed them into unassuming buildings, often hiding troops in cellars and basements. In other cases, they had eschewed the obvious strategically placed targets, expecting the enemy to take out buildings that just were conveniently placed to oversee a major road for example. Troops for these positions would take cover in nearby buildings, waiting for enemy pre-landing bombardements and only taking the more strategic positions once the enemy actually began approaching it.

    The combat teams assigned to defensive positions had their own perimeters, in which a Cussian advance could trigger responses such as the detonation of pre-planned explosive charges. Entire buildings were meant to come down on enemy forces, if they took a wrong turn during the attack. Some streets would be mined entirely, once the civilians had been evacuated from the area. This wasn't meant to imply a stationary defense, though. Units had their operational zones, in which they could move freely from house to house, preferably through underground routes or hidden passages. They kept contact with nearby units, to avoid confusion as much as possible and would not stray outside of their zones, unless ordered to or forced to fall back to fallback positions, which too, they had been told to memorize. However, within these zones, they would move quickly between pre-planned defensive positions.

    Other men and women had wholly different missions. Such as Sergeant Berger and his squad. They were one of five squads assigned to the port for a special mission. Now that the alert was sounded, they rushed down to the docks, while others began digging in at the site. Several of the ships moored in the harbor were seized for this operation and, accompanied by a selected handful of sailors and nautical officers to steer them, they began driving the ships out towards the entrance to the port.

    There, they would scuttle them in the channels leading to the port, meaning that, even if Boulon and its port fell, it would be a while before it could be used to effectively funnel in supplies for the enemy.

    Boulon

    "No doubt, this is it," the Bourgognean commander looked at Flynn, his eyes sad and tired, but his lips pressed together to form a small, lipless mouth that spelled determination.

    "Boulon is the only city to receive any such kind of warning, to have ever received it, so I think it's real. They are not trying to bomb us, like they do in Pillau. It's not destruction they seek, but panic and confusion. Hence the announcement."

    Flynn knew, even though the commander was fearful what would come next, he was immensely thankful for the work Flynn had done. Together, they had prepared the city as best as they could, as best as anyone could have under the circumstances. They were confident, Boulon had a fighting chance. There would be no further step back. Still, many good men and women would die. More, if they made the wrong call here or misread the Cussians there.

    "What if they seek to destroy the city? You know, as retribution for Ouistreham?" A younger officer chimed in, as nervous as his superiors, but more visibly so.

    "Why warn the populace then? The domain hasn't exactly shown any concern for Burgundian lives thusfar, why should they now?"

    The Burgundian commander had already received more than a handful of credible reports about the atrocities carried out by the enemy, how they would take no prisoners and slaughter his people wholesale. If anything, it had served to strengthen his resolve to defend the city and impart that resolve onto the soldiers under his command.

    "The enemy warnings are also rather specific about their targets," Flynn chimed in with his broken Gallian. "It's obvious they want to strike what they think are defensible positions, headquarters, stockpiles, just military targets in general. No, gentlemen, this is it. They want to spread chaos and panic for the attack, to weaken our defenses."

    "And this means the evacuation is the first battle of the defense of Boulon. If we carry this out in an orderly and organized fashion, we will turn this to our advantage. We now know the enemy is coming and when. We are prepared. They have miscalculated and handed us a trump card." The commander was trying to instill confidence in his officers, but at the same time, his mind was racing, trying to make sure he did not forget any step of his plans, did not ignore any important detail that could help them win this.

    "We have a reply from command," another officer spoke up. "1st Guards and 7th Volunteer division are currently preparing elements to be rerouted from the frontline in the north to us. They will give us an eta as soon as they can."

    "What about air defenses?"

    "Not within an hour. We will have to make do with what little we have posted in the vicinity and hunker down to brave the initial bombardement. They are organizing the deployment of several SAM batteries for the following operations, though."

    "Good, then let us see what these Domain soldiers are made of."
     
  8. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

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    Operation: Other Foot
    Three


    now
    above the waters of the Engelsea a few miles out from Boulon,
    SW West Burgundy



    While nothing like the hammer-blow that the had inaugurated operations above and in Ouistreham, the show of force opening the assault on Boulon was far from insignificant. Eight
    air to surface missiles (ASMs) found their mark near enough to simultaneously as to be indistinguishable, High Explosive Metal Augmented Charges (HEMAC) streaking down from the sky to obliterate whatever they landed upon in ear-splitting, lung-snatching blasts.

    Chasing these by fifteen seconds, sixteen Gungnir missiles slam home, lofted from the missile cruisers Eddie Teach and Chief Ridge of Littoral Combat Ship Squadron 6 (6LCSS). Each of these mount a similar but far heavier warhead (1,315 kg, or 2,899.08 lbs), also
    HEMAC. This salvo is split between effectively "double tapping" those targeted positions deamed highest value and upon larger or more hardened sites that had not been targeted in the initial strike.

    For those still in the city and close enough to the shore - that were still able to hear - the distinctive roar of jets burning in at very high speed could be discerned over the rolling waves of the Engelsea, no more than a minute later. The roar grew louder and louder for several seconds, finally matched with visual proof of their attackers. Tiny specks on the horizon, still well before anyone on the ground would be able to make out enough details to identify the fighters as Tempests, they released their JDAMs. Six of these lurched in over Boulon, far slower than the GPS-guided, precision ordnance preceeding their deployment. Slow enough that people on the ground were able to catch brief glimpsed of the enormous "dumb bombs" as they fell, striking with a fury so great that seemed it might shake the city apart.

    Four more followed, "double taps" again but staggered by several dozen meters and fifteen seconds, ruthlessly bracketing whatever targets were unfortunate enough to have been assigned this doom. Collateral damage from these latter strikes would be immense, and quite calculated.


    By the time the first of the dumb bombs had exploded, the Tempest banked hard and sharp, some miles short of the shore. Their formation spread fast, some climbing while others cut closer to the waves, but all roughly parallel with the city. Building speed as fast as they could after dumping so much weight, the multirole naval fliers looped wide and back out to their carriers further a-sea. Other fixed-wing aircraft, Marine Aviation components based in No.C.R.E.R., were already en route to support the next phase but were some minutes out from engagement distances yet.

    The real leading edge of Other Foot came into sight from Boulon's seaside districts now, flying in so low they were just over the highest waves at times. Helicopters of the 2nd Marine Aircraft and 58th Tilt-rotor Groups made their final, deliberate approaches into Boulon's airspace, sleek and agile Marauders just ahead of their more massive Thunderhawk siblings.

    Sight of the scuttled ships was greeted with curses, a few of the helicopters poured explosive-tipped autocannon fire into the now listing wrecks, each already sending huge clouds of oily black smoke skyward as they sank to the shallow channel floor. There'd been a moment's stomach churning worry this was a screen for some last minute deviousness to confound the helicopter assault, but the truth of the matter was of little more comfort.

    Any Burgundian forces apparent to the attack helos and gunships were immediately taken under heavy fire upon approach, whether they were fleeing from the fiery ruins of blasted structures or attempting to make a defense. Where military vehicles or hardened positions were identified, rapid fire salvos of rockets raced out to blister them. Particular attention is paid to the port, oceanfront and south/southwestern edges of the city, the broad beaches there having been selected for "landings."

    The first forces to touch down did so within or just outside of the Boulon's port, an overstrength company-sized formation of the 16th Marine Force-Recon "Pathfinders." Ferried ashore by exotic looking Vulture VTOLs - incredibly loud, those - and "Super Duey" Angler helicopters, this force immediately sets about seeking out and engaging any enemy forces within the complex. The first shots are already echoing through the stacked shipping containers when the next wave of helicopters begins to arrive in Boulon.

    More Super Dueys, joined by hulking Scheraw transport helos stoop low over the landing zones vacated by their fellows mere minutes before and others further down the beachfront of the city beyond the port, disgorging the 2nd Battalion of the 6th Marine Regiment (2/6) in admirably short order. The three frontline companies of the 2/6 fan out along the desolate sands, and begin their preliminary probing thrusts into the city from the beachfront.

    The first recon drones arrive over Boulon around this time as well, performing wide orbits around the city in low passes to collect intel and identify new targets for the attack helos and gunships already striking within the city, and fixed wing elements soon to arrive.

    Seaborne landing craft gun it harder on their final approach of the battlespace, capable of but a fraction of their aerial counterparts. Funneling to preselected beaches short miles north and south of the city, with the latter landing first, it was this wave that would land much of the remainder of the initial commitment of the 2nd Marine Division's ground forces.

    The second wave of fixed wing elements arrive over the battlespace just as the first hovercraft chew into sand, running along the coast over the highways leading into Boulon on the hunt for enemy forces around the city looking to further complicate an already complex operation. Harpies in this case, slightly heavier, land-based variants of the Tempest and sharing many of the same capabilities, these attack/fighters were more than capable of sweeping the highways clean of whatever foe.




    OOC: Strategic view and scene setting here, character posts to follow hereafter.
     
    Last edited: Sep 10, 2019
  9. Ostmark

    Ostmark Well-Known Member

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    MEANWHILE, IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF BOULON...

    The convoy composed of Ostmarkian Red Cross ambulances, busses and a white infantry fighting vehicle of the People's Defense Force advanced in the outrkists of Boulon as the blasts in the distance preannounced another hard journey for the rescue workers assigned to this operation. Oberleutnant Joseph Muller had been tasked to escort ORC personnel to the city of Boulon and extract as many civilians as possible, with priority given, as per protocol, to women, children, elders and the injured. Marked by the huge flags of the CONPROFOR and the Ostmarkian Red Cross, the vehicles finally made their way into the city where scenes of panic now dominated the streets.

    Hello there guest. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!


    HQ had set the rendez-vous location in an open air parking lot somewhere in the south-western boundaries of the city center. Hundreds of civilians flocked to the area when the news of the arrival of the CONPROFOR and Ostmarkian Red Cross forces spread across the neighborhood. Oberleutnant Muller quickly stepped outside his vehicle and ordered his subordinates to light up emergency smoke flares to mark their position as best as they could, in the hope of deterring domain forces from bombing the area.

    Two soldiers of the People's Defense Force in CONPROFOR attire ran up as fas as they could to the top of one of the buildings that stood next to the parking lot to raise the flags of the CONPROFOR and the Ostmarkian Red Cross, and lighted up another red smoke flare to signal their presence to combat forces in the area.

    "ALLEZ! ALLEZ! ALLEZ! LOS! LOS! LOS! LET'S MAKE THIS QUICK VERDAMMT!" shouted Muller in the general direction of the crowd. One by one, all civilians took seats in the busses while paramedic personnel treated on place the injured, if there were any, stabilized them and packed them up on the ambulances as best as they could. Oberleutnant Muller crawled on the top of the infantry fighting vehicle to assess the situation from a higher position "This is madness..".

    A visibly shaken woman ran up to the ostmarkian, crying and shouting in a language Muller could not understand "What is she saying??? WHAT IS SHE SAYING GODDAMNIT!! DOES ANYONE HERE UNDERSTAND HER?" "Herr Oberleutnant!" replied a soldier "I think she is saying she can't find her kid!". Muller punched the IFV, hurting himself "Of course there is always a mother who can't find her kid! Verdammt.. KAMERADEN, LISTEN UP!" His shouts were almost entirely covered by the cries and shouts of the panicking crowd and the loud air raid sirens. "Kameraden Schwarzer and Fischer: you two come with me. We'll take the jeep and we'll look for this kid. Unteroffizier Peters you are in charge of the convoy. Take these people to the camp and FOR GOD SAKE MAKE THIS CONVOY FLY! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD UNTEROFFIZIER PETERS?" "JAWOHL Herr Oberleutnant!" quickly replied Peters.

    Muller, Schwarzer, Fischer and the burgundian woman ran to the jeep. Following the directions provided by the girl, they ventured further into the city center where the kid was last seen. "Herr Oberleutnant.. is this what battles look like?" asked Fischer, who appeared to be around 20 years old "No Kamerad, this is what the beginning of a battle looks like.." replied the Oberleutnant.
     
  10. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

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    Operation: Blackout 4



    the front,
    Army 49th ID, BCT Blizzard
    West Burgundy



    Stalking the ruins and wreckage left in the wake of Blackout's advance, Lt. Colonel Marek Grimm IV seemed as at home as any man familiar with him had ever seen. BCT Blizzard's XO didn't have much of the typical "Cussian look," darker eyed, haired and swarthier than most Cussian Engellkin by far. Strong jawed and clean shaven, Grimm had always cut an impressive figure, and never more so than now.

    So thought Captain Trédan Pound, at least. The junior officer had spent more than enough time with the XO now to have gained a healthy appreciation for all the ways in which the man lived up not only to his own reputation, but that of his most illustrious and namesake ancestor as well. Brilliantly cynical, fearless, indefatigable, inspirational, methodical, merciless and savage - and every other superlative I could, Pound rattled off but a few to himself, stomping hard to keep pace with his superior officer.

    "Look here Pound," Grimm rasped, gesturing to a pile of the enemy dead being collected for cremation en masse. The Lt. Colonel squatted beside the dead, waving flies aside to lift up the face formerly owned by their (the flies) buffet.

    "Sir?" Pound clearly didn't follow, but damned too if he wasn't paying attention.

    Blizzard's XO began to chuckle, cradling the jaw of a deadman. Pound actually began to worry then, going from unsure to ever so slightly disturbed as the elder man laughed. Finally, Grimm got to the point. "Do you see this Captain?"

    Quite unsure of what he was being asked, Pound remained silent.

    "Does this insult you as much as it does me?" The XO sneered down at the face of the Burgundian in his hand, barely more than a boy. "This is what they thought to halt our advance with? Boys, green fucking boys. So many hogs, sent to the slaughter."

    Grimm snatched his hand back, disgust and hatred coloring his dark features. "We represent one of the deadliest fighting forces on the face of this planet, one of the most dangerous foes any nation has ever faced. Our cause is just, the men know why they must be here. We have faced down and thrown back their amateur misadventures at every turn."

    Pound hoped he wasn't smiling, despite how stupid he now felt. Far from having lost it, Lt. Col. Grimm had seized upon the inspiration and opportunity he'd been given. The XO wasn't so much talking to Capt. Pound as much as the two dozen other men following behind them.

    "They send these, these...dregs to stop us. Boys, my boys..." Grimm looked directly to the others now, making the point explicit. "They used to call this a forlorn hope. Brave volunteers sent out to die for their comrades. To accomplish something. Not here, today, with these dogs shot down or plowed under by our advance. Forgive me, but I am going to have to ask you to kill even more of these bastards. The shame of it- that I will have to order you to expend more ammunition upon even more of these worthless Fictionals."

    Stars above, what a fucking soldier. He's either going to get every last one of us killed, or make heroes of the lot of us...one of the two. Pound grinned at Sgt Hines and his fellows, swelling with confidence and malice aforethought, buoyed by the wisdom offered to them by their exalted XO so freely here, in what amounted to an open-air abattoir. "HOOOOOOAH!" Their resonse to the sermon came as a spontaneous chorus, hardwired from years of psychosomatic conditioning, muscle memory and livefire reinforcement.

    Lt. Colonel Grimm nodded his approval, and saying nothing more spun on one boot heel to resume his prowl past the heap of dead Burgundians. It took them all a second to recover, leaving Pound and Hines rushing to keep pace again, as all the rest.

    Casting one final glance over his shoulder to the dead youth, Pound noticed a gasmasked detail from Biohazardous Disposal picking their way behind them. A few splashes of accelerant - kerosene from the smell of it (though where it had come from on a battlefield, Pound had not the first clue) - and a pair of hissing jets from their "cremation devices" and the whole pile of Ouistrians was alight.

    Like always, XO is right about that too...Pound mused, adopting more and more of the macabre humor of his commander. Hogs. They smell just like hogs.
     
  11. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

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    Operation: Blackout 5



    the front,
    Army 49th ID, BCT Blizzard
    West Burgundy



    A brief conference followed, completed with less dramatic flair than Lt Col. Grimm's sermon, wherein the XO delivered confirmation of what had befallen Ouistreham and where Blackout was headed from here.

    Expression matching his name, Grimm explained that the Ouistrian 3rd had been thrown back from their positions in the initial advance - which everyone more or less already knew - and that the 5th Ouistrian was being given similar treatment, with the Cussian Army's advance into and through the Burgundian lines continuing apace.

    Owing to the force composition and doctrines employed by the Army in forming their Brigade Combat Teams, quite a bit of artillery was still available and stocked. For Pound and Hines, this was a tale told by the pounding-shrieking-thundering hurricane of gunnery and rocketry soaring up and into the nights sky some distance from their position. Though farther away by several miles, the "splash" of this artillery swept back over the Burgundian countryside clear and hard.

    The 121st Armored Cavalry were out there as well, some miles away and a bit ahead of the 49th, launching probing thrusts into the enemy's line along this section of the front. It had been some while since they were close enough for the booming echo of their fury to be discernable from the rest of the battlefields noise and racket, but the men of BCT Blizzard would always fondly remember the sound of 40mm autogun fire.

    Two of the 49th's other BCTs, Mastiff and Vidrick, had maintained pressure on the Pillauist forces before them while the men of BCT Blizzard saw to getting their bellies full of chow and taking a couple of hours worth of just being out of the line of fire. Ready to get back to it by the time Capt. Pound and Sgt. Hines returned with orders, in other words.

    Their orders were as straightforward as they came, translating into only minor difficulties getting the finer points through the thick heads of Cussian soldiery.

    "The artie isn't all we're dropping on them either," Pound explained to the assembled company, thickly gloved finger pointing up into the darkness of the early morning sky. Marauder attack helos and Buzzardhawk ground-attack jets had been in the air for a while now, racing in to support their comrades on the ground or to burn anything that looked like it might be able to shoot skyward. Something far heavier still was coming, soon, and would act as BCT Blizzard's signal to resume their own advance.

    Pound was sure to find a vantage point offering some glimpse of what was about to land on the Burgundian lines, as much from curiosity and to be prepared. As it happened, there wasn't much waiting to be done.

    A distant WHUMP pricked at the Captain's ears and drew his eyes to the northwest, the flash of the detonation still bright enough to illuminate the huge, mushrooming cloud that had been created by the blast. Three more followed a second later, huge explosions lighting up the early morning dark very near to where the first had gone off. Then more, in their dozens, tracking a line eastward across the front before them.

    "One ton JDAMs," Hines explained to Corporal Outlaw, the munitions being dumped on the 5th Ouistrian and the rest of the Burgundians close enough to catch some of it. Firehawk bombers, four of them, raced through the sky nearly 50,000 ft above the battlefield, disgorging 80 tons of high explosives between them - 20 bombs at the time.

    The rippling shockwaves created by the JDAMs cooking off was a thing of true beauty, glowing debris and shrapnel cascading through the dark like fireworks. Few of their men spoke once the bombardment was really under way, attention rapt by the work the Air Force's biggest birds was accomplishing. Some were even startled when Capt Pound bellowed out the order to move out, into the shadow of those great columns of smoke and fire, and into the teeth of a battered and dazed enemy.
     
    Last edited: Sep 13, 2019
  12. Engellachia

    Engellachia Administrator

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    The Dead Zone Between Dulwich & Londinjou
    Operation Elkhorn Pierce


    Not since the Civil war of Engellkind had such a mighty army of Engellachians staged on Engellexian soil. Uniforms donned were crisp and olive drab, though they carried in rucks white garment additions for the coming winter. Karl Heydendahl, the Engellachian Dictator, had attached himself and several thousand HDS Mercenaries to the elite Thaumantican Guard element half as paranoid insurance, and half as a bid of public propaganda for the Domain.

    Karl had been in Ouistreham before the conflagration, met with enemy leadership to discuss moderating agreements, and none of it has been remotely successful. Now he was here with the clearly Kinist General Wesley Hilliard, smugly boasting of his own family's legacy in past lost wars, while Karl read and viewed stories of his Ostmarkian cousins mocking him at Boulon. Mere rivalry with these people was turning to hatred now, Karl was losing his grip on the business perspective that would tell him to walk away with the billions.

    "Remember what I told von Goltz?" Karl asked a fellow mercenary who had been present at the meeting before downing a personally rare shot of vodka, Engellachian and not Kadikistani in the slightest, and coughing, "anyone can impersonate the black-blad masked insurgency they show us!".

    "Deploy to Boulon!" Karl ordered.

    "The Guard isn't . . " General Hilliard began, but Karl interrupted with "No, not you, my bloody mercenaries!".

    Wesley Hilliard nodded, turned, then allowed himself as a smile as he returned to oversee the regularly scheduled training exercise for Engellachia's Thaumantican Guard in Engellex, the Northern Constituent Republic proper.

    ---

    Boulon, Neustria

    Wearing the same black uniforms and masks known to the Burgundian People's Republic, mercenaries from Heydendahl Defense Solutions drove to the Ostmarkiche contingent in Boulon in civilian vehicles and opened fire on the blue helmets indiscriminately with previously captured Eastern Gallian arms.

    The mercenaries, Engellachian Ostmarkische primarily, reveled in the profanity of the deed. If successful in their attack, they would set fire to supplies brought by the CONPROFOR. "Neustrian collaborators deserve no aid, only the traitor's flame" @BoulonBPR wrote over social media. As could be in the year of a guillotine's reign, few might predict where the revolution might find its necks.
     
    Last edited: Sep 13, 2019
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  13. Beautancus

    Beautancus Timeout

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    Operation: Other Foot
    Four


    now
    Boulon,
    SW West Burgundy



    Picking their way around the inland-face of beleaguered Boulon, cataloguing and transmitting the location of fortified enemy positions as they went, Lt. Dunsford and his Raiders were making decent time. In the entire span of hours since they'd moved on from their barnyard layover, there had only been one occasion when any of their number had been forced to fire a shot in anger.

    Well, quite a few shots, the Marine Lieutenant amended mentally. Quite a few shots indeed, Dunsford had nearly dumped a magazine before that miniature engagement had been over. Still, the Raiders had gotten the drop on those Burgundians and taken no casualties in the so-doing. There were just a lot more than it looked like...

    Shaking the sensation that the rest of the day wouldn't, perhaps couldn't, go so smoothly for them, Dunsford noted that something wasn't quite right about their surroundings. Clenched left fist held above shoulder, the Raiders stopped in place as one, rifles up and scanning for targets independently. What is that?

    Rattling, clacking, heavy engines gunning hard - some sort of tracked vehicle was on the move nearby. The ground juddered and vibrated with its approach, though Dunsford was no closer to being able to pick out exactly what it was he was hearing yet. Whatever it was, it was too close for comfort.

    A flurry of silent hand gestures, mostly perfunctory given how loud the as yet unidentified piece of armor was, and the pair of Raiders assigned to pull AT-duty for the mission crabwalked up to their LT's position. As quietly as the hardware in question allowed, the two Marines extended the firing tubes of their disposable Angon launchers deftly and swiftly, socketing the business end of their operation in place with the same practiced speed.

    Dunsford heard it then, the first bark of East Germanian, followed then by strangely accent West Gallian "gluglugluglugs" over a loud speaker. Bastards were announcing themselves even louder than what they already were.

    The AT gunner nearest to him brushed Dunsford's shoulder quickly but firmly, mouthing "The fuck?" and nodding over one shoulder, in the direction of the out of place voices.

    Ostmarkers, I guess, Dunsford mouthed back, the sickening realization of what was happening now dawning. The Communist bastards, don't know when not to poke their nose in...

    White, ugly and very much an APC, the Raiders at last caught their first sight of the "enemy." Even their commander was briefly gobsmacked by the sight of such a garish, impossible to miss piece of hardware, trundling along through a warzone without a care in the world. Waving the two AT gunners off but holding a finger to his lips for them to maintain silence, the reality of the situation caught up finally. Thrice-damned Redcross pukes, pissing against the wind as the world crumbles around their ears, he decided, as disgusted as possible.

    Giving it another few minutes to be sure the first piece of armor was alone, Dunsford shook his head in disgust and finally spoke up. "Red Cross. Like our Asklepiades Brigade," he explained, casting a wary glance back in the direction the Ostmarkers had gone. "We pop them, news will be on it like flies on shit."

    Not that it matters what Fictionals think, of us or anything else. They ought to have stuck to their fairy tales, cartoon heroics have no place here, today, the Raider's commander decided, expressing an opinion far more common than he imagined. Unto the very uppermost echelons of the Cussian leadership, even.

    These cavemen think this is just about Burgundy. They'll learn, or die to the last mewling babe at the teet.

    "Next one is almost sure not to be the pansy patrol. Light em up, so long as it's not smeared in whiteout. Make it hurt, if you can. These savages have got to learn who they are fucking with." Dunsford left no room for misunderstanding, locking eyes with the Raiders nearest to him.

    Their chorus of "Aye-Aye LT's" broiled out sharp and clear, laced with all the hate the boss Raider could have hoped for.

    "Aaaaannnnnhhh, got me some absolute badasses, huh? Enough dicking around, they're paying us to put these fuckers in the dirt, let's hop to it."
     
    Last edited: Sep 13, 2019
  14. Touzen

    Touzen Administrator Staff Member

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    Vienanjoki Continental Naval Base (Codename: Pöllöt)
    Pohjanmaa

    Elements of the 2nd Continental Naval Infantry Division, 7th Light Sailors Brigade are being mobilized at the Anti-State naval base in Pohjanmaa. These rapid response troops will be transported via airliners to Kolmar, at the southern coast of the Smalllander Confederacy, without violation of any internationally imposed zones of control. IFVs, trucks and other additional equipment will follow closely with designated transport aircraft, which will likewise make sure not to assume an aggressive stance towards the warring parties.

    Other units in Pohjanmaa will start to recall off-duty personnel and attain full readiness status at an expedited normal pace.

    CNS Yamaguchi Taro (SSBN) and CNS Marshal Dorgon (SSN) will be departing for the depths of the Thaumantic.
     
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  15. Ostmark

    Ostmark Well-Known Member

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    BOULON, NEAR THE CITY CENTER..

    CONPROFOR and Ostmarkian Red Cross vehicles proceeded south-east as per orders issued by Oberleutnant Muller in an attempt to escape the city with hundreds of rescued civilians. The convoy was escorted by a white APC of the People's Defense Force bearing the flag of the Continental Protection Force. There was no doubt on the humanitarian and rescue purposes of the convoy's presence in the area.

    The driver, the gunner and the commander in the APC carefully scouted their sorrounding, avoiding to peak outside in fear of snipers and the possible presence of IEDs. The rest of the 15 men strong platoon was scattered on the driver and passenger seats of the busses, while Red Cross workers operated the two ambulances in the back.

    From the passenger seat of the first bus loaded up with burgundian women and children, Unteroffizier Fischer had only the time to shout on the radio "ACHTUUUUNG!!!!!!" when a shower of bullets shot by Heydendahl mercenaries, in BPR militias attires, killed him and the driver. Tens of civilians were hit, either resulting in immediate death or severe injuries. Panic broke out in the busses as drivers vanishly attempted to change direction, in some cases crashing the long vehicles against light poles, buildings or debries left over on the streets.

    "OPEN FIREE!" the APC immediatly turned its turrent in the general direction of the hostiles and returned fire with a storm of 30mm Caliber from the autocannon, and prolonged bursts of 14,5mm ammunitions from the fixed machine gun, which were both operated from the inside of the vehicle by the crew "Mark 1 under heavy fire!! requesting immediate ba- *STATIC*". The tramsmission had suddenly stopped. A rocket propelled grenade had hit the APC in the back, in its weak spot. The detonation resulted in the explosion of the APC and the certain death of all three crew members. 13 Ostmarkian soldiers, including the crew members, were laying dead on the ground, while civilian victims estimated in several dozens. Two of the fisteen soldiers had successfully escaped in one of the busses, carrying a large number of civilians.

    A creepy silence descended upon the street. Soon the cries and laments of the injured replaced the fire of automatic weapons "Mark 1, this is CONPROFOR Kommando, report status and location, over." "*Static*" "Mark 1, come in, over." "*Static*". Heydendahl's men would hear a germanian voice from a transmitter on the corpse of a dead ostmarkian soldier in the driver seat of one of the busses "Mark 1! Report status and location!". In the background, a second voice could be heard saying "Mein gott.." before the transmission was closed.
     
    Last edited: Sep 13, 2019
  16. Socialist World Republic

    Socialist World Republic Well-Known Member

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    Revy
    Boulon

    The enemy attack came as expected and it hit hard. Domain bombers and drones circled above the city, dropping their deadly load mostly unopposed, save for the occasional missile streaking towards the sky from beyond the horizon, fired by mobile SAM batteries, or from within cover in the city, fired by soldiers equipped with MANPADS. There hadn't been any doubt about the enemy air superiority, but the Burgundian soldiers proved tenacious and determined. They would not let Boulon repeat the fate of Ouistreham.

    For the most part, the defenders had evacuated the targets of the Cussian air force. Warned beforehand by the enemy propaganda broadcasts, they knew to avoid likely targets until the initial wave of airstrikes abated. In many instances, it was precisely then that squads of Burgundian soldiers moved back into position, digging in amongst the rubble of collapsed buildings, preparing for the enemy ground assault.

    Such was the case at the port of Boulon, where the enemy troops touched ground first in a landing that would be hotly contested. Corporal Fourier and his men had survived the initial bombardement inside an old storehouse. From within its brickwalls they watched the enemy helicopters approach at a wide front, a swarm of black locusts approaching just above waterlevel. Every soldier remained calm, waiting to spring their ambush upon the enemy.

    The soldiers in the ruins of a similiar warehouse just down the street proved less disciplined. Some soldier must have lost their nerves, as the missile from a MANPADS erupted from within the building, mercilessly hunting down one of the approaching helicopters like a dog chasing a rabbit. The missile tore into the front of the helicopter, a fireball shredding it into two halves that came crashing down, leaving behind sharp metal wreckage and a pool of burning fuel bound to complicate the landing operation of the Domain. Equally mercilessly, the remaining enemies tore into their position, blowing it apart with gunfire and missiles of their own. Like their Cussian enemies, they left their lifes on the battlefield of Boulon Harbor.

    Corporal Fourier lamented their fate, but the lack of nerves of the other squad had proven fortunate for his own. As the enemy helicopters temporarily turned towards the source of the MANPAD, he gave his own squad the order to fire. Themselves armed with RPG's, not MANPADS, their fire would prove less accurate. But in difference to their unfortunate comrades, the entire squad managed to fire their salvo towards the enemy formation and immediately withdraw, as intended. Jumping down into the basement and entering the sewers through a hole they had blown just an hour earlier for precisely this purpose, they hurried along into another position to repeat their feat, even as the building above them collapsed under enemy fire, just seconds after they had evicted it.

    Boulon

    He had been unconscious, but he couldn't remember how he had been knocked out, nor for how long. Warm blood was running down his forehead, not yet coagulated to close the wound, giving Major Flynn a first hint that he hadn't been gone for too long. This realization came before he remembered he was in Boulon, Burgundy, not back in Concordia.

    "The major is over here," someone yelled in Gallian.

    "Dead or alive?" Asked another voice.

    "Alive!"

    A prolonged silence followed, during which Flynn got up on his knees. Every joint in his body ached and he could sense a thick layer of dust caking on the surface of his skin, but yes, he was still very much alive.

    "How is he?" the second voice came from the back, where Flynn could not make out its source. The source of the first voice, however, now came plainly into sight. It was a young Burgundian officer he had seen before, but whose name he could not remember.

    "Sir, are you alright?"

    "Barely..." Flynn muttered, first in Engellsh, then, realizing his mistake, repeating it in Gallian.

    "Do you know where you are?"

    "On a cruise?" he cracked, but, eliciting no laughter from the man, he added: "In Boulon, of course, during the Cussian attack. I take it our command post has been struck? How bad is it?"

    "The commander is dead, sir."

    Something inside him tore up, just a little, but more than he would have expected. He had liked that man, always respected him and his determination. In a way, it could be considered fitting that he had sacrificed himself for the defense of Boulon. In another way, it could be considered tragic that he had not lived to see its defense carried through to the end. In reality, of course, the true tragedy lay in the death of a man who was more than just an officer, but a husband, a father, a lover of wine and music.

    "I'd argue this makes you the commanding officer, sir." It was the second voice, now revealing itself to be another young Burgundian officer. "No time to mourn the death of the commander while the enemy is still attacking."

    Only now it really hit Flynn that the commander had been the only man in Boulon who knew he was a military advisor from the World Republic. To everyone else, he had been a volunteer in the Burgundian army. A foreigner maybe, or at least of foreign origin, but a Burgundian officer all the same. Major Flynn could not turn down his duty, Boulon relied on him, no, all of Burgundy relied on him, now more than ever.

    "Yes," he stammered. "I guess that's true." Only then he managed to compose himself at least a little and with some semblance of confidence and authority in his voice, he continued. "We will need to reestablish a functional command post. I want you to get in touch with our units across the city and give me a status update on the enemy attacks. Then contact central command to get an ETA on the reinforcements."

    Engelsea


    "Madame President, we are now entering the area which the Domain has declared an exclusive zone. It's the last chance to turn around."

    "No. Go ahead. No need to be afraid. Nothing will happen."
     
  17. Burgundian People's Republic

    Burgundian People's Republic Active Member

    Joined:
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    Messages:
    105
    Capital:
    Pillau
    Nick:
    Boro
    Headquarters of the Insurrectionary Army of Western Bourgogne.

    Reports were coming in from Boulon, the line was holding in the face of the enemy's assault, however troubling rumours had reached General Pierre Moreau about CONPROFOR being attacked by elements of the Armée Républicaine Nationale. These rumours had to be bullshit, or some kind of outrageous lie peddled by the Engells, either way these rumours would have to be investigated and disproved. Nothing could be allowed to jeopardize the People's Republic's relations with the CONPROFOR. Moreau ushered one of his adjutants in " these rumours about the BPR attacking peacekeeping forces need to squashed immediately, I'm giving you full authority to get to the bottom of this".

    +++++++
    Captain Juliette Bouchard had a job to do, find out what true, if any there was to the rumours of Burgundian troops attacking CONPROFOR personnel. First she would need to interview the survivors, from what she had managed to find out thus far the peacekeepers that had supposedly been attacked were Ostmarkien, unfortunately she had found out precious little else at this stage, going to the CONPROFOR headquarters in Boulon would be the next step, hopefully once there she could make better sense of the situation.
     
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  18. Serenierre

    Serenierre Well-Known Member

    Joined:
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    6,297
    Location:
    Karachi, Sindh
    Capital:
    Villesen
    Nick:
    GalliaBae

    Hello there guest. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!


    POLITBURO DE SERENIERRE
    Commissariat for War & Defense

    PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL
    INTERNAL REPORT
    Upon the commencement of hostilities in Bourgogne, the Serenien Military was placed on the highest levels of preparedness and the Politburo instituted the 10th Parallel Policy, which also found support from the Republic of Auraria. Over the past some time, the Military has been establishing control over these regions with a view to utilizing them as staging posts for the advance operations which were contemplated by the General Headquarters (GHQ).

    DEFENSIVE POSTURE
    Upon the issuance of the ultimatum by the République Séraziniste, all non-military civilian systems were unconnected from the global communications network and the airspace across the country was cleared at the order of Defense Commissar Hervé Bettancourt. Keeping in mind the lessons learnt from the Seven Days War, the defense establishment has taken excessive steps to close any potential weak areas which could hamper the defensive capability of the country and have further strengthened the security systems concerning our digital framework.

    The technological blackout has also further been supported militarily. Across the 10th Parallel Zone, established by the Serenien and Aurarian navies, the Serenien navy has utilized its AWACs and electronic warfare ships to seal off the western coast of Gallia from any potential Engellexic naval offensive. The naval assets are supported by ground based assets, as well. The 10th Parallel Zone is the responsibility of the Western Fleet's 6th and 22nd Flotillas, which have been deemed to be more than sufficient for the defensive operations so established. Several of our mineships were also sent out in advance at the issuance of the ultimatum to lay more mines in the territorial waters of Serenierre.

    OPERATION 32 - Immediate conduct upon expiry of ultimatum
    Upon the negation of the terms outlined in the Ultimatum, the Serenien Air Force and the Naval Aviation Corps embarked on a raid utilizing 300 strike fighters, which would fly at the lowest altitudes possible to evade detection and were under strict orders to not use active radar until necessary to engage the enemy. As soon as the air forces had reached within a designated range from the southern island of Engellexic territory, the specially fitted electronic warfare fighter jets (which were part of the raid as support) would switch on their radar jamming equipment and countermeasures to suppress enemy air defenses when the main strike fighters reached the combat zone.

    The initial aerial raid, which targets facilities identified by Satellite reconnaissance as "Grade A" facilities, such as SAM sites, radar facilities, air bases, and naval bases (and/or ships), is designed to be a very fast strike and more brutal than the strikes conducted in Occitania last year. As soon as the critical hits are conducted, the aircraft returned to forward bases in western Serenierre. In quick succession, 85 strategic jet bombers, accompanied by an assortment of AWACs and strike fighters would emerge on the battle zone, which are targeting sites identified as "Grade B" facilities viz. power plants, dams, railway and transport connections, and ports.

    The strike fighters would now be in a cyclical system of making systemic sorties against targets. Now, the 300 strike fighters and 85 jet bombers would conduct raids in a continuous stream of 150 to 200 planes to each wave. Anything and everything which could have helped the Engellexic military was targeted.

    After the initial strike, with the element of surprise now gone, the 45 submarines belonging to the Serenien Navy would embark on a highly disruptive strike on enemy maritime supply vessels headed to the Engellsea. The submarine contingent had full authority to sink any vessel headed to the Engellsea flying the banners of the constituent nations of the Domain. The entire Western Fleet of the Serenien Navy is now active, as well, across the 10th Parallel and immediate areas in the North Thaumantic. The ships are to ensure no engagement with the numerically superior Engell navies, but to engage in campaigns of deception and stealth.

    OPERATION FORTUNA - Burgundian Frontier
    The Serenien Army commenced a ground deployment into the territory of Bourgogne. The II Corps and the IV Corps, both strike corps, that had originally been designed for a cataclysmic war between the Grand Duchy and the Serazinist Republic now finds itself entering territory it had been designed to fight in.
     
  19. Ostmark

    Ostmark Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Nov 18, 2018
    Messages:
    335
    Capital:
    Wien
    Nick:
    The Wise Leader
    ONE HOUR AFTER THE EVENTS IN BOULON..
    CONPROFOR OSTMARK CAMP, 20KMs FAR FROM THE FRONTLINES...

    Humanitarian efforts in the area around the CONPROFOR camp, far enough from the frontlines, proceeded as expected and were already showing tangible results in terms of relation with local authorities and the population. The Ostmarkians were building a reputation of caretakers of peace and caregivers of the sick and the elders. The camp kitchen served hundreds of meals everyday, while doctors and nurses of the Ostmarkian Red Cross assisted those who walked to the camp in search of medicines and medical care. The two ambulances of the Ostmarkian Red Cross were closely working with local healthcare facilities to efficiently provide medical rescue in the nearby towns, while municipal authorities cooperated in transparency with the CONPROFOR contingent. The Ostmarkians were there to help, and this is the message the locals had received in the past days. By all accounts, the whole operation was to be considered an astonishing success.

    However, the peaceful and tranquil environment that had developed inside the camp and in its sorroundings, rapidly changed when a speeding vehicle was spotted in the distance by CONPROFOR soldiers on guard duty "What's that?" asked one of the guards "It is indeed a vehicle. It seems like it is coming this way, call the Captain immediatly!". The second guard ran to the command tent and informed Kapitan Bergmann of the situation. The officer ran up to the guard post and scouted the vehicle with his binoculars "It's a bus, ideed. It is a white bus." he said, holding the instrument close to his eyes "Hold on a second.. i think that's..". The Captain soon spotted the flags of the Ostmarkian Red Cross and the CONPROFOR, and it appeared the driver of the vehicle was frantically honking to drag their attentions.

    "MEIN GOTT!!! That's one of the busses dispatched to Boulon! RING THE ALARM! THERE MIGHT BE INJURED ON BOARD!!" One of the guards switched the alarm siren on and all personnel reached designated positions. The bus had finally reached the camp and stopped right in the middle, sorrounded by soldiers, medical staff. Burgundian civilians were also watching the scene but keeping a safe distance as per orders of CONPROFOR soldiers who politely asked them to stay back.

    "SANITATEEEER!" shouted Bergmann. The ostmarkian soldier sitting in the driver seat was badly injured, holding his belly with the right hand and the steering wheel with the left one. The second soldier was laying unconscious on the passenger seat, while the desperate cries of burgundian civilians in the back was haunting the hears and minds of civilian and military personnel "KAMERAD! KAMERAD ANSWER ME! Where is the rest of the convoy?? What happened to the rest of the convoy verdammt!!".

    The soldier, who appeared to be in his early 20's, let himself go in a cry to release the stress and the fear accumulated in the past hour "THEY ARE ALL DEAD! DEAD!!!!!! Mein Gott herr Kapitan they killed them all.. all the women, the children, old people, there was so much blood.. i drove as fast as i could!" Bergmann appeared visibly shaken and scared "Kamerad you have saved these people! You did a good job, we will get back to you later once you have been treated." Neither he and his subordinates had any experience with such situations. "LOS LOS LOS!!!" shouted the man in charge of the medical staff. Doctors and nurses of the Ostmarkian Red Cross rushed to the bus as fast as they could, quickly moving all the injured out of the vehicle. All survivors would be interrogated by CONPROFOR personnel with the assistance of local translators. Each one of them would provide informations that will be quickly transmitted to CONPROFOR HQs in Burgundy and, of course, to the Oberkommando of the People's Defense Force in Wien.
     
  20. Engellachia

    Engellachia Administrator

    Joined:
    Aug 16, 2007
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    Location:
    Suncoast FL
    Capital:
    Vesper
    Nick:
    Nilshanks
    Outskirts of Boulon

    Most of the mercenaries were laughing as they lit up Burgundian cigarettes and tended to their rifles, wiping the eastern gems in and out ever so tenderly. "Do you like her?" a masked mercenary jested, stroking the wooden furniture of his foreign rifle. Ted McBride, a Sylvanian born mercenary stared back at him angrily, "Leave me the fuck alone, bud!" he barked, tearing his mask off in a secluded meadow the group had chosen to park in civilian vehicles.

    "Don't talk to Stasi that way, you Sylvanian pedophile, she's killed 20 Marks and Burgers" the heavily accented Eisgartmen* slurred, "How many did that little girl of yours kill, oh Teddy boy, I bet you haven't even given her a name yet that dirty whore!"

    McBride was on his feet and ready to fight, but the change in blood pressure added to the toxic pit in his stomach and he almost immediately keeled over to vomit. Cheers floated up, the Eisgartmen were clapping and whistling as the offending Eisgartman kicked McBride over to the ground.

    “What’s wrong McBride,” the Eisgartman said, “you don’t think those were people, do you?”. Teddy’s eyes widened as he gagged and struggled to spit the acid from his mouth, “They’ll raze us for this, like Ouister but a thousand times worse!” McBride squealed before being kicked every which way by his Eisgartmen captors. “They’ll never know, we drove their cars, shot with their rifles and wore their uniforms. Only a little squealing little piggy like you can give us up!” the masked mercenary swore. “It’s fucking sick” McBride groaned back through sour blood, “They will know us by our deeds!”.

    The Eisgartmen, Engellachian atheists to a man, howled in laughter again. “Teach ya a turn of phrase in Sylvanian Christ Church, did they?” the same masked mercenary slurred through his mask. He was putting his rifle back together, loading the magazine with one bullet, and dangling the muzzle down to Teddy McBride’s head. “Do you like sports, Sylvanian?”.

    “Fuck you!” Teddy replied. The Eisgartmen coughed then spat on his mercenary co-worker with a snotty slime. “CHARLEROI!” Teddy screamed, pulling the trigger of his Eastern Rifle and sending a shot through the Eisgartmen’s thigh. “HER NAME IS CHARLEROI!” McBride shouted, squeezing harder and spraying bullets around him at the no longer jolly mercenary band. Of fourteen, he ran out of bullets to fully ground two who had their rifle disassembled.

    Their eyes wide with murderous fright, one produced a knife and the other charged McBride with the rifle rod as a blunt force weapon. Teddy snatched a grenade from his dying tormentor and pulled the pin, holding the spoon in. “I said, fuck you, fuck all of you!” Teddy shouted. The Eisgartmen with the knife dropped the device and ran towards a car, while the rod wielding gentleman resumed his charge. McBride sustained two blows to the face from Kadikistani iron before releasing the spoon of his grenade and blowing the two and surviving crew within the vicinity to death.

    Dead as they were, the contents of their uniforms and equipment would describe them as Burgundians. And while the only remaining survivor drove away to the Petites-Pay neutral zone, he left behind a group of islanders who's DNA would trace them closer to Ostmark itself than Beautancus or the Engellexian Islands. Aspects of their choice in sin might give them away, but only to a discerning investigator.**

    *
    Eisgarten is the central island of the West Engell Republic, I have a fairly consistent description of them ongoing as a mercenary class originally from Ostmark but quite clearly separate now.

    **
    I'll describe some give aways as we go along that I have in mind, I was hoping maybe that we could RP investigators and an Engellachian investigator working with CONPROFOR/Ostmark and figuring it out . . then happenings.
     
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