Little Tank on the Prairie

[Clarenthia]

Middle of the Vostók Sea

The sun was shining hard against the blue water of the Vostók Sea. Captain Akaki Khorava of the NSA Mikhail Kalatozov was charged with command of the Naval Task Force and responsible for the safe travel of the convoys to Barazi. This particular convoy was carrying 1760 troops.

There was a lot of secrecy in the whole thing. Abkhaz had publically stated that 30,000 troops would be deployed to Barazi, and as of today, about 6,720 of them were actually there, and they were arriving slowly, mostly because of the peace negotiations. Now Abkhaz had ordered the convoys to begin moving, so troops would be arriving by the thousands, but the pace was still deliberately slow.

Captain Khorava had a lot of respect for Kostantine Abkhaz, he was a man who had always had a plan. However, Khorava believed that Abkhaz simply didn’t know how to run a nation that was at war. It was just simply he never had to do, it was understandable. Khorava was also concerned over the dedication of Životinje to win the war.

Another thing that concerned Captain Khorava was the dispatching of the NSA Mikhail Kalatozov, the nation’s only aircraft carrier. He wasn’t concerned about a naval confrontation; he feared the terrorists or spies in Barazi attempting to bring damage onto the pride of Akhaltsikhe’s navy.

On the NSA Mikhail Kalatozov were 12 Sukhoi Su-33, 5 Su-25, and 24 Kamov Ka-27. The Aircraft was sufficient for the mission. Regardless of getting some of the best equipment that Akhaltsikhe has to offer, Khorava was still concerned.

The last war that Akhaltsikhe had fought was in 1972, to repel Hajri Invaders. This is the first time Akhaltsikhe actually moved to declare war and send thousands of youths across the sea to combat an enemy that one month ago we had no problems with.

Barazi Sevinmek

Paolo Iashvili was a 17 year old kid. He had joined the military when he was 16 and had just recently been brought out of training and was one of the first to be deployed to Barazi. Walking through the war torn city was rough on the kid, who had never been out of the comfort of the city of Kareli.

Iashvili knew little of what was actually happening, very few did, there was a lot of confusion in Akhaltsikhe’s ranks due to the lack of information and reinforces coming from Tetri Tsqaro, but that could all be attributed to the fact the peace negotiations were held.

Iashvili would never admit it, but the failure of the peace negotiations – the failure of Executor Abkhaz – was a horrible blow to morale. People didn’t want to be in Barazi, for the most part, the troops rejected the dictatorship in Barazi. It didn’t matter though, they were soldiers, they were deployed to do their job and that’s what they were going to do.

 

[Barazi]

Sevinmek, Yapistirmak
Nihai barış

In the quarters of Sevinmek still under Barazi command, tables of loyal soldiers - proudly wearing their Milliyetci gear fully equipped and ready for deployment - sat together feeding for what may be the last bite one will take. The higher ranking officers paced around the room and spoke with the others of his status discreetly. Commander Tufan then took one knee and placed it over a wooden chair to highten himself before the crowd.

"It regrets me to inform you men, that soon we will be sending you in harms way. The Rehber has informed the nation that the peace of which may have been possible between Barazi and Životinje was crushed none other by the western imperialists themselves. With that said, all the power to you." He toasted as the men cheered after him - professing the Milliyetci salute.

During the peace summit, the troops in Sevinmek and other surrounding communities of Sevinmek as well as other larger cities towards the border such as Zirve, Keyfi, Mimeri and Guzellik had collected enough time to bring in the heay equipment which would be used for the defense and repelling of the western invaders. Battle tanks had been brought in for field operations for incoming insurgents which would, no doubt, begin any hour.

The western front was also not forgotten given the threat of an invasion from more western fighters. Due to the Örtmek Planı, artillery units and barracks with military reserve troops were placed along the Oltremare-Barazian border and were once again ready to repell.

The troops from Akhaltsikhe had so far been scattered between the western front and the Sevinmek area. Upon arrival, the Akhaltsikhians were rushed to their stations to collect weapons, ammunition and things of the sort all while being hounded by the Barazian commanders yelping things like "Kol kendinizi! Çabuk!" They didn't know what the devil they were saying, but there were designated areas where the masses could strategize together under a single language. As for the remaining arrivals, they were being brought into to Almak from the Vostok Sea where they wouyld recieve further orders.

 

[Thaumantica]

Finding the Corridor
2200
​

Darkness had finally descended on the unconquered territories of Milliyetci controlled Barazi, with the sun in hiding only a broken moon remained to center around a star accented sky. Borys Wiśniewski, an Őrmester in the Union Army Pathfinder Detachment, stalked the night with a veterans ease.

"Muckduck X-Ray, Muckduck X-Ray, this is Dark Goat actual, over" he broadcasted over a compounded military radio, inwardly chuckling at his ridiculous moniker, a non-imposing creature that in no way was meant to lurk in the dark. Static replied at first, radio waves orchestrating unusual cracks and pops from the unseen dimensions. "Dark Goat actual, this is Muckduck X-Ray. Proceed, over" the division level operator replied.

Glancing a once over within his area of operations, the UA-Pathfinder assured himself of his tactical opinion on this IR Flash marked landing zone. His understanding of the bigger picture was vague from his lower enlisted perspective. "Muckduck X-Ray, uploading coordinates to Division BFT time now. Notify when received, over."

"Acknowledged Dark Goat actual, message received. Over and out." the operator replied in a clearly dismissive voice, too busy to waste seconds of precious airtime in corners of the conflict zone that required little to no interaction. A Pathfinder's role is crucial, the requirements to perform it correctly strenuous, but at the end of the day, or evening, his job was to upload coordinates for the actual combative force. Őrmester Wiśniewski, the Dark Goat, took to the brush for concealment. Hours of waiting would transpire before he might be extracted.

Float like a Butterfly
0130​

Crammed with support gear, known to the civilian world as human flesh, TH-1 Prona Transport Helicopters ascended in rehearsed formations to differing heights and positions in the aerial convoy. Mechanisms of the self-sufficient Air Assault Troops prepared each others minds for their second chopper borne assault in two-weeks. Flown in the right flank was a ranking Officer, an Ezredes (O-5), Miklos Semter. His demeanor painted an accurate picture of his rank, six foot five and built like a brick house, he nearly occupied two seats in the back of the TH-1 Prona.

Beneath in the shroud of darkness, pilots of the prolific aircraft illuminated the dark fields below with infrared spotlights, visible to those equipped with night vision goggles, they quietly located their landing zones as they had around Sevinmek earlier in the conflict. Experience in these Night Operations was likely few and far, hard to find amongst even Europe's finest military forces, but Životinje's Air Troopers were looking to make a science out of it, they were writing the book.

"We are the diversion" Ezredes Semter bellowed as his personal detail offloaded from the aircraft, "At Sevinmek we were the money shot, tonight we're a support element." he said as he stepped down on to foreign soil. "Breathe it in gentlemen, the Union has designated us the second fiddle."

Several Officers stopped in their place, concerned at the Ezredez' and his off color comments. Brave confidence was what they expected from him, but a discouraging attitude was all he was exuding. "What. . ." a junior officer asked with a stutter "What are you insinuating, sir?".

"What our Troopers are thinking" replied Semter bluntly, "They know we are not the star of this show, and it's going to eat away at them until we get them back in to the fight". The Officer checked his battle rifle after moving to concealment, while the TH-1's returned to their homes in the sky.

Rattle through the Battle
0300​

Union Armor had their time to shine in the Great War, but they had wasted it with poor tactics and poorer maintenance. "Every Cavalrymen a Mechanic" became the post-war motto, effecting generation after generation of Armored Cavalry Soldiers. This cold morning they had the opportunity to reverse the notion of failure inflicted by soldiers from a decades past war.

Risks were to be taken. Air surveillance in daytime hours had indicated no significant visible road or highway blockage, an element important not only for the mornings operation, but also a sign that the Barazian defense had learned from their defeat north of Sevinmek, and had taken to Field Tactics in the open country. Armored Officers of the Union Army theorized the Barazians would soon resort to setting elaborate traps, guerilla warfare not long there after. Životinje was beginning to build upon a repertoire of fear tactics. Attacking in the night, shying away from the fight during the day by strafing and using aerial support. Unlike conventional enemy combatants, propaganda would prop the Armored Cavalry as Wraiths, night stalkers, something more then man and steel.

Their Tanks and up-armored IFVs attempted to rattle through the battle, powering over paved roads where it would allow at full speed. The Air Campaign had focused on Anti-Armor attacks with the E-11 Pulpza, and bombing raids from multirole aircraft on government districts, completely maintaining the sanctity of an open road access to Krailyet. But capturing the city was not an objective within consideration, this was a spearhead through the Barazian line to make way for Union Artillery strikes at a later date.

 

[Beautancus]

Several meters beneath Old Hrodino,
Greater Sarmatia
10:07 AM, Sarmatian Central Standard Time​

Though most of the nation suspected that the hour was close at hand, few outside of the military were prepared for the unrelenting fury that their homeland would soon unleash upon a foe mostly cowed already. The course of history was being decided today, in the most nondescript of places, in an age when it seemed that Sarmatian society was slipping back towards the grandiose.

The tiny, blocky, undecorated chamber deep beneath the hills outside of Old Hrodino was much as it had been since its construction, some forty years ago. Ceiling fans swirled the thick cigar and cigarette smoke that choked the air, and created strangely beautiful oily fields that hung suspended in the eerie light of the myriad of monitors that would have filled the chamber, were it not for the great elevated conference area in the center.

The most powerful men in the Most Serene Commonwealth, from the "All-Highest," the Most Beloved Supreme Leader, Dr. Jozef Kościałkowsky, to the now promoted and officially confirmed Generał-Dywizji Samuel Łaszcz, and most importantly in this instance- Marszałek Konstanty Rola. While every man in that conference area- some seated, or in Marszałek Rola's case standing in the conference area was surrounded by a bustle of activity as adjutants, secretaries, deputies and lieutenants swarmed around these gravity well's of temporal power.

Rola stooped before a monitor displaying the readiness level of all missile forces in the extreme southern portion of the nation. A general bombardment of ten silo-based theater ballistic missiles, designated as Perun-3's, each with a payload of roughly 800 pounds of fuel-air explosives were coming online, and would be prepared to fire within mere moment's notice in under an hour.

Their devastating impacts would be the opening volley in the general "softening" of remaining Barazi strong-points in portions of the nation as of yet not under Živ control.

Five of those missiles would be heading straight for Kraliyet, targeting key-government buildings, military installations, and the state's central media agency. The other five would be directed at high value government/military targets around the nation, sparing key civilian infrastructure sites, for now.

On the screen next to that, the status of National Air Defense Force units in the southern half of the nation was rapidly updating, with ever more satisfactory results filing down the screen. Several squadrons of Kara-16-D fighters and fighter-bombers were prepping for quick-strike operations in northern and eastern Barazi, with a heavy emphasis on decimating ground-based air defense installations- including airbases and civilian airports. After these initial target requirements had been satisfied, other major military installations (Army and Navy installations, as all Air Force targets should have been exhausted by this phase), heavily concentrated armor and infantry formations, and lastly regional power-plants, and if necessary- civilian infrastructure such as dams, roads, municipal buildings would be targeted.

The commanding officer of the 1st Powietrze Kawaleria was on the phone, doing his best to assure Rola that his gunships and hunter-killers were prepared to swarm down across the border, prepared to nullify any initial armored superiority the Barazians might have. This was one of Gosiewski's hand-picked units, and Rola had high-hopes for them in the coming days. Much of what he had planned in "Operation Jackboot" hinged upon their ability to determine the pace of the action in the first hours.

Rola handed the phone off to an adjutant, and grabbed for a half-lit cigar that had lain neglected for a few minutes now. He paused, and relit it- letting the tiny wave of euphoria roll over him. Quickly, he glanced back towards the ancient oaken table that Kościałkowsky was seated at. The Supreme Leader nodded his understanding. These would be crucial hours- and much of it was out of their hands altogether. But all of them trusted that Gosiewski would exercise his best judgment in striking across the border.

Just short of the Barazian/Sarmatian Border
12:30 PM, Sarmatian Central Standard Time​

Kapitan Jerzy Firlej, commanding officer of the 12th Company, which on down the line was a component force of the 3rd Mechanized Division, which along with the 2nd Armored Division were preparing to barrel across the Most Serene Commonwealth's southernmost frontier.

The noontide sun bore down heavily upon his neck, which already felt red and raw from the constant aggravation of the extra pack that had been added to his gear the night before. A new communications device that had just been cleared with the National War College was now dangling uncomfortably from one shoulder. He'd been told how to properly situate it, but with the flurry of activity that had been required in the past few hours, he'd scarcely had time to pause, much less worry with that.

His men were mostly squared away now, and were all gathered in, or around their Wojownik-510 (Warrior) IFV's or Łend (Saxon) light APC's- some leisurely smoking and clowning around, and some clustered about chatting nervously, or sitting in silence. Jerzy was sure that all of them would be ready when it came time to stick it in, but he knew that each of them had to come to that point in their own way. He had to, for that matter. It was impossible for him to show it though...but the rawness on his neck, and the churning in his gut were foes as bitter as any he was sure to meet in the coming days.

Finally taking the time to stop, unsling and then resecure the new pack, he was able to take a mostly unburdened breath, and tug his own cigarettes free from his flak jacket. He almost had the cigarette to his lips when the first of the jets roared over, burning down from bases in the north. That would mean that the "herculean" first blow would already have fallen, in the form of those much vaunted ballistic missiles. How much damage they had really done remained to be seen, but Jerzy had to think that it would be significant. If not, more would be falling shortly thereafter.

"Firlej." the uber-high tech satellite radio-phone slung at his hip crackled.

"Yessir." Jerzy scrambled to answer, recognizing his Pułkownik- Laski's rasp through the static.

"Turn that goddam fifteen thousand złoty toy slung around your neck on son. It ain't there just to look fucking pretty."

"Yessir."

"You'll have orders waiting there, and an updated map for our projected advance, and how soon we should run into any opposition. I would think that you'd want to know this sort of thing."

"Yessir."

Quickly following those instructions, Jerzy nearly lost control of his bowels when he realized they would be rolling out in less than ten minutes. After that, it look as if they would have an easy ride for at least three hours, when they would stop and take stock of the situation again. It was also apparent- from a "top-level" source- that the Perun's, some of them at least, had struck their intended targets, and that additional bombardments were being discussed. Joyous news...but it would remain suspect for now, until Jerzy saw confirmation of those facts himself. He'd seen videos of what fuel-air bombs were supposed to do to a target area- and it was hellacious. If anything like that had been unleashed in the south, there was probably a world of hurt to be had.

"Fuck."

Giving the last order to saddle up, Jerzy made his way to the specially assigned Dzik [translation: Boar] (Panther) CLV and did the same. He was immediately overwhelmed with the wall of information displayed on one side of the interior of the vehicle. Such was the price for the pay that his pregnant wife was quickly spending. On God knew what.

"Fuck."

 

[Beautancus]

Wiśniowiecki Cytadela
Wrocław, Greater Sarmatia
0130, Sarmatian Central Standard Time​

Chorąży Szymon Dyggvi Tarikszy, was universally recognized as the saltiest ol' Jew-Bastard in what was universally recognized as the most "hard-corps" company (Kara, or Black, Company) in the nastiest battalion (the 33rd "Horn of Jericho" Battalion) of the original 1st (Khazar) Naval Infantry Corps. Within living memory, the 1st had been the Royal Khazar Naval Infantry Division, the pride of the Khaganate's ragtag military forces, and the most decorated unit of the Great War. To this day, the 1st remained entirely Khazar, or Judaio-Kypchak- and would forever remain so.

It had always seemed strange to tax-collectors, rabbis, and even early-modern historians that young Khazar men, universally acclaimed as the best horsemen in the world, and virtually guaranteed a post within the Royal Huszars, had gone out of their way, to the freezing north to try their hand at serving as marine sharpshooters on the intrepid merchantmen, and later, royal frigates that made the daring run around the Crown of the East between the recession and expansion of the Arctic Ice Sheets.

The tradition that had been born so curiously centuries before had grown into a fiercely defended tradition that transcended political ideologies and societal shifts- and was one of the dearest things in Chorąży Tarikszy's heart. The heritage of service and dogged adherence to the rigid discipline of the Naval Infantry, alongside the pious upkeep of the faith of the Forefathers.

The flight down from Groszow, at the Naval Infantry Command aboard Obóz Mielzynski (Camp Mielzynski) had been as uncomfortable and rushed as any other "official" ride Tarikszy had take in his thirteen years in the Naval Infantry, ten of that spent as a Chorąży, the bane of the enlisted Naval Infantryman's life.

Now that he was in the shadow of the much vaunted Cytadela of Wrocław, he was at least glad to be able to stretch his legs and enjoy the generous breeze that swept down the crags from the Citadel proper. Adjusting his combat-shades, and cupping a hand over his eyes to block the rest of the glaring sun, Tariszky peered up the front-face of the edifice and honeycomb environs that had been carved directly beneath it. It was impressive enough he supposed, though certainly nothing in comparison to the ramparts of Itil, or the Great Ivory Tower of Balanjar, which had served a similar historical purpose.

Dismissing the thought as entirely unimportant, the Chorąży took a moment to glance over his men, who were in similar stages of un-assing from the seats and racks they had occupied for the ride from the tarmac. The fleet of lumbering Łoś six-wheeled AFV's that the better part of the 33rd Battalion would be using for the rest of their push to "the Line," were newer variants of the well-tested Ground Forces original, with slightly lighter, but far denser partially reactive armor that would supposedly allow for a greater range of amphibious deployment. They also had a greatly improved remote weapon system, the SWARM, with dual-mounted 12.7mm auto-cannons that could chew through just about anything that was small enough to pass unnoticed by the 33rd's light armored escort/support.

Tarikszy would have much preferred that they were taking part in an operation that allowed for faster vehicles- but he supposed that if he and rest of the 33rd were going to be have to take their time, they might as well have some protection and teeth while doing it.

It would be some time yet before they were on the move again, no matter how long it would take them to "get there" once finally underway. It was a luxury that afforded them sufficient time to eat, sleep, and reexamine the rather complex mission-statements that had been issued to them at the fire-team level.

Tarikszy smiled inwardly, remembering the advice that his own Chorąży had forced down his throat. "You're in the Naval Infantry now buck, the real deal. Those orders might look and sound complicated, but I assure you that they can be distilled to one simple point: you will destroy the enemy, and leave no question that there is no life left in the pulpy mess that you leave behind you."

The low, dull roar of a passing Kanarek-10F (Canary) drew Tarikszy's attention up again, and he noted with some satisfaction that the bomb-racks and missile-stubs were all empty. Though not officially a Naval Infantry aircraft, the premier close air-support workhorse of the National Defense Forces was easily the most beloved by his Corps. Whatever mission is had just flown was yet another success- and hopefully another reason why it would be a quick fight on "the Line."

 

[Confederal Republics]

25 Seaside Lane
Headquarters of Sandown Security Solutions
Southport-on-Sea
Canton of Southport
Commonwealth of Cornavia

On Christopher Sandown's desk laid a pair of brown-covered memorandums that had just been delivered to him: One was adorned with a seal of the Ministry of External Affairs and the other with one of his own company, both bearing markings identifying the documents as confidential.

Official documents containing business secrets for one reason or another could be made secret in Cornavia, one of the many provisions that the Commonwealth's authorities extended to its entrepreneurial classes. Whenever Sandown Security Solutions applied for clearance to operate in some foreign country, it made full use of this right: For such a company and its clients, secrecy was of the essence, and the Ministry of External Affairs memorandum was one informing that Minister Fenner had cleared Sandown's activities in Barazi.

The other had been passed from Sandown Field Services, which had been put in charge of the Barazi contract, with the first contractors who would be put in charge of training the pro-Zivotinje Barazi militia expected to be on the ground as soon as the client would clear the presence of Sandown contractors in the conflict region. While actual combat wasn't included in the provisions of the contract for Barazi, those contractors would go in armed, for it was still a conflict zone. Christopher would have preferred to use Knightsmoat for the training, which would have provided military-grade facilities with none of the disadvantages of operating in a warzone, but the client wanted Sandown contractors on the ground and that he would get.

The men selected by Sandown for the contract were all former members of the Commonwealth Armed Forces, and professional ones at that instead of the conscripts who made up the bulk of the forces. Christopher didn't know the contractors in question personally - expect for Sandown's newly appointed Officer in Charge for Barazi Colin Bates, a 41-year old veteran of the Commonwealth Rangers - but still worried as to their safety. Still, businesses never became big without taking risks, and for Christopher Barazi stood as a contract that could potentially allow Sandown access into a new, yet unrealized market.

 

[Thaumantica]

Friendly Skies

Access to the skies over Kraliyet had finally cleared for sorties of the Union Air Corps to conduct relatively safe patrols along the city perimeter, while tactical strikes honed in on Milliyetci Party Headquarters and known garrisons of the Gilusapolis (Secret Police) Paramilitary. For clear political reasons, seats of the Silahfilosu (Ground Forces) were left untouched. Under the new Union Standard Procedure (USP): the common non-politicized Barazian Soldier was to be treated like a victim, as opposed to vilified like an enemy, soon their role would immediately be re-tasked in to a peacekeeping mission when a common deal could be reached with leaders of the Silahfilosu and Hakuvvetler. To belittle the notion of utter defeat, their wartime efforts would be classified as "Noble Acts of Misguided Patriotism", eluding to Serhan Oscelik, The Rehber or Guide, who served as their Commander in Chief.

The cool blue skies seemed faintly familiar to Szebasztián Hermann, a TH-1 Pulpza pilot, as he turned to view a bulbous cloud to his aft side. Night raids had become the Union's specialty for the opening weeks, leaving pilots like Szebasztián awe inspired at what it was like to fly a mission in the afternoon. His own role was to escort ground troops along the left echelon, shifting around Kraliyet to begin a march to the seas with elements of the first cavalry. Their pace was unrelenting, as it had been since Operacija Prvival, pummeling through voids opened up by close Union Air Support.

Days of carnage reigned supreme for pilots of the TH-1, quite literally showering hundreds of rounds down upon with heavy machine guns attached to its nose, or swooping in for a hasty carpet bomb. To reach mass effectivity the warplane had to achieve great heights before diving in for a machine gun barrage, as the sheer velocity was the only thing keeping it from flying backwards.

Boots on the Ground

Already discontent with their new mission, Soldiers of the Union Army slogged in to Kraliyet cordon off Temporary Military Complexes (TMCs), intended to support 'peace keeping' operations in what was considered the most dangerous place for a Soldier in the post-war environment. Propaganda could spin it in one direction, but the fact of the matter was that Kraliyet had learned to live and breathe Milliyetci rhetoric since the early nineties, and might take several years to made to believe otherwise. The Union Army could not simply be trusted because they were the victors, or because they promised some bastardized form of democracy, their trust would have to be built upon the pillars of consistency and impartial justice.

Patrols of the cities attempted to break up looting, crime, and riots where Barazi Police could not respond. In coming here they had disassembled the order of things, removed the shroud of fear that the Milliyetci regime had threatened them with, but without an immediate restoration of order - the streets would descend in to spurts of anarchy, or worse - sprinkle the seeds of repressed communism.

As the rear had already done in Sevinmek: Flags, symbols, or any parophanelia relating to the Rehber or his 1992-2010 Government were committed to mass burning pits in the city commons and squares, then replaced with Union or Liberated Barazi images. Equipment was loaned out to citizens willing to dismantle greater monuments of the Milliyetci era, planted media reporters not too far behind.

 

[Beautancus]

Twenty-eight Miles South/Southwest of Güzellik
Occupied Barazi, Southern Operational Command FOB "Lojalność"
1300, Present Day​

There were rumors that "the powers the be" were considering just saying "fuck it," and allowing "the boys" to have their hooch. They'd just fought in, and ensured the victory of the shortest and most convincingly one-sided war in the modern era. Sure, this was supposed to be a Muslim country. They should've fought harder if they didn't want Reformed Christians drinking "będziny" (bourbon) out in their countryside.

Kapitan Jerzy Firlej approved. Scooping the bit of dip that he'd had stuffed under his bottom-lip for the last three hours out and smacked it, rather wetly, against the dusty ground by the tread of his IFV. He'd only fired his personal weapon- at a real target- four times since he'd been in this abortion of a despotate. Hell, he'd only seen Barazi gear burning five or six times- and most of that looked to have been done by Coalition fighter-bombers.

It had been a real fucking let-down. There'd been so much shit talked about the Barazian military- for some many years, that was all the bastards had played on their television...and Wielkosarmatska had gone to war with them for just a few days...and they'd fucking quit. "What a bunch of big fat pussies."

"Camp Loyalty," as it was being called was where the Big-Shits had been when the news had come in that an official armistice was to go into effect- and it was a well-enough placed spot on the map, so they'd decided to carve a big honking military base out of the wilderness there. A couple of good-sized towns speckled the hills nearby, and were proving to be more than willing to work with the generally chivalrous, and generous Sarmatian occupiers- and Guzellik was within relatively quick driving distance, and there'd pretty big supply dump had been taken out here in "the sticks"- and it had been certified as suitable for Sarmatian use.

Firlej and his Mechanized Rifle Company (the 12th) had been stuck here for the past three days, and had only been out on a real patrol once in that time. He'd seen evidence that there might have been a brief dustup between Barakhazar partisans and Milliyetci Gilusapolis some few days before the armistice- which the latter looked to have had the worst of. Just as well really, less of the bastards for Firlej to worry with policing later.

He hadn't been lucky enough to escape staff-meetings though. Those were being held religiously, and it seemed to Firlej that he was spending a good four or five hours too many listening to some FOBIT drone on each day. The Živs seemed to have a knack for designing an occupation force from scratch- and were even displaying some notion of recognizing the subtleties of Sarmatian interests in the conflict, and in Barazi. There was no telling how many times he'd heard that, asleep with his eyes open on that sinfully comfortable "liberated" divan that he got to lounge on in those meetings.

Only acceptable part of the damned things, really.

Stopping by the half-space age tent that he and his lieutenants had been provided, Firlej snagged a Góra-Rosa from the fridge by his bed and slid his various folders and packs onto the padded-cot before flopping down himself.

Almak, Southern Barazi
0610, Czerwiec (June) 11th, 2010​

It had been completely dark when the armored bulk of Kara Company of the 33rd "Horn of Jericho" Battalion of the 1st Naval Infantry Corps had loomed out of the darkness- burning ground down out of the foothills in a race against both the Baraturks- and time. This was the first operation conducted this far south of the capital- and the first time in some days that Coalition Air-Power had made its presence known in the region, in the form of a flight of Kara fighter-bombers, and then- just before the 33rd had crested the last hill, a flight of Kanarków CAS aircraft had sliced down on Almak- mercilessly hacking at the Baraturk armor and entrenched positions around the city that the Kara's hadn't hit earlier.

"Things will only go on for so long before there's a ceasefire," Chorąży Szymon Tarikszy kept telling his men. "There's still a chance for us to make it to Volgha Bay before the politicians decide to wrap this piss-poor excuse of a war up." They had been able to feel the violence of each explosion as the Kanarków had savaged the field beneath them- and had been able to see the fires burning there, between them and Almak long before they'd encountered the first evidence of Milliyetci-men still in place.

It hadn't taken long for all of them to show up though, once they'd come within range of that gauntlet of burning steel. There had apparently been quite a few APC's amongst the armor that had been hit- most of it still in the same place that it had been left after the Kara's had made their initial passes. It hadn't taken the Baraturk soldiers long to realize just what sort of weight of firepower was being thrown at them- and they had scattered, in most cases foolishly, out of their APC's. There were far too many bodies littering the space between the burning hulks- burnt, gashed, and torn by the hell of fire and tungsten that had been unleashed here.

But a lot of men- and even some IFV's and APC's had escaped that carnage intact. As said, it hadn't taken long for all of them to show up.

It was still just dark enough that the hundreds of tracer rounds that were streaking through the air lit the whole world up like New Year's Eve. The smells of gunpowder, motor oil, scorched metal and sea-salt mingled on the early morning breeze; static clicks, pops, rattles of small-arms fire vied with the muffled thuds of mortar rounds impacting in the distance, all carried on that same breeze.

Tarikszy's Łoś AFV had taken a lucky hit from what had to have been one of the last mobile Baraturk IFV's on the field, and he'd been forced out before the damned thing could go up under him. Really, it had taken quite a while, but it was a truly unsalvageable wreck. Kara Company had actually made it into Almak proper before they'd been hit then- a knot of Gilusapolis paramilitaries- some armed with RPG's- had been laying in wait in what could have been a madrassa converted into a post-office by the Milliyetci. A damned large knot of them, from all appearances.

Tarikszy had hunkered down behind the remains of a street-median, clenching his Szturmkarabin-80B tight, and doing his best to avoid the bone, and cement shattering impacts of the heavy machine-gun the "Gilusies" had mounted on the second floor of the post-office.

His PPR clicked twice, indicating that his Kapitan was "tapping" him. "Yeah Boss, watcha got?"

"I need you to pop some blue smoke right on the other side of the median Chorąży, and I mean just reach over and drop the damned thing."

"Got it Boss." Tarikszy was already popping the smoke, and gently tossing it over the top of the median. It landed square, and didn't roll an inch- much to the good Chorąży's satisfaction. He had a very good idea of why the Kapitan was having him pop smoke- and it meant that the "Gilusies" wouldn't be able to keep that volume of fire up for long.

The fire continued, steadily- chipping ever further through the other side of the median that was the only thing between Tarikszy and Sheol, and then suddenly- it cut off. Small-arms fired picked up from the direction of the post-office, but the deadly pounding of the machine-gun had simply been cut off. There were muffled foot-falls, booted foot-falls, on the other side of the median- not right on it, but approaching fast...They were sallying out, maybe they thought they'd cleared the streets directly in front of the post-office...or perhaps they were going to try and screw around with the smoke? Whatever the case, Tarikszy quickly shifted onto one knee, and jerked his SK-80 up. Sure enough, there were four of the bastards, one of them almost to him.

Tarikszy had already selected the burst-fire mode on his assault rifle, and pumped three quick rounds directly into the chest and stomach of the advancing Milliyetci irregular. Two of the remaining three hit the pavement, one even managing to squeeze a round off from whatever his AK-47-knock off was called...But the third seemed to have frozen, a few flecks of blood and viscera from his fallen comrade standing out on his ashen face. There was a look of frozen horror there- etched in every detail of his face.
Tarikszy fired, this time two successive caresses of the trigger, blowing the frozen Baraturk back- and forcing the other two to keep their heads down.

The whole exchange had only taken a few seconds- but it was enough to set Tarikszy's heart to pounding a tattoo on the inner wall of his ribcage. He almost missed the hushed roar of the Kanarek CAS-Aircraft as it swooped in low, cutting it dangerously close to Coalition positions- but instantly silencing whatever resistance that post-office would have put up.

The surge of heat was tremendous, and the change in air-pressure was almost enough to stun the seasoned Chorąży, but he knew enough to force his breathe out...and the section of median that Tarikszy was leaning against was nearly ripped free from the pavement when the half-molten engine-bloc of a burning SUV crashed into it, hurled through the air like a brick by the force of the blast.

Tarikszy was nearly knocked-out, and was sent sprawling onto the pavement- face first. But he was alive...and the post-office had been erased. A bit more hard work like that, and the entirety of Almak would be in Sarmatian hands in no time flat.

 

[Barazi]

Present Day,
Southeastern Barazi

With the Milliyetci in complete shambles and the military with no leadership, many of the ground forces as well as various others from different military and paramilitary branches put down their weapons to stop the sensless fighting against people who actually give a damn about the future of this country. However, there were still some that considered themselves to be faithful to Oscelik despite his disappearance. This could create civil disruption and full-out chaos in the bigger cities. The acting Rehber, Osman Polati, has been encouraging the faithful to "...do whatever is necessary to take as many down with us as we can." With this said, whatever equipment the Milliyetci had left was given to those who are now considered rebels in the northwest. The rebels prove to be quite noticeable as they draped the Milliyetci flag over their mouths - another sign of loyalty. Their plan had become quite simple. Victory was a long shot and they knew that. Many of their former battle comrads have turned over with the Zivs to "bring freedom" to Barazi. This was sickening to these groups as they believe Barazi belongs to the Baraturks only. To hell with the others, they thought.

With jeeps and dated battle tanks at their disposal, the insurgents would make sure to do their damnest to cut the path of both Ziv and Sarmatian troops hailing down from the north. They were fully armed with automatic weapons as well as grenades and tear gas. The old Milliyetci air force, also without a leader, now recieve direct orders from polati to prepare for an areal attack upon command. Across the south, roughly 50,000 loyalists are ready to fight and consider themselves prepared.

Present Day,
Sevinmek

Being one of the first metropolis cities in Barazi to be liberated, the people of the region have proven to be quite optimistic towards the the idea of democracy for Barazi. Some have seen democracy in the nation while others born in 1992 and onward were raised and brainwashed by the new order of the Milliyetci.

In the early hours of the day, Markhum Utyuk, a former Gilusapolis-turned-volunteer was making his way btowards the town square which was now very much occupied by Ziv forces. Men in blue as well as Barazian men in green were seen at almost every corner as a procautionary measure. Utyuk was here to help rebuild shelters that even he was forced to tear down. But Utyuk's day had taken a turn for the worsed. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time, Markhum met his demise when three jeeps carrying crates of explosives made their way into Sevinmek - two of them heading straight into the town square. The explosion was massive and unexpected in Sevinmek. The third jeep made its way to the Sevinmek Trading Co. which was a large company in Barazi with many investors that was crucial to the economy. Word of such activities stretching to Guzellik also arose when the loyalist groups heard that Barazi may return to being a secular Islamic state - something Oscelik preached heavily against.

Suicide bombings were not encouraged by Polati directly, but those who are loyal feel that it is sometimes necesary to get their point across. No matter what nationality -- Ziv, Sarmatian or Barazian -- all forces at hand would now have a new obstacle to surpass such as the attacks committed today.

 

[Thaumantica]

Post-Detonation
Independent City of Sevinmek

They woke to the sound of sporadic gunfire, by now a regular and accepted fixture of the First Infantry Division's experience in occupying the city of Sevinmek. Dávid Hofman could not see over the concertina wire in Compound Central, but he could certainly hear the movement and chirping of automobiles making their morning commute to work, if not martyrdom.

Immediately after a quick shower and shave he was sitting in the Team Commander's seat of a rumbling MRAP, radios freshly tuned to the mornings channel, relatively quiet beyond hourly radio checks. From listening in he understood that elements of Third Brigade were circling the cities edge for stragglers and dissidents of the Baraturk population, still unprepared to receive democracy. Their efforts were clearly unsuccessful though, as two perhaps three ear splitting explosions rung out from opposite sides of the city, with no earlier indication of scheduled control detonations.

He was up and out of the TCs seat before the voices of his radio acknowledged the event, summoning his platoon Sergeant and Lieutenant to prepare the squads for an impending dispatch in response.

A relaxed voice asserted itself over frequency 21140, a certain confidence that suggested a command presence of a veteran. "All Shield Elements, All Shield Elements, this is Archway Actual" the male voice began "Chariot 22 and Aleman 7, break." Hofman's Lieutenant was Aleman 7, "Check-in with this TOC in fifteen mikes, over." The Lieutenant seemed to be in another world that morning, perhaps still dwelling in thought at his experiences at the front during the invasion. Apart of the First Cavalry Division initially, the Lieutenant had been sent to the rear for a 'psychological disposition inflicted between Sevinmek and Kraliyet'.

Aleman 7, and the Aleman Platoon, were thus ordered out to conduct damage control around the cities square, where a reported two detonations had been received by Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Devices (VBIEDs). They would not go it alone, however, Union Troops were in the process of 'escorting' local national police and security forces as opposed to conducting operations alone. Where they were needed they might consider intervening, but their primary mission was to observe and advise, utilizing a loose rule of engagement.

 

[Confederal Republics]

Sandown Security Solutions Field Post Talon
Liberated Barazi

Before leaving the Armed Forces and transferring to the private sector in form of the Sandown Security Solutions, Colin Bates had been a Major in the Commonwealth Rangers, a specialist combat unit only second in expertise to the Special Tactics and Rescue Service of the Commonwealth Constabulary and to the Special Forces of the Commonwealth Armed Forces. This amount of expertise had made him one of the most experienced contractors in Sandown's rosters, and thus a natural choice for Sandown's contract in Barazi.

Chosen as the Officer in Charge for the operation by Chief Executive Officer Sandown himself, the importance of the mission for Sandown had been drilled in the head quite many times for Bates. It was the first contract in such a scale that Sandown had attained in a conflict zone, with several hundred contractors having been drafted by the company for the official mission of training and consulting friendly local forces that were being brought up by the occupiers to replace Barazi's defeated armed forces. Barazi would be a "make or break" case for the company, Christopher Sandown had said, with the company having a chance either to reinforce a position as one of Europe's premier Private Military Companies or to fail spectacularly in the process.

With the government of Zivotinje as the official client of Sandown for this operation, all Sandown field posts including Talon were located within Blue Union military compounds in Barazi cities. Talon was the center of the whole Sandown operation, and it was where Bates had chosen to place his own office, in one of the small prefab barracks that made up the inner sanctum of Field Post Talon. Though his duties included mainly liaising with upper Blue Union commanders and with Sandown's headquarters back in Cornavia, Bates wanted to be as close to the center of the action as possible.

He recognized the risks inherent to the operation: Though Sandown contractors were right now occupied with the early stages of training their first local charges, the duty of acting as consultants would include "going over the wire" to direct them in actual operations against the remnants of the insurgency in Barazi. And with the insurgents still alive and kicking, Colin Bates expected to be signing more than a few post-mortem benefit packages that Sandown granted to the next-of-kin of its contractors killed in the line of fire.