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President-for-Life

Elben

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Iowa, USA
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Malat
At dawn the trucks and buses rumbled up to the border. Men in coveralls offered the guards their credentials and the formal approval provided by President-for-life Farrago. All seemed in order and the convoy was allowed forward. Onward they drove, south out of Elben into Crotobaltislavonia. Their destination had been carefully selected based on intelligence reports and geography books: a large open site a half day's walk from the border with a source of fresh water and proper drainage for the latrines.

The buses disgorged the workers, more men in coveralls. All of them wore on their arms the patch of the BSD Hospitallers, white cross on a red field, long adopted to differentiate from Elben's flag. The leaders had only to offer the vaguest orders. The workers knew what to do from long practice. Soon the most important part was up and running, power from diesel generators. Next came the field kitchen with its accompanying water purification unit. Soon the smell of hot food started to drift through the camp

The men ate in shifts; those who finished first got started on the largest tent of all, the field hospital. Some of them donned white coats, denoting their status as medical personnel, and began unpacking the medical gear. Night fell, but large lights kept the compound alight as work continued. The light also served to draw in the poor souls like moths to the flame. The security perimeter intercepted them gently and guided them to triage where they went through intake. If delousing or quarantine was needed, they went one way. If all was well otherwise, the refugee was given a temporary badge and sent to get something hot and filling into his belly.

The Elbener Brothers' CBS Field Camp #1 was in business.
 

Socialist Commonwealth

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Germany
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Svetograd
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Revy
Letter to the Trivodnian embassy in Kadikistan

Foreign friends,
in writing you I am risking my very life. But I am doing this not for myself, but for my family. I do not want to tell you too much, for fear of this letter falling into the wrong hands. Suffice to say, I am a source from within the Kadikistani military with enough access to secret documents to realize that my country is planning to invade yours. I write you, to warn you of this imminent threat and enable you to take action to prevent it.

I love my country dearly and I am proud of being Kadikistani, so this is a very difficult step for me. But realizing the danger a war would mean for close members of my own family, I have decided to take this step. Enclosed within you will find copies of secret Kadikistani documents that detail troop movements, as well as planned attack vectors. I have also managed to gain access to a document from intelligence services detailing plans for the post-war partitioning of your country and the rooting out of dissent after annexation.

Please act carefully and with wisdom upon the information and thwart the plans of my government before they lead to open war.

Sincerely,
a friend.

Letter to the Kadikistani embassy in Bourgogne

Comrades,
I am proud that finally my day has come to make a contribution to the inevitable victory of the teachings of Marx and Leninov. Within this envelope, you will find a harddrive full of secret documents I have managed to obtain from within the imperialist Bourgognean military-industrial complex. From the data it becomes apparent, that the dogs of the Grand Duke plan to strike at the free people of Crotobaltislavonia after their previous plans to install a fascist puppet have failed. The Trier Accord also seems in the process of secretely deploying troops to Trivodnia in division strength, clearly in anticipation of this war of aggression against the proletariat. The Grand Duke wishes to use planned peace talks to buy himself time to accomplish this task without threat of interference from Ivar.

I hope this information finds you safely and you will find it most useful to thwart their plans.

With socialist regards,
a fellow revolutionary

Army Intelligence Service, Socialist World Republic


"Withdraw the agents who delivered the letters. I don't want to risk any part of this going public."

General Lesley Hart had always been a careful man and, contrary to what movies may suggest, this had made him the perfect candidate for his career in the intelligence service. When President Winters had ordered him to come up with a way to pour oil into the conflict over Crotobaltislavonia, Hart had come up with the plan to anonymously deliver messages to either alliance involved in the crisis. It was simple, it was low-risk and it was unlikely to implicate the Socialist World Republic, that faraway country that had no ties or sympathy for either the Rurikgrad Pact or the Trier Accord.

The documents delivered had been carefully crafted forgeries, combined with a letter that gave the impression a whistleblower within the military apparatus of either country had been responsible for the leak - Hart had gotten the idea over the Socialist World Republics very own, very real whistleblower, responsible for making theoretical war plans against Pelasgia public. Contained within the documents was fictional data on troop deployments, military and political plans of the involved parties, that was designed to encourage their respective opponents to reinforce their own deployments and potentially consider the option of a preemptive strike. They were mixed with just enough actual intelligence information the Implarians had gathered on the prospective belligerents to make it all seem believable.

Hart wasn't sure whether it would work, but he understood President Winters reasoning: an escalation between the Trier Accord and the Rurikgrad Pact would weaken competitors of the World Republic on the international stage and furthermore had the potential to break off the Pelasgians from either party it was allied to. Whether that had any chance of occuring was beyond Harts control, however. He had done is job, there was only one thing to do.

"Call the President," he told his aide. "I want to report on our mission."
 

Bergenheim

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Anor Londo
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Midweis
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Vextra
Crotobaltoslavonian-Bergenheim Border, 1st January 2018


The Border Guards watched with increasing alarm at the hooting, honking tail-back leading along the main road into Bergenheim. The Check-point was jammed with cars, trucks, even horse-drawn wagons over-loaded with stuff. Hundreds, if not thousands of people, were now desperately trying to get into Bergenheim, the snows having cleared for a brief time.

The air was nonetheless bitterly cold, and the Guardsmen wrapped themselves thickly in their jackets and green scarves.

"Papers, Please."

They checked the mess of documents each refugee brought with them. Their orders were simple. Reject anyone not with Bergener or Gallia-Germanian citizenship.

"Please, you have to let me through, my family-"

"Rejected. Please Remove the Kadikistani. NEXT PLEASE!"

Burly guards hoisted the struggling man and threw him out of the booth. Other booths were similarly crowded, shouting and pushing as people desperately tried to get through.

A handful made a break for the fences, and the dogs began barking.

"HALT!" came the shout. Old rifles were raised to shoulders, but they hadn't fired a shot in anger in many years. Could they really shoot a refugee?

Several were intercepted or brought low, but one kept running, desperation lending strength to his legs and arms.

He made it to the first fence, and quickly began clambering it, his hands wrapped with cloth to avoid tearing on the barbed wire. He was almost over it, when a shot rang out.

From the other side of the border, emerging from their jeeps, came the camo-uniformed men of the NDF.

The green-jacketed border guards looked with alarm at the arrival of the military.

"This border will now be reinforced."

The refugee lay, writhing in the snow, blood turning black on the cold ground. Noone dared move to help him.

"Bergenheim is closed to Easterners! Keine Ausländer!" roared one of the soldiers, pushing forward past the dumbstruck Border Guards.

This was not going to play well in the papers...
 
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Polesia

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Amstov
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Norse
Presidential Palace
Amstov
Trivodnia

The confident mood that had once pervaded the Presidential Palace had long since evaporated. Raoul Farrago was firmly in place as President-for-Life, Big Brother, Dear Leader or whatever title he fancied that day, while the Kadikistanis had brutally established themselves in the capital Banja Luka, and were now spreading fast into the countryside to crush what little opposition remained.

General Alexander Radek, the alleged mastermind behind the attempted palace coup, far from being the saviour of Crotobaltislavonia, in fact offered little more than a ragtag force of a few thousand men spread along the Trivodnian border. Unable to eject Farrago and his Kadikistani backers, Radek would at best be a mere thorn in their side, easily removed with enough firepower.

Meanwhile, Burgundy, Eiffelland and Retalia had all loudly voiced their guaranteed defence of Trivodnia's sovereignty, but were surprisingly - to Amstov anyway - reticent to take action to prevent Kadikistan gaining a permanent foothold beyond the Polesian.

And now there was an anonymous letter claiming Ivar was preparing to invade the Free State. Hand delivered to the Trivodnian embassy in the Kadikistani capital, it arrived moments just before the communist state's propaganda machine announced the mobilisation of the Western Direction - essentially all of its military forces from the Kalahari Ocean to Lyric Sea. With Kadikistan now boasting a base in Crotobaltislavonia too, Trivodnia was at risk an attack on on all sides.

To Major General David Kogan, head of the Free State Intelligence Bureau's External Division, the communiqué was little more than a Kadikistani ploy to further intimidate Trivodnia. "Yet more sneaky games!" Thundered the veteran spy, shouting down anyone who took the letter seriously.

But for Oskar Zeldovich, chief of the Free State's Self-Defence Forces' Joint Intelligence Command, the plans that came with the warning were eerily familiar. The JIC's own regular wargaming all predicted similar manoeuvres by the Kadikistanis. For Zeldovich, it was a question of if, not when, they invaded. "Ivar has never accepted our existence," he mourned, knowing full well any Kadikistani invasion would be the end of Trivodnia.

As the debate raged on, President Meier Lauterpacht sat silently. If the letter was indeed true, then if the Free State was to have any chance of survival, it would have to strike first - violating its own constitution and provoking a massive retaliation that would see thousands of civilians die. If it acted now, Trivodnia could maybe live to see another day as an independent nation, but at what cost?
 
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Remuria

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The Swissman
Somewhere in Trivodnia

The first deployments of Retalian Reconaissance, Observation and Combat Control teams to Trivodnia was done under very hush-hush arrangements, through civilian flights, with personnel storing their equipment in regular luggage. Weapons were not transported, as it was agreed with the Trivodnians that they would provide for some vehicles and weaponry to allow the Retalians to "blend in" as much as possible with the local military. As much as plain olive drab fatigues with olive drab armour and olive drab gear could blend in with pretty much any military, or police, or gendarmerie, or local airsoft reenactment club. Of course, the advanced observation equipment did mean they were most likely not airsofters.

A ROCC team is small. Very small. Just six personnel, moving usually about in two all terrain vehicles. Civilian 4x4 all terrain vehicles would do, in fact. An additional spot would be required for a local liaison to deal with the natives in case any questions were asked. And also to advise the Retalians if they were observing or reconning anything that the Trivodnians would find not appropriate. After all, the Retalians were there to recon the area ahead of a possible Kadikistani invasion. So anything "out of scope" would not be considered.

The areas of interest were the borders along CBS and Kadikistan, the most likely approaches, natural bottlenecks, logical areas for combat engineers to draw up bridges across rivers, or to establish forward fortifications to consolidate the frontlines. The preliminary groundwork would be done to enable the Retalian Air Force and the Retalian Naval Air Force to intervene quickly to support the Trivodnian military, both as per provided intel, as well as per direct ground guidance by ROCC teams.

These teams would not win a war, can't do that without boots on the ground. But while the boots on the ground navigated the intricacies of Bergenheimer bureaucracy, the wings in the air would be able to cause some havoc and delaying actions.
 

Tyonic Confederacy

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USA!USA!USA!USA!
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Roxana
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Geotri
Several Nations

The operation was as standard for these people smuggle the goods and make sure any unwanted eyes did not see it being loaded onto other cargo trains. With these trains being unloaded and loaded constantly there was plenty of time to move goods from one train to the next, especially using heavy machinery. Boxes were not labeled with the Krier GmbH logo, instead using another companies logo, to not raise suspicion. Despite this the train industry is not hard to bribe, but enough money can make most people do what is asked. Border Patrol poses a different threat, with the rise of drug trafficking many countries have implemented stricter border policies. But, this has been anticipated and planned for.

By having everything in the box containing metal the metal detectors get confused and hides the inner contents, by explaining that these boxes are containing parts for machines people usually nod and move on. If they insist on checking the top of it is containing machining and below is where the weapons are.

Everything was going smoothly, until the equipment arrived to Trivodnia. During the arrangement for the sale there was a critical miscommunication that occurred, they had requested anti-air and anti-tank equipment as well, which Stern had completely missed due to the late hours. And after a few phone calls both parties agreed that MANPADS (Man Portable Air Defense Systems) and ATM's (Anti Tank Missiles) were to be provided at a discount price. He decided to contact Rathenau Militärausrüstung on a secure line to see if a deal could be made, with Krier GmbH providing part of the cost as per the agreement reached with the Trivodnians.
 

Rheinbund

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Rotterdam, Netherlands
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Fehrbellin
Rathenau Militärausrüstung headquarters
Trier, Eiffelland


Werner Rathenau, the CEO of Rathenau Militärausrüstung, answered the telephone call by Stern over the secure line. He listened to Stern's explanation, and then answered.

"Of course we can deliver MANPADS and anti-tank missiles."
"..."
"Yes, also that is fine. So we will deliver the MANPADS and the anti-tank missiles against a reduced price."
"..."
"Thank you too. It is a pleasure to me to be able to help in this situation."


TOP SECRET — STRENG GEHEIM

To: Sigrid Vogt, Archchancellor of Bergenheim
Midweis, Bergenheim

From: Matthias Graf von Seydewitz, Chancellor of Eiffelland
Trier, Eiffelland

Dear Archchancellor Vogt,

As you may be aware, tensions between Trivodnia and Kadikistan are such, that an invasion by Kadikistan is becoming a more and more realistic option. Indeed, as it is now, it is not yet a question of when Kadikistan will attack, but still a question of if Kadikistan will attack. We have to take into consideration, however, that it is not in our mutual interest that Kadikistan increases its presence in Gallo-Germania after entering it by means of intervening in Crotobaltislavonia. It is important to Gallo-Germania as a whole that Trivodnia does not become the next puppet of the Rurikgrad pact. Therefore, in the case that Trivodnia comes under attack, I would like to ask you to grant my armed forces right of passage. My request applies to both the land army and the air force, i.e. we would like to ask for access to the Bergenheimer air space for our air force, as well as access to the Bergenheimer soil for transport of ground troops.

In return, we would allow the delivery of the RRF Fallwind plane to Bergenheim, as well as other military products we currently limit to delivery to ourselves and our allies, like the Beck & Böhm SG-2 rifle, the MLSR-2 air-to-air missile and the Gepard 4 tank. We can also agree to a trade agreement.

Best regards,

Matthias Graf von Seydewitz



Navy harbours Bremen and Lübeck
Eiffelland


The new aircraft carriers ordered in Pelasgia had been delivered to Eiffelland on 2 January. Currently the Navy was preparing to take them into service. The two old carriers (one for 50 planes and one for 100 planes) would be decommissioned. The new carriers were considerably smaller than the old ones (both capable of transporting 35 planes), but in return they had their own defence systems and nuclear power plants taking care of propulsion and other energy needs on board. They also had other improvements compared with their predecessors. And of course, they were more economic to deploy.

The carrier based in Bremen was baptised "Kaiser Lothar I". The one based in Lübeck was baptised "Kaiser Lothar II".
 

Bergenheim

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Anor Londo
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Midweis
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Vextra
Code:
To:  Matthias Graf von Seydewitz, Chancellor of Eiffelland
Trier, Eiffelland
From: Sigrid Vogt, Archchancellor of Bergenheim
Midweis, Bergenheim

Dear Chancellor von Seydewitz,

As you may be aware, we are currently hosting an All-Parties peace conference to resolve the tensions between Trivodnia and Kadikistan. 

While regrettably, Trivodnia has chosen not to attend, we remain hopeful that other powers such as yourself will deign to attend, and that as such we can together make a joint statement pushing for a peaceful settlement.

As it is not yet a question of when Kadikistan will attack, but still a question of if Kadikistan will attack, we feel that it would be unwise to escalate tensions when there is still a strong chance of diplomatic resolution.  

It is important to Gallo-Germania as a whole to consider its position and the responsibility it bares to the whole world.

Therefore, in order to reduce the chance that Trivodnia might come under attack, I would like to ask you to attend our conference, and put your nation's backing behind diplomatic efforts to create an internationally recognisable compromise.

In return, we would be happy to dispatch our First Fist to Trier to discuss matters of mutual security more closely.

Best regards,

Sigrid Vogt,
on behalf of the Inner Council of the Keys for the Republic of Bergenheim
 

Rheinbund

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Fehrbellin
TOP SECRET — STRENG GEHEIM

To: Sigrid Vogt, Archchancellor of Bergenheim
Midweis, Bergenheim

From: Matthias Graf von Seydewitz, Chancellor of Eiffelland
Trier, Eiffelland

Dear Archchancellor Vogt,

We understand your reasoning, and will support your initiative. Unfortunately, I cannot attend the peace conference in Midweis myself, because the Minister for Foreign Affairs is currently in Kashtan. Priv. Doz. Dr. Norbert Schmelzer, currently working for the Katholische Universität Köln as lecturer, will attend on behalf of the Government of Eiffelland.

The First Fist will be more than welcome in Trier to discuss mutual security.

Best regards,

Matthias Graf von Seydewitz
 

Polesia

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Nov 25, 2006
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Amstov
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Norse
Near the Crotobaltislavonian border

With General Radek controlling the border with Trivodnia, handing over the weapons was easy enough, although there was an awkward conversation with the Free State Intelligence Bureau handlers over the miscommunication that meant the anti-aircraft and anti-tank missiles and launchers had yet to arrive. But the FSIB assured Radek's men they would be there soon enough. For now, they would have to deal with assault rifles, pistols and other assorted firearms. But it was made clear ammunition was limited, and the Free State would not carry on bankrolling the so called 'Home Army for the Salvation of Crotobaltislavonia' forever - not unless it saw results, such as scores of dead Kadikistanis.

The strategic calculation in Amstov was that Radek had overstated his hand and been dangerously outplayed by Raoul Farrago and his friends in Ivar. While the self-declared President-for-Life would likely eventually triumph, Trivodnia would make sure it was a costly victory.

Rumours that Elben was weaponising Crotobaltislavonian refugees, convincing them salvation lay with the exiled Queen Victoria, not General Radek, meant there was soon to be another lethal element to this tragic conflict.

Meanwhile, hundreds of refugees continued to pour into Trivodnia as well, mostly Yiddish-speaking Jews who already had friends and family in the Free State, who had fled there either from the civil war in the 50s or one of the many coups that followed.

They arrived under heavy protection from the National Watch and Border Guards - previous waves had been targeted by Slavian nationalists trying to preserve Trivodnia's delicate demographic balance. When the dust had settled over the conflict in Crotobaltislavonia, the latest arrivals would be the subject of intense political debate, as those before them had. Not welcome in their old home, not welcome in their new one either.
 
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Bergenheim

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Anor Londo
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Vextra
Crotobaltoslavonian-Bergenheim Border, 7th January 2018

In the span of a week, several "holding" camps had been set up around the once fairly minimalist border-crossing points. Teams of NDF engineers were expanding and developing the border-fences, digging ditches in the hard, frozen earth, laying out barbed wire and motion-detectors. New watch-towers with CCTV and remote-controlled search-lights were also being set up every half-mile along the border, with some difficulty.

Everything was being complicated by the weather, by the harsh mountainous and forested terrain that made up much of the border, and by a general congestion on all roads leading towards this part of Bergenheim anyway. Traffic was locked most days, due to the flow of millitary personnel in one way and approved refugees the other.

The number of refugees being allowed through had died to a trickle, however. The Border Guards found themselves reduced to the role of rubber-stampers, and the stamp they were told to use was "DENIED". Everything they thought they had fought to prevent in their pre-christmas strike had ironically come to pass anyway.

Now the NDF was effectively manning the border, or at least this part of it at anyrate. The other borders were still exclusively the domain of the Border Guards. But traffic through those borders was...minimal, at this time of year.

All eyes had turned northeastwards, towards Crotobaltislavonia. Waiting to see what would happen next.

Here at Gate 13, the camp was rapidly becoming a shanty-town, made up of abandoned vehicles, thrown up tents, and a few mobile homes. Prefab accomodation was coming, or so they'd been promised. But it might be weeks before that occurred. And the weather was getting colder again. Families huddled together, all wood this side of the border having been scoured to feed the makeshift bonfires to keep warm.

Charities were providing blankets, firewood, water and MREs. But this was no way to live. And disease was starting to spread amongst the packed together refugees, a scarce few metres away from the fortified check-point.

The refugee who had been shot here had been quietly buried, his blood cleaned away. Noone even knew his name.

They shivered, and they watched the border with fierce eyes. Dare they try again?
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Raoul Farrago sat at the head of the table. His generals were sitting on his left and right or standing to either side of a large map of Crotobaltislavonia. From the symbols and pins on the map, it was apparent Radek was being driven back and pinned against Polesian.

"General Radek has made a grave tactical error, the fool..."

"Your Excellency, the noose around Radek's neck is tightening..."

"Just this morning, the Kadiks wiped out another nest of Yid traitors..."

"Police have captured another bombmaker and he's given up a few names..."

"Radek has weapons. But a spy in his camp says the Yids are holding back AT missiles and SAMs..."

"Generalissimo, Kadikistan's final assault will begin..."

"Dear Leader, victory is at hand..."

Farrago stood when the briefing concluded. "Remind the Kadiks I want Radek captured alive and brought to me in chains. The others, kill them all."
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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Radek was on running hard though the forest towards the Polesian. Gunfire was erupting behind him as his security force and staff held off the Kadiks. Just then, the General heard a snap and he went to ground behind a tree. Trying hard to quiet his breath, he peered into the darkness and cursed. Damn Kadiks, probably have starlight scopes.

The battle behind Radek was really picking up now. Gunfire. The whistle of RPGs. And explosions. It was the final assault. Radek had no choice but to keep moving. But as soon as he stood, he was looking at a Kadik outflanker barely two meters away. Before the soldier could bring his Kalash to bare, Radek charged him and they fell to the cold earth together. The soldier immediately abandoned his automatic rifle and went for his knife. Radek went for the knife as well. As the men struggled for their lives, the General bit down on the man's face, tearing away a piece of cheek, distracting him long enough to force the blade back and into the man's chest.

Radek stood up with the automatic rifle. Looking to make sure there no other Kadiks around, the General turned back towards the Sea where a Yiddish-crewed motorboat was waiting. As he crested the last hill before hitting the beach, the sounds of the battle died away. He turned for one last look, could see fires burning, and gave his men who had sacrificed their lives a salute. Then, he moved out of sight behind the hill.

[gunshot]
 

Kadikistani Union

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2,841
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Belgium
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Ivar
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Spelev
Polesian Coast
Eastern Crotobaltislavonia

"He is getting away? What the fuck is Slavec, that incompetent piece of shit, doing out there? We had him by the balls!", General Statkadjev said while pushing the messenger aside and tossing a few document he had been studying previously. As his adjutant picked up the documents from up the ground Statkadjev turned to his staff, explosions and gunfire heard sporadically in the background. "I will have Radek as my trophy! I will deliver him personally to President Farrago even if it means scouring the entire Polesian Sea. Get me the air force, ours and the Slavonian one!", Statkadjev said with a passion as the men around him were on their toes. A old and scarred Colonel Servako was the first who dared interrupt as Statkadjev's rhetoric could have certainly wasted a few more precious minutes. "What if we find him, but are unable to seize him alive?", he asked as a veteran deserving of respect. Statkadjev knew he wasn't his unemotional self, barely sleeping the past few days as the hunt for Radek went on 24/7, in a moment of clarity he calmed down and normalized his angry face. "Then you shoot him out of the water. Farrago will understand that it is better to kill him then to let him fall into the hands of the Yids."

The communication attaché immediately gained contact with both the Kadikistani Air Force stationed in Banja Luka and the more local Crotobaltislavonian Air Force whom had an airbase nearby. As the window was rapidly closing Statkadjev would have to rely mostly on the air force of their allies due to their better proximity. The General quickly explained the situation, ordering the Kadikistani's and asking the Slavonian's to scramble all available aircraft and initiate a search for Radek's escape vessel. After the orders and requests were given another veteran staff member asked on of the most prominent questions. "Do we violate Trivodnian territory, if he has made it that far?" A silence lasted for a few nervous seconds, interrupted by another loud explosion in the background. "These men who still resist, why do they still die for this Yid coward. Trier-lover scum.", General Stratkadjev said before spitting on the ground. By doing so he had bought himself another few seconds of thinking time. He dearly wanted to say 'Fuck Trivodnia's territory', but he knew that brass wouldn't want to risk a war at this stage. "No.", the General said reluctantly, "Do not violate their airspace or waters, but don't be afraid to target and shoot right up until the border."

With the airforce scrambled Statkadjev's attention reverted to the ground. After a short briefing and commanding Statkadjev gained great confidence. "I give these last pockets of resistance two more days, at max. Encircled and running low on manpower, untrained in most of their foreign weaponry, they will not last to the end of the week.". Colonel Servako reported, "Slavec captured another 200 rebels, Comrade General, he requests...", Servako was rudely interrupted by Statkadjev who was short, but clear, "We have direct order from president Farrago himself. Only Radek is to be captured alive, kill the rest. Run them trough the local People's Tribunals, have the locals do the paperwork and execute them."
 
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Polesia

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Amstov
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Norse
Near the Crotobaltislavonian border and Polesian Sea

The uptick in aerial activity in Crotobaltislavonia was quickly noticed by the Trivodnian military, which had also been tipped off by General Alexander Radek's men about the assault on his base and plan to flee to the Free State.

With no time to waste, the Trivodnian air force scrambled a number of fighter jets to head immediately to the border and territorial waters of the Free State. Unlike the ageing propeller aircraft of the Crotobaltislavonian air force, the Trivodnian war planes were sleek, modern and bristled with high-tech weaponry. The Kadikistani aircraft departing from Banja Luka would be of a similar specification but in a way less of a threat - Amstov and Ivar had just agreed to a mutual demobilisation, and few in the Trivodnian defence and foreign policy establishment thought Kadikistan would risk throwing that away by an ill judged incursion into the Free State's airspace.

Meanwhile, a fleet of fishing boats were commandeered by Trivodnia's elite 'Kobra' special forces units - named for no other reason that it was one of the few words spelled the same in Krasnislavian and Yiddish - and headed for the escape route planned by General Radek. The Kobra teams has been deployed to the border region for quite some time now, working with Bergenheimer mercenaries the Company of the Black Hand on various different scenarios, including most daringly an assault on the Presidential Palace in Banja Luka to assassinate Raoul Farrago, the man responsible for this whole crisis.

Once they reached General Radek and his crew - and there was a big question mark over whether they ever would - whatever crappy vessel he had fled in would be sunk, with Trivodnia claiming credit for his killing. He'd then spend the rest of his days in Amstov as somewhere between a guest of honour and a prisoner, thanked by the Trivodnian government for his service, but ultimately condemned by realpolitik and his failure to dislodge Farrago from power. For his own safety, he'd have to spend the remainder of his life hidden and anonymous, as noone in Trivodnia thought that Crotobaltislavonia or Kadikistan would genuinely believe he was dead. Should Radek ever get restless or become too big a risk, there'd be a swift bullet in the head from his Free State Intelligence Bureau handler and he'd be dumped in the Polesian, where he was meant to be buried all those years ago.

Meanwhile, the Trivodnian military was gearing up to take more direct control of the Crotobaltislavonian resistance. Radek had proved a disappointing commander, even if his motives could not be faulted. Amstov was keen the rebels were not seen as a Yiddish movement, and so made special effort to reach out to Slavonian leaders as well. The Free State was confident the promise of anti-air and tank missiles would be enough to make them listen.
 
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Crotobaltislavonia

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In a clearing not far from the Polesian, The Dear Leader walked down a row of naked bodies. When Farrago reached the end, he nodded and turned away. Behind him, conscripted peasants began to toss the dead into a recently dug trench.

An adjutant appeared at The Dear Leader's side. "The Yid smugglers..."

"Who gives a shit if they were Yiddish or not," Farrago snapped. "They delivered Radek into Trivodnian hands. That's all that matters."

"Yes, Generalissmo. But surely now that Radek is gone and his staff wiped out, the rebellion is at an end?"

"The rebellion is at an end, officially. But changes to this country are coming and the killing is just beginning."

The adjutant cursed to himself at the thought of more purges. Back at the trench, gunshots started to ring out as the peasant laborers were executed, joining the Yiddish smugglers in their mass grave.
 

Elben

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Nov 1, 2006
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Location
Iowa, USA
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Malat
Word had gotten around of the field hospitals and camps of the BSD, especially as their network's footprint had grown across northern CBS. As more refugees had been processed, treated, and sent home after things had calmed down in a local district, more refugees were coming in. But they weren't local. Many of them had been going in a different direction but changed course upon learning of safe havens within CBS' border. Luckily the Farrago regime was still allowing in supplies from Elben.

At one camp, a young man sat in one of the large, heated processing tents. Speaking the local language fluently, he took names and personal information, examined papers, and listened to accounts of the atrocities that had been witnessed. Now a bearded scarecrow who looked like he'd walked half way across CBS sat down at the table.

"Name?"

"Forget my name for now. Start typing, kid. I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"Gate 13, Bergenheim border, they shot that guy down and didn't even flinch." The scarecrow dug into his knapsack and pulled out a serviceable Lerica camera. "And I've got it on film."
 

Polesia

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Nov 25, 2006
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Amstov
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Norse
Near the Crotobaltislavonian border

"Colonel Vrdoljak, welcome."

Free State Intelligence Bureau agent Uziel Gantz stood up to greet the Colonel and his bodyguards, before gesturing the men to sit opposite him. A small nod to the attendant hovering awkwardly by their side signalled for hot drinks - tea, coffee, cocoa - to be brought over, along with a mix of traditional Slavonian and Yiddish snacks.

Around them, the room was buzzing with activity. They were in one of the National Watch emergency command centres by the Crotobaltislavonian border overlooking one of the many refugee camps that had sprung up since the 'Christmas Crisis' first erupted at the tail end of last year. There was a constant stream of people coming in and out of the makeshift building: Watchmen heading off on patrol, nearby villagers to complain about the crime and mess, as well as refugees themselves begging for a better life.

Colonel Vrdoljak was smuggled into Trivodnia as one of those refugees, stripped of his combat fatigues and medals and put in the dirtied rags of a desperate civilian trying to flee the horrors of civil war. The experience had clearly grated Vrdoljak, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he eyed up agent Gantz.

"Please colonel, you are safe here," Gantz said trying to reassure the Crotobaltislavonian rebel leader. He was met with a dismissive grunt.

"Anyway," Gantz moved on, realising there was little he could do to comfort Vrdoljak, "you are here because the Free State, while publicly committed to peace, has no intention of letting the so called President-for-Life reign eternally-"

"I am here because your government betrayed General Radek and would rather arm Yid gangsters than the genuine resistance," growled Vrdoljak. The colonel had stopped fidgeting now, and had leant forward, his lips curled into a snarl, fists clenched and eyes piercing. "You provoke war in my country so your criminal friends can profit from its ruin. I am here to tell you, even if you kill me for it, I won't accept the Big Puppet's rule, and I won't accept the rule of the Jews either."

Vrdoljak spat on the floor and cursed in Slavonian before leaning back into his chair, folding his arms.

Gantz giggled.

"You know colonel, our first President was fond of saying 'Poor Trivodnia, so far from God, so close to Kadikistan'," the agent smiled as he spoke, "I think if he was alive today, he would have added Crotobaltislavonia to the end of that sentence."

The intelligence officer stood up.

"We have no intention of ruling your shit hole country," Gantz continued, "we have enough trouble as it is. But what I do want to see colonel, is dead Kadikistanis. Lots of them. And I know you do too."

Inside Crotobaltislavonia

Since General Radek's alleged death - at the hands of Raoul Farrago or Trivodnian special forces, noone really knew - the Home Army for the Salvation of Crotobaltislavonia had splintered into rival factions. Many of the small arms smuggled into the country by Trivodnia had ended up in the hands of criminal gangs as well, who used the chaos and confusion of the coup to terrorise the innocent.

While the great conflagration predicted by many doomsayers - an epic battle between the forces of Monarchism and Communism on the plains of Crotobaltislavonia and Trivodnia - had not come to pass, in Crotobaltislavonia at least fires continued to rage, with the Kadikistani military acting as firemen.

Amstov
Free State of Trivodnia

"He's nearly awake."

A soft voice and bright light woke General Radek from his anaesthetic-induced slumber. Slowly opening his eyes, he groaned as his senses returned to him.

Since being pulled out of the freezing waters of the winter Polesian Sea, it had been a whirlwind few weeks for the now infamous Crotobaltislavonian rebel. Stashed away in a Trivodnian military base near the border, he was eventually transferred to a low budget hotel in a seedy neighbourhood on the outskirts of Amstov, under 24/7 plainclothes protection. Then one night, he received a knock at the door. "Today you get your new life, your new identity," his FSIB handler said to him cryptically.

Escorted then to Amstov General Hospital, he soon realised how. Over the years Trivodnia had emerged as a leading destination for those wanting plastic surgery on the cheap. Inside, surgeons here would craft Radek a new face, barely recognisable to the outside world.

"General Radek are you awake?"

Radek groaned some more.
 

Crotobaltislavonia

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509
Farrago stared out the window of his office at the square below. It was cooler than it was yesterday, but still warm enough that people were out and about.

"Dear Leader?"

Farrago swivelled his chair, returning his attention to General Globus. "Yes, I heard you. The rebellion continues to simmer while crime is skyrocketing." The President leaned forward on his arms. "But what about my M-L reforms? Are are the people accepting them?"

"Dear Leader, all reports indicate the proles are accepting the reforms. So far, we've been lucky with the refugee situation. Mostly of the elites who would be up-in-arms over the nationalization of their businesses fled the country during the coup. I expect them to return soon once their bank accounts run dry."

Farrago nodded as he leaned back in his chair. "Make sure they are welcomed back with open arms. Hahahahaha!"

"Yes, sir. There is one more matter we need to discuss. We still have not been able to find Radek."

"Have the Kads look into it. Whatever it takes. I want Radek alive."
 

Oneida

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Aug 9, 2012
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1,414
Location
Pennsylvania
Capital
Solis
Nick
Jurzidentia
Terminal B, Gate 3
Linz International Airport
Linz, Carinthia
February 10, 2018


“Here,” Hans called out, pointing at Terminal B in Gate 3.

“Right,” Ludwig answered, pulling his car off to the side and shutting off the engine. Before he stepped out of the truck, he zipped up his coat and slipped on his grey gloves. “Alright let’s go,” he thought to himself as he jumped out of the warm truck and into the frigid outside air. His boots slammed onto the tarmac, which was already covered with about half an inch of snow.

“It’s coming down hard,” Hans yelled to him “I can’t believe they haven’t closed yet.”

“People got places to be,” Ludwig answered, marching toward the luggage tram. He looked up to see teams spraying the wings of the airplane with non-freezing agent. The snow was coming down so harsh he could hardly see the red and green triangles on the tail, the symbol of Imperial Air – the Empire’s largest commercial airline company. Ludwig quickly turned his attention to the luggage tram. The conveyor belt had already come and was activated, positioned directly for the cargo hold of the jumbo jet.

“Hey Hans,” Ludwig called “what flight is this?”

“Imperial Air Flight A777,” Hans replied, grabbing luggage from the tram and throwing it onto the conveyor belt – paying no attention to the ‘FRAGILE’ signs “Linz to Amstov.”

“That right?” Ludwig answered, grabbing luggage himself and showing the same care as Hans “Say, isn’t that like a hour and a half tops?”

“Abouts,” Hans answered “What of it?”

“Why do they have a jumbo here?” Ludwig asked. Both men stopped and looked at each other before looking up at the plane. “It’s not about distance, maybe there’s just a lot of people flying to Amstrov?” Hans answered.

“I’ve never seen a jumbo for Linz to Amstov,” Ludwig shot back.

“I’ve never seen a million marks, don’t mean it isn’t there,” Hans answered.

“Are you being serious?” Ludwig asked “That isn’t even relevant!”

“God you’re a paranoid man,” Hans laughed at Ludwig, dismissing any concern. It was only at that moment of levity that that Hans took notice to the luggage. Every single suitcase was the same. Black and big. There were no markings other than the Linz-Amstrov sticker with the flight number. “Say, have you noticed the luggage?”

Ludwig looked down at the luggage and also noticed how uniform it was. “What in the hell?” he thought to himself.

---
Korina Gross was sitting on the benches, typing away at her laptop. She was a small, petite woman with a posture unmatched. Her blonde hair was tied tightly back into a pony tail and her glasses were an offensive, harsh, and thick black frame on her otherwise welcoming face. She took one glance at her OrangeWatchÔ and with the flick of her wrist, it lit up to read 12:06PM. She immediately darted her eyes to the gate door and everything happened like clockwork.

A woman approached the one standing at the gate security point, dressed in Imperial Air stewardess clothing. It seemed like they had a pleasant conversation before the woman pulled something out of her pocket. The stewardess gasped quietly and nodded profusely, stepping away from the stand. Once she was gone, the new stewardess set up shop. She pulled out a separate laptop that she had been carrying, along with a separate scanner. The whole ordeal only lasted two minutes and when she was done, she made eye contact with Korina.

“Good Afternoon Passengers,” she began “My name is Astrid and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to Linz International Airport for Imperial Air Flight A777, Linz to Amstov, Trivodnia. We will not begin our boarding process with our priority passengers, veterans, and differently abled peoples, Group 1 please be prepared to board following our priority passengers.”

Almost instantly, Korina stood. She grabbed her suitcase and rolled it toward the checkpoint. With her, about twenty other people stood and fell in line. Korina fell fifth in line, and she waited patiently as Astrid scanned each passenger’s boarding pass. When Korina got up to the front and presented the pass on her phone, the stewardess answered “Pleasure, Corporal” and waved for her to board the plane. As such, Korina rolled her suitcase down the tunnel and onto the jumbo jet. She rolled straight through first class – which was still empty and into the row of seats behind it. After placing her carryon in the above compartment, she sat at her window seat and promptly opened her laptop. After a moment, Corporal Jo Simen sat down next to her.

“Corporal,” she nodded to Simen – he answered “Corporal” in return.

“Is all of this really necessary?” she asked “Not to be questioning orders, but there are other ways to accomplish the mission.”

“Not really,” Simen answered “Using commercial airliners for military transportation seems to be all the rage right now. Sure, there’s a lot more involved here and the flashing of badges is sure to catch someone’s attention, but I think enough people were given enough wrong stories that our cover is fine. Except for the crew loading the luggage and spraying the wings, I don’t believe any non-military personnel were involved in putting this together. There’s seven of these flights scheduled, 400 military commandos on each – its impressive stuff.”

“You really believe that?” Korina asked, Simen nodded “So Trivodnia then?”

“Trivodnia,” Simen leaned back in his chair “What do you think of the mission?”

“Can I speak truthfully?” Korina asked, Simen nodded.

“I’d rather proudly fly in on military transports, bring in tanks, anti-air guns, heavy artillery, show the Kadikistanis that Carinthia-Harkány is not Bourgogne nor Eiffelland, so them that we will not allow them to conquer Gallo-Germania,” Korina had an uncharacteristic vigor in her speech “I want to show them that their horde is at an end.”

“Easy tiger,” Simen replied just condescendedly enough to annoy Korina “First we have to be sure that Trivodnia is even worth our time.”

The doors closed and the engines of the plane began revving up as it was taxing out of the terminal. Group 1 was preparing to deploy.
 
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