Sereno Silenzio

[Tyvia]

Tierra de Silencio​

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The heavy grind of the treads upon the soil was loud, the gentle rocking of the machine underneath him not a new sensation to the young man. The mud had dried days ago, and the pleasant morning sun was out in full regalia, shining lazily over the mass of machinery and men. Each had a Roman numeral etched onto it's side, the same one in fact – regardless of whether it was a truck, a car, a tank, or some other metallic construct. It was transcendent, the crimson red of the paint gleaming off the originally gray-steel hull in the sunlight.

'CXVI' they displayed, superimposed directly below them was a small drawing, either in a small detailed paint brush or simple chalk inscription, of a griffon. The wind brushed up against the machines as they rolled at their leisurely pace, providing the men inside some respite from the normal heat of the tank's interior. The young Lieutenant smiled, pushing the side of the handle of the hatch aside – giving a small nod of courtesy to his lessers. Emerging from the tank into the full bloom of the sun, his smile only grew, wind blowing through his black hair. Even at this speed, a meager fifty kilometer's per hour, the winds in the Coronadic east hills blew strong. Only another kilometer's to the north were the start of the mountains del Ramira themselves, a natural wall against what lay to the east of Coronado's borders. This far south though, no such defenses beyond those man-made existed.

It was no secret that the regime was paranoid. It prided itself on such, and it continued to exercise this paranoia through the use of the Army. Ever since the establishment of the Commonwealth in it's current stage, after the wars for revisionism – the Army had fortified the border. It didn't differentiate between enemies, on the continent, Coronado was alone. There were no permanent allies, none that could be depended upon. Coronado was sadly on it's own in a land of enemies and untrustworthiness. All borders were in some way fortified, minefields and barbed wire seemingly being the least that the Army managed to come up with. In this case, the natural terrain served as an adequate barrier from the Egalitarian menace, and the Army stood in reserve farther to the south and west of the actual border to receive any visitors. Yet, this was different.

This was a muster. The reserves from within central Coronado were being moved to the north-east, rapidly, either by train, plane, or under their own power. Those reserves in kind were being replaced with similar units from farther south or west, usually Ferezannic in origin. The weapons reserves that had been built-up throughout the decade found themselves being tapped into, equipping newly commissioned reservists with more modern weaponry – accompanied by more modern training to keep them at their best. Those battalions that had been understaffed or lacked in equipment suddenly found themselves becoming full divisions, with their commanders promoted a notch or two to accompany the transition. It was not entirely efficient, there were many logistical difficulties, but it was rapidly sorted out. It wasn't a mobilization by a long-shot, but it was close enough to it.

Vanguardia de la Libertad​

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Organized chaos. It had happened rather quickly, if not unexpectedly. Hundreds upon hundreds of planes flew into the sky every day, and it had been going on since the second of January, ever since the release of the news articles of Meribian nuclear detonation somewhere. The chill wind bit deeply into the exposed flesh of the grounds crews, who clustered around those planes which had just set down or those which were preparing to fly. The loud roar of the jet engines was resonant every few seconds, with the distinct sound of overflying fighters ringing serene in the distance. The radar-jockeys and other men critical to the defense and maintenance of the base were working round the clock – alternating in varying shifts, all according to the whims of the Commanders.

It was a frustrating ordeal for paper-pushers, fly-boys, and jarheads alike. All were affected by this bustle, which was kept going by the swivel-chairs down at Tempestad. It was a simple policy, a show of force, some sabre rattling. Not many of the pilots or even officers on hand believed it was an actual operation, a demonstration of the power that the Commonwealth could quickly bring to bear. Despite that, they did their jobs as best they could. The Aeronautica of the Commonwealth was a volunteer service, just as the Army and Naval forces were. Though, unlike either of the two, the Aeronautica had no reserve branch. All within it were active duty, and were obligated to serve the full term of their contract, and possibly even past that time.

In the startling roar of it all was Major-Commandante Teo Satalde, his mahogany coloured uniform being easily swept in the wind, a grimace upon his plain brown face. It had been half a day now, and the rotating schedule was hard on the men, as well it should be. Glancing down at the gold-plated watch upon his wrist, Satalde grunted softly to himself, his eyes drifting to observe a fighter drift down to land upon the tar. It's wheels touched down seemingly gently, yet a screech accompanied the descent. It veered at high speeds down the runway, easing off ever so slowly until it finally slew to a halt near the hangers. Ground crews in their orange jumpsuits bustled around the fighter, refueling it and doing a check on all the weapons and assorted systems. The pilot could be seen jumping from his plane, stretching some.

“Governaci Commandante!” A voice called out, muffled yet resolute – forcing Satalde's attention away from the scene. A younger man approached him, an officer's cap perched atop his head. He bore patrician features, a strong and gaunt jaw, with the blonde hair that was peculiarly rare for those of the Commonwealth. He stood straight up, bringing his right hand up to his temple in a salute, dauntingly fast. Satalde responded in kind, offering a momentary nod to the man, “Si, Major?” Satalde inquired, head dipping slightly to observe the lapels upon the man's chest briefly.

Raising a hand to his mouth to clear his breath, he spoke, his Conarron very concise and aristocratic. “Governaci, Tempestad has sent a communique, specifying operational parameters and orders.”

Sataldi's brow dipped a centimeter, folding sternly over his brown eyes. He turned away from the Major, glancing back over his shoulder at the flight of his jets, “Have they specified an object, or is it discretionary?” He inquired, the terms holding both an important significance. The former generally indicated that most of the sorties based from this air base, the Hernando Alberiti Air Field would be against a few specific targets. Otherwise, it would be at the Wing Commanders' discretion. His discretion. The Major gave away his answer through a flicker of a grin, “Discretionary support, governaci.”

His own mouth creasing in a similar shape, Sataldi nodded his head. “And the parameters, codici?”

“Simply support the hundred and sixteenth, governaci.” The man responded, shifting his weight from foot to foot absently, his gaze slowly drifting away from the Commandante.

“Deadline?”

“Uh, Command hasn't specified, governaci.” The Major stated, rubbing his palm against the radio at his belt, flicking the volume switch to a lower dial. “They say simply to be at hundred percent around the clock, the order'll go out simultaneously when Command is ready.”

Sataldi grunted derisively.

 

[Tyvia]

His gaze turned upwards, pale brown eyes racing to follow the fleetingly distant shapes in the heavens. Their shapes painted a dark radar-absorbent hue, the proud white griffon of Coronado was visible as painted near to the fuselage, practically no exhaust shed by the plane besides the flames of it's thrust. The massive roar of jet engines followed the shapes moments later, indicating the sheer speed at which they raced through the skies above. Though it was impossible to tell from the ground, each was armed with predominately long-ranged weaponry, the initial batch of jets followed by another round, these of a seemingly different variety. Grinning ecstatically, the man looked down to his wrist, his left arm snapping up as he noted the time. His hand flicked the goggles down over his eyes, he uttering something loudly to the man who sat beside him in the large vehicle. It was an ungainly device, lumbering and not very fast. Despite these deficiencies, the artillery piece made up for it in sheer firepower, and at least some range of mobility.

A single massive roar was audible nearly a mile around, a gargantuan mass of smoke and flames sweeping up sand and dust up from the arid topsoil. The ground and the howitzer shook, the automated mechanisms clicking into place, with the loader placing another shell into the firing tray. After only a few seconds interlude, the guns rang out once more, another barrage of steel swinging across the border. Once again this repeated, three rounds being launched from each of these artillery pieces in the course of ten seconds, shattering with their full weight and ordnance on the other side of the border. The vast majority of the artillery shells were aimed to impact against radar installations and SAM sites within the twenty five mile range limit of the guns, with other targeting apparent concentrations of opposing troops. A loud clunk echoed, almost all the guns reloading simultaneously, the mechanics within taking over, and another volley of ordnance dispatched across the frontier with meticulous glee.

The overhead sun glared down upon the gray and tan striped self-propelled artillery pieces, practically no clouds visible to the human eye – a perfect and beautiful day. The roar echoed many times more, though the grinding of treads and the furrow of wheels upon sand grew louder ever yet. Placed a half mile behind and before the actual concentrations of artillery, the majority of the mobile elements were set to proceed immediately after the first shots were fired. Their armored bulks racing through the sand and dust in some places, over desert roads, or even down from the Coronadic hillsides in others, the Commonwealth struck into Reza with a great deal of might. Any roadway into Reza was assaulted head on by armored, infantry, and air-mobile forces, the goal simply penetration as deep as possible. The helicopters flying forward into the desert terrain, the formation lead by attack helicopters, with the bulkier transport variants hovering close behind the main mass. Missiles were fired off from these choppers towards any resistance, towards any military installations, and against any buildings which were deemed as possible outposts. The rolling formations of armor and vehicles engaged what they could, attempting to diminish any resistance as swift-fully as able and press onwards. The ultimate goal of it all, was of course the actual city of Reza, located in the direct centre of the territory.

The mobile infantry swept in all alongst the southern border with Reza, with most armor concentrated in the center and northern border with the territory. On all parts of the border that weren't Reza, predominately mountainous areas, there were artillery and infantry concentrations. There was no advance made through the mountains, the idea being to hold there. In the northern sands of Reza, the armor would attempt to enclose as much of the territory as possible in a Coronadic pincer encirclement. It was doubtful it would succeed in it's entirety, but the objective was more to seize vital airfields and railroads leading towards Reza City then the actual encirclement of the entire territory. The Centre would push, in co-ordination with the southern and northern forces towards Reza City itself, the southern formations to aid them in this by consolidating control over territories acquired by Centre. The High Command anticipated intense levels of insurgency, and the neutralization of the populations of villages or small cities was in no way restricted. The objectives of these units in the short term was the acquisition of roads, urban area's, and usable airfields; along with the eradication or capture of SAM and radar sites. The long term was the entire occupation of the Reza territory, and the subsequent maintenance of stability within the territory, by any means necessary.

The tractioning of the artillery pieces silenced, the guns lowering from their arc aimed upwards at the heavens. The backwards compartments sealed, the grand rumbling of tracks and engines began with all due haste, the artillery pieces moving to follow the main formations and provide what support they could. It was an all-out offensive, and there was a support net to keep the offensive alive.

With the wind came the unitary rush of engines and the fluttering sound of the jet fighters as they rushed across the skies. Their wings loaded with primarily air to surface missiles, the initial wave was escorted in kind by a secondary wave of fighters. Of these, most were armed with air to air missile, as they held the role of protecting the batch that would deal the pain. Yet, high above it all were the true beacons of the Aeronautica. The vast radar and surveillance aircraft of the Aeronautica were the supervisors of the aerial part of the offensive, each officer within each of the ten AWAC's birds deployed over the Reza frontier responsible in part for some vital effort in the push against the Communists. The missiles of war raced in streaks through the heavens all across the frontier, their targets being either troop concentrations, yet undisabled SAM sites, radar installations – or even as yet fighters which remained on their air strips. Thermobaric and conventional cruise missiles had been dispatched moments before, their destinations being similar radar and SAM sites all across the Reza and south Meribia area – with a half dozen such missiles having been launched on the vaunted 'Fortress Nanza', at six different points which were purported to be the entrance to the 'nuclear facility' there.

There was a great deal of confidence in this endeavor, Coronado was committing heavily to this conflict.

 

[Caelia]

OOC thread k?

 

[Batavië]

Windhoek Municipal Airport
Windhoek, Windhoek Island
Batavië

The KLM Airways 747 cargo plane was finishing its loading process. The crates of food were secured in place while the pilots and engineer began to make pre-departure checks and preparations. This flight was scheduled on the airline system to be bringing case-good furniture to Meribia. Nothing that would be unusual or suspect to inspection. In reality, however, the food was intended for use by the Meribian government, in whichever capacity it saw fit and proper. Whether it was used for civilians or the soldiers, the Batavian government did not care. All they knew was that there ally was being invaded and they had a surplus of grain to send out to them.

Going by ship would allow larger payloads, but it was too risky with a blockade likely to be enacted within just a few short days. Instead, this massive plane would within hours land in Meribia, unload its cargo at a civilian airport and return home to make another run.

The plane finally lifted off into the overcast sky, soon out of sight from the air traffic control tower. In about five hours, after having crossed the Western Ocean, it would land at the international airport outside the capital city.

 

[Miroslavl]

Meribia-Coronado Border

The sudden invasion was a complete surprise to the Meribian Soviet Armed Forces, who had failed to detect the Coronadan troop deployments near it's border. The light border defenses were swept away by the overwhelming assault made by the Coronadan military, with most outposts unable to even radio in to their commanders. The two successful reports coupled with the loss of contact with the border stations prompted the regional MSAF commander for Reza to issue a low-level alert, which was only upgraded to a full condition red when the entire air defense grid along the border went offline. Radar installations in the Nanza mountains to the north and around the city of Reza itself detected the mass of incoming Coronadan missiles and aircraft, but were largely powerless to do anything about it save issue warnings to units on the ground and direct Soviet Meribian Air Force aircraft into the battle.

A squadron of MiG-21 SMAF fighters had been patrolling near the border when the attack began. Faced with the enemy's overwhelming numerical superiority, they quickly dove to low altitude and escaped east toward Reza. On the ground, a little over two hundred soldiers of the Soviet Meribian Army - mostly third- and fourth-year conscripts with outdated equipment - were quickly overrun and obliterated.

The Coronadic Army swept into the Rezan deserts largely unchallenged.


Nanza Mountains

The incoming Coronadan missiles were quickly detected by the mountaintop radar facilities of Fortress Nanza, which immediately sent word to Fortress Command and the Meribian Soviet Armed Forces' General Command Headquarters in the capital far to the east. Automated warnings were issued to MSAF personnel manning the targeted facilities, who scrambled to bring their defenses online.

The first wave of missiles struck their targets with deadly accuracy, the Meribian defenders powerless to do more than evacuate the targeted sites. Radar installations and SAM and AAA batteries in the isolated mountain areas were hit hardest, destroying the hastily-abandoned equipment there. A group of missiles targeting defenses closer to one of the surface settlements did not enjoy as much success: here Meribian defenses stiffened, a wave of flak and lead rising into the sky as the SMA's gunners and automated Centurion batteries opened fire. One missile penetrated the defenses and struck it's target, a surface-to-air missile launcher crewed by two men and a woman: another suffered a near hit from a flak cannon and veered away into a civilian apartment building, killing five. An exploding missile spread shrapnel that wounded four gunners and decapitated a fifth, and all other missiles targeted on that location was successfully shot down.

Of the second wave, only a handful of missiles hit their targets as the Meribian Soviet Armed Forces lurched to life, like a sleeping beast sensing an attacker. Fortress Nanza locked down, surface entrances sealing themselves shut. One of the Coronadan thermobaric missiles was shot down by a Centurion battery: of the remaining five, four hit sealed bunkers to little effect. The fifth, however, struck a rail line connecting the subterranean facilities of Fortress Nanza - notably the nuclear storage bunkers deep underground - with the surface railways where SMSAC rail launchers could fire their ICBMs. The missile cut the rail lines and collapsed the entrance, bottling up the armored trains tasked with carrying and launching much of Meribia's arsenal of M-3 ICBMs deep below ground.

With a single strike, Coronado had temporarily disabled a full quarter of Meribia's nuclear might.


Reza

MSAF forces in and around Reza itself hurried to take up defensive positions around the city. Reservists across Reza were swiftly called into service, though some rejected the call and fled east into the desert wilderness. Reza's small Muslim population barricaded themselves in their homes and mosques and gangs went to ground throughout the city, small-scale gun battles breaking out between the Meribian Soviet Armed Forces personnel and those Rezans unwilling to report for duty.

To the northeast of the city, the only SMAF airbase in the Rezan region scrambled it's aircraft with all due haste, the fighters and helicopters turning west to face the Coronadan assault and all other aircraft turning north to flee to the safety of Nanza. The single MiHA-50 Mainstay airborne warning and control aircraft - one of only four in the Soviet Republic - loitered over the city escorted by a flight of MiG-29s, while squadrons of SMAF aircraft ranging from almost seventy pilots in MiG-21s to a squadron of MiG-25s to a single pair of MiG-37 aces, all screaming west to face the enemy...


Skies over Reza

"All pilots, this is Overlord. Be advised, large number of incoming Coronadan aircraft approaching from the west. Intercept and destroy as many as you can. Reinforcements are presently en route from Fortress Nanza."

The voice of the Mainstay's operator droned in Lieutenant Alisa Suvorov's ears, stern but not unkind, and something about it stirred vague and half-forgotten childhood memories within her mind. A tall silhouette, standing beside her mother-

"You're slipping, Fate."

Alisa blushed as the white-and-blue MiG-37 that belonged to her superior throttled back from where it had gained a significant lead in front of her. As her own black and yellow Terminator drew alongside, Alisa turned to look at her wing leader, who gave her a concerned glance.

"Sorry, Captain. It won't happen again."

A gentle laugh. "Don't worry about it, Alisa. This is your first time in actual combat after all."

'Isn't it yours too?' Alisa blinked, then dismissed the thought. "Thank you, Captain."

"Magi Flight," came the voice of the Mainstay's operator once more, "please throttle back and fall to the rear of the formation. Black Flight will provide you with cover until you can get in range of the enemy."

"Copy that, Overlord. Devil drawing back." Magi Flight - two MiG-37 Terminators, piloted by Captain Natasha 'Devil' Lukin and herself, Lieutenant Alisa 'Fate' Suvorov - fell back as the cheaper, more numerous, more... expendable MiG-21 fighters roared forward to cover their comrades. Alisa watched her wing leader turn in her cockpit to wave at the nearest squadron of MiG-21s as they passed by. "Good hunting, Black Flight."

"Same to you Devil." a male voice returned, "Take care of yourself."

In her cockpit, Natasha Lukin smiled sadly. "You too, boys."

The MiG-21s rocketed forward to draw the enemy's fire.

 

[Tyvia]

The eruptions of ordnance and the gusting onrush of sand that had within a matter of seconds become commonplace on the Rezan frontier soon permutated into an eerie sound, singularly replaced by the grinding of machinery, whether on the part of those hulks which had been mobilized for war or those which had become necessary for the maintenance of the war effort. Farther north, where the frontier became much less defined, and terrain much less uniform, the constant impacts of shells against the hardened points of the Communists continued in an almost casual fashion. In those same mountainsides and hills, the troops of the Commonwealth stood ready, with winter having truly enveloped those lands. It was truly splendid of the changing environment which the Commonwealth possessed within itself, all the troops having been stationed in the mountainous regions and nearby to Vittorio having been equipped with winter gear. Their uniforms were a camouflaged winter hue, gray and white, their weapons only slightly different variants then those issued to those fighting in the deserts of Reza. Yet, equipping them with such varied equipment had become a logistical nightmare in the initial deployment – one which by now was sorted out.

The Commonwealth did not worry for the del Ramira mountain range, it being easy enough to defend during the winter especially. In Reza, as the combined armed forces of Coronado surged forward through the brusque desert landscape, and with them came the missile network. Vehicles rolling through the sand, only moments behind the main formation bore the mobile launchers upon them – with more portable defensive measures against air attack being issued on a squad by squad basis for the infantry. The massed stratagems of the Soviet Armed Forces were not entirely unanticipated by their Coronadic equivalents. The doctrine which relied on losing more men then they killed was an infamous one, and decidedly something that the Commonwealth had endeavored to plan for. Primary units in the invasion made good time, the border guards and patrols easily being overwhelmed by the tenacity of the Coronadic advance. They surged forward towards Reza city itself excitedly, maintaining the organized cohesion which had been drilled into them, they remaining but another twenty minutes from the city as the Soviet MiG's got into the air.

In a normal situation, where railroads and highways were readily available, the airfield in Reza would've been one of the first targets of the initial wave of missile impacts. Owing to the less then extensive infrastructure network in Reza, it had been allowed to remain active, with it being needed in the future. It was unlikely the Soviets would allow the airport to go without some futile attempt at damaging it, such was the petulant manner of the opposition.

With the obsolete mass of steel afloat in the skies, the Coronadic opposing fleet of planes throttled upwards abruptly, gaining altitude. The strike planes fired off the more long ranges of their missiles, with the arc and fuel trail making it evident that the targets were not the enemy planes, but rather the city itself. Targets had been pre-designated before the operation, with radar installations, armor and troop concentrations cited as targets of opportunity. A hail of thirty missiles whistled by the collection of MiG-21's, hurtling towards the city, with the strike fighters turning to show the Soviets their fuselage before it turned into a dogfight. The escort which had brought the bombers over were less then hesitant to fire off their loads, their own missiles interrupting the zephyr – these actually intended for the formation of MiG's. Each of these escorts, fifteen of which there were, were armed with four of these long range missiles, and another four for closer range. In the span of a minute, before turning themselves backwards in the direction of Coronadic lines, a total of thirty such steel contraptions been launched. The Commonwealth was not in the interest of losing valuable assets to massed conscripts, and it was in the mind of the Aeronautica pilot in charge to lead the massed force of MiG's directly into the SAM network of the Coronadic Army.

The heavens elsewhere in Reza became suddenly silent, lulling into a transcendent calm as only the loud swept-fluttering of helicopters became the dominant sound. The initial bombing runs were complete, with interceptors and fighters standing by at positions close to the frontier, launching as soon as the strike fighters, bombers, and their escorts returned. The artillery which had been show-cased earlier on the Rezan frontier became deployed once again, thirty miles from Reza city proper itself. These were accompanied by the Coronadic contingent proper, bearing their associated weaponry and sufficient armament to protect these precious assets. The 'Simeon Hernandez' Class of self-propelled artillery platforms wasn't an indigenous design, but it had been modified enough to bear the ammunition of the Commonwealth, and now they were being loaded rocket-assisted shells. At thirty four miles being the limit of the range, thirty was enough to accommodate immediate bombardment of the city. The same incandescent blossom of controlled flames and great eruption of sound exploded across the sands, the gun shifting downwards with each shot – they being arced such so each projectile would impact at approximately the same time as one another. In this fashion, from twenty artillery pieces, a total of sixty shells were launched in a matter of thirty seconds. Each would impact at approximately the same time somewhere within Reza proper.

In the mountains, hesitant advance begun, units trained in the near-arctic conditions slowly moving forward. It was not expected, nor should it have been any real front – with all incursions being orchestrated in the area being of an entirely cursory nature.

 

[Beautancus]

Northeastern Cassiopeia, Former Khazaria

The Juhuri Redoubt, central operations nexus for the Cassiopeian PMC, the Chorągiew Solomon (Banner of Solomon), had been a positive madhouse for two days now, a hurricane of frantic, and fiercely focused activity the likes of which had not been seen for quite a few years. Though of a certainty, the Banner of Solomon was one of the best respected, most feared, and most commonly employed of all Cassiopeian PMC's- and the largest such Khazar company, a contract of this size, importance and logistical complication was a truly rare thing.

Finalized in the early hours of Saturday morning- Eastern Cassiopeian Regional Time- this contract had quite potentially placed the men and some few women of the Banner on the forefront of the first Cassiopeian steps into the Coronadic-Meribian conflict that was now raging on the vast arid plains and hill-tops of Europe's Middle-Western continent. Though their primary objective would no doubt be in counter-insurgency and occupational-support roles, it would go a long way towards increasing the Banner's international prestige as not only one of the most respected of Cassiopeian PMC's, but of European PMC's.

Juhuri Redoubt had once been a rather important eastern regional base for the old Międzymorzan RAF, and had been "purchased" in the unsure years after the end of the Civil War that had seen Cassiopeia born "out of the ashes," and as such had a rather extensive complex of hangars, barracks, bunkers, and various other technical compounds. All of which the Banner had long put to good use.

And so it was that Commander Nehemiah Papatzys, chief "field" officer, and one of the controlling shareholders in the Banner, found himself at the center of this hurricane, perched on the catwalk overlooking one of the dozen WCTS-80's (Military Transport Plane) that would be transporting the bulk of his troops, scrutinizing the level of care that the mercs on the ground were putting into their labors. Thus far, he was satisfied with their efforts- though the ever-present scowl that locked his features into an iron mask of seeming disapproval would never let that much slip.

After checking his watch- for what was likely the sixtieth time in the last ten hours, he pulled a cigarette- ironically enough Coronadic- from the chest-pocket of his uniform, and tapped it down on the face of that watch. Lighting it with a grunt of true pleasure, he paced down the cat-walk, and back to his office, assured that their schedule would be kept, and that he, and the first shipments of...martial aid from the Most Serene Commonwealth would be underway before the evening's end.