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Major General Brady Dent was getting bored with his patrolling assignment. As the commanding officer of the 44th Incorporated Army Division that was charged with patrolling the border between Sarzonia and Chacor after the two governments came to an agreement that averted war, Dent was anxious to receive orders that would allow him to do something constructive.
He was the youngest son of former Sarzonian General Taylor Dent, until recently the closest to a genuine army hero the country had, and he was eager to make his own mark on the army. His father was remembered for helping to put down an insurgency before it happened in Communist Upper Xen, and the resulting friendship between the countries that resulted was one of the few shining moments in a moribund army.
At least that was before the Battle of Daltrey. Sarzonia suddenly had a share of heroes, including Colonel Karla A'Hearn and Major General Ron Horton. Horton received a promotion after the Panteran war, but A'Hearn was the biggest beneficiary. Her leadership of a defensive force that gave the Reavers major fits earned her a two step promotion to Colonel. She was even considered for a position as Brigadier General, but she just barely missed out on having enough experience to serve even as a one star general.
Despite the stalemate that concluded a war that was as indecisive as the War of 1812 had been, Sarzonia's cadre of army heroes increased almost exponentially. Of course, the Navy distinguished itself against one of the few navies that was much larger than its own, but the surprising effectiveness of the combined motley collection of Sarzonian regulars and Branwynian colonial milita fared remarkably well. Even their erstwhile enemies in Pantera acknowledged the fight put up by the army.
But Brady Dent wanted to make a name all his own. He rose through the ranks of the army rather quickly, even though a vacuum that came as a result of a mass exodus of soldiers and officers threatened to rip the Army apart after Parliamentary reforms. Brady's ascent was due in part to the training he received from the Praetonian army academy, but it was also due in part to the learning he did at his dad's feet. He was eager to put all those advantages to the test.
Shortly, he would get his chance.
His telephone rang and he looked outside to see where his secretary was. Remembering that she was at lunch, he picked up the phone.
"Brady Dent."
"General, good to hear from you," Lieutenant General Mike Quinn, another hero of the Army was on the phone.
"Hello sir," Dent said.
"Brady, I appreciate your attention to protocol, but I've got a doozy of an assignment for you."
"Oh?"
"We just received word that Chacor's government has broken down and there's been a mass exodus of citizens from the territories. And not just the former Disputed Territory. It seems as though they've emptied out the land considerably."
"What does that mean for us?"
"It means that we now have the opportunity to claim more land for Sarzonia."
"I've heard Ryloss has also fallen into disarray."
"Colonel Whitney's been dispatched over there to keep order. Once things get back to normal, he's heading back home. Your job will be to make sure we can claim what's left of Chacor."
"But what about the stragglers."
"I think the government is going to offer them citizenship in Sarzonia or free passage to Liverpool England or wherever they want to go. We're not going to take them prisoner."
"That's a relief," Dent said. "But how can we justify making this land grab when we've still got hostilities with Automagfreek and company?"
"General Kennedy and I are going to Praetonia as a Combat Theatre. Several fleets are going to be patrolling Haven. We'll try to convince the Praetonians and the Hogsweatians to send their troops for a major amphibious assault and defend their turf."
"I'm not sure if they'll like that idea."
"They played a major role in training us," Quinn said. "They've seen us evolve, and I'm sure they're well aware of what we did in Branwyn. Maybe that will give the Allies the major push we need to defeat Automagfreek."
"I don't know," Dent said. "I don't like the idea of trying an aggressive move whilst we're still teetering on the edge of war."
"I can understand what you're saying," Quinn said. "But recruitment has jumped dramatically and we should be getting an influx of new soldiers within a couple of weeks. If we're really in a bind, I'm sure Parliament will institute a draft."
"A draft," Dent groaned. He knew that conscripts were ill-equipped to fight wars that were far off and only peripherally about some abstract idea like defending the seas or protecting some obscure principle only the politicos gave a whit about. But Quinn pointed out that conscripts would be assigned to defend the Sarzonian homeland against an incursion. Dent knew that even conscripted soldiers would fight like hell if they were defending their homes and their livelihoods against an invasion. Particularly against a foe like Automagfreek with a reputation for going all General Sherman on a populace.
"You have your orders," Quinn said. "Besides that, we may need to put a few refugees there."
"Understood," Dent said as he hung up. He called Colonel Matt Carlton, his aide de camp.
"Matt, we've got new orders. We're going to mobilise and cross the border into Chacor."
"What?"
"You heard me. Their government has fled and there's a potential for massive unrest unless we do something. Let's roll."
Quinn swiftly walked to his situation room three doors down the hallway from his private office as Carlton called in the rest of the command staff.
This is a hell of a time to start a land grab, Carlton thought. |
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Sarzonia |
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It's all about the Navy. |
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[OOC: Way to give your character my surname as his firstname, ha ha, now that means I 'have' to post.
OOC, er, 2: Don't mind me, just throwing my weight around a bit]
"My Lord Starblayde," Lord Isaac Chisoko, Starblaydi Foreign Minister, handed the report to the leader of his nation, "the Government of Chacor has fallen, as we suspected."
"Government just couldn't be arsed, eh?"
"That's actually about the size of it, my Lord," Isaac took the seat that Tiberius gestured to and got comfortable, no sense in being uptight when you're around your friend and leader, "the government didnt have the power or the inclination to call another election, and the people didn't particularly want it either. So the government falls and Chacor effectively ceases to exist."
"Any reaction from Liverpool England?"
"Not yet, the Heartland is asleep at the moment, of course."
"Of course," Tiberius rolled his eyes at his own mistake, "anyway, what are the neighbouring nations going to do - especially Sarzonia?"
"I think the answer is obvious, my Lord."
Tiberius nodded. Isaac 'M.C.' Chisoko was right, of course, as per usual. What would any proud nation do when one on its borders fell into anarchy? What had Starblaydia itself done after the fall of Nemya and Legalese? Why, the noble thing is to give the nation-less people order and security where they had only chaos and confusion.
"So how do we stop them?" Tiberius stood up, pacing back and forth. "We can't send our troops in, or anything."
"Certainly not, my Lord," Isaac said, "what we need to do is: give ourselves some kind of moral high-ground with which to wag our fingers at the Sarzonians and get regional opinion against them
moving into Chacor."
"Get on it immediately, Isaac."
"Yes, my Lord." |
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The order to advance on Chacoran territory was a surprise, but the far bigger surprise was the efficiency with which Dent and his army followed through with their orders. With new SZ-20 Valkyrie strike fighters rocketing overhead and armoured combat vehicles rumbling on the ground, the 44th began its advance onto formerly Chacoran territory.
Dent wasn't at the forefront when an army under then-Lieutenant General Ryan Kennedy massed at the border ready to launch a massive strike on Chacor. But here he was now, preparing to launch his own advance on territory that was originally that of a northern neighbour that was at one time at least cordial. Now, the remnants of that nation would face an advance.
"Attention," Dent said into his communications device, encrypted to prevent detection from any would-be enemy. "Do not fire on civilians and do not fire unless fired upon. We are not here to take people prisoner or kill anyone." He turned his device to allow his communicade to reaach anyone in its range, then continued.
"Attention people of Chacor, we come here in peace. We are here to secure your lands from lawlessness. Upon our completion of this objective, you will have the right to petition for citizenship in Sarzonia or we will pay your way to Liverpool England or to any destination of your choice. I repeat, we come here in peace and we will treat you well." Dozens of electronics warfare aircraft zoomed overhead to amplify Dent's message in an attempt to win the hearts and minds battle should that battle need to be fought. He was determined to prevent Chacor from being a second Inkana or another Iraq.
It's either going to be the most painful operation or the easiest one, Dent thought as he watched skirmishes with local militia and advancing platoons of his own troops with a grimace. An explosion of what was unmistakably a Molotov cocktail crumpled the body of one private who was in the newly-formed Elite Rifle Company.
Almost before Dent could react to the loss, a specialist standing next to his best friend who had been felled by the Molotov cocktail raised his new S-200 battle rifle and let loose with a shot. The specialist's retaliation for the death of his friend and trenchmate set off a chain reaction of shots as the flash of fire and the crack of shot voiced the Army's displeasure as an answer to the rogue's protest. Forty millimetre grenades also flew toward those gathering protestors who chose to stand up in resistance to the Sarzonian advance.
"Goddamn it!" Dent said, angrily slamming his fist onto his desk after the skirmish died down and the army camped out late at night. "Now we've got a fecking problem on our hands." He looked at the picture of President Mike Sarzo on the wall and grimaced.
"All right Mr. President, what would you have me do?" He knew unless he got access to the Bat Phone, his question would never directly be answered, but he had to give voice to the doubt creeping into his head. That was the only way he'd get through a first day that could only be considered a failure. |
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Sarzonia |
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It's all about the Navy. |
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Posts: 577 |
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excerpt from the SCB:News channel...
We see an impossibly-lantern-jawed middle-aged man in a very expensive suit on our screens. When he speaks, his deep, fruity voice reminds us why God invented woofers. In fact he even sounds like God, something that was used in a recent episode of "Alonso's World".
"...those are our headlines, but first to our top story. Saianne?"
He glances across to his left and we see a woman who reminds us why God gave eyes to straight men and lesbians. Her suit is even more expensive, with the style to match. When she speaks, you don't need any more information as to why SCB:News' prime-time 'Ten O'Clock News' gets as many viewers as Prime-Time entertainment. Saianne (pronnounced as the colour 'Cyan') opens her perfect mouth and speaks.
"Thankyou, Javi," she says, a little pout followed by fixing her gaze on the camera means a fair proportion of the men watching her have no idea what she goes on to say, "Sarzonia's Armed Forces are finding themselves in the middle of a Public Relations-Nightmare as reports of Sarzonian Fighter Jets over Chacor, Army Tanks on its soil and confirmed reports of shootings of Chacoran civillians filter out from the Liverpool England colony.
"We can now receive a live report, via satellite phone, from our Chief Teal Continental correspondant, Will Breckon. Will?"
The classic satellite-delay kicks in, and were it not for the sound of wind on the line, we would think our connection to Will had gone.
"Yes, Saianne," Will half-yells, his voice distorted over the line, "I can confirm to you that I have seen Sarzonian Fighters with my own eyes - there's no mistaking that Silver Star and Navy Blue, even from on the ground - I have seen them flying overhead, there is a definite military presence to this border re-alignment."
"What about the repots of shooting?"
"We've heard gunfire coming from the direction of settlements that Sarzonian Armed Forces have been advancing towards, Will reports, "but as yet cannot confirm the nature of that gunfire, be it resistors or aggressive Sarzonians."
"Will Breckon in Chacor, thankyou. Starblaydia's border re-alignment to encompass the island of Aquiliana continued today..." |
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Day Two had not gone much better for Dent and his forces as an explosion from a Improvised Explosive Device ripped through an elderly Humvee, killing one soldier and wounding two others. The roadside bomb brought back visions of insurgencies past that were months and years of constant struggle for armies. He was sorely tempted to just call in a much larger army and roll through everything in his path. However, the problem was that he knew the DoD didn't consider the people of Chacor the enemy. Even the legitimate government of Chacor was viewed with little more than residual scorn after the warm war between the two countries that threatened to erupt into a full scale war the likes of which hadn't been seen since Tachbe was glassed.
All of a sudden, a newly minted first lieutenant strolled into Dent's makeshift command centre. The fact that a lieutenant would just boldly walk right into the commanding officer's tent was a major breach of command protocol under normal circumstances. However, the lieutenant who walked through those doors was special.
"Hi Uncle Bray," he said in a quiet, but determined voice.
"Oh hi, Kenny," Dent said. Just out of the new Army Academy in southern Portsmouth, Kenny Crosby was the apple of Dent's eye since his wife Alice didn't have any children. Their age difference of only 14 years meant that the two men related to each other almost as brothers, although the relationship was far more complicated than that. Brady was Kenny's godfather, his favourite uncle, and an older brother figure for the only child of his older brother Roger. So the two had a bond that was closer almost than any other family member.
"What brings you this way Kenny," Dent asked. "I don't think you came to ask for an increase in allowance. That's Rog's job," he said with a laugh. Crosby returned that laugh with one of his own. It was an easy laugh, and it easily filled the tent with a feeling that would have softened a corpse. After a moment, the twinkle in Crosby's eyes turned serious and he stood at attention.
"Sir, I have a suggestion regarding this insurgency."
"As you were lieutenant," the general replied. "According to the duty manifest, you're off duty. So am I. Let's drop ranks for a minute Ken. Now, what's your suggestion for this insurgency?"
"The problem that we've been having so far is the patrols have been in unarmoured vehicles. We haven't gotten those Soviet Bloc-built Humvee replacements, but even if we had them or our own CICVs, I don't think it would really solve the problem. What we've got to do is way more foot patrols. That's been the biggest problem the US Army faced for years. You can catch more threats that way and the insurgents don't get the psychological boost of taking out one of our expensive vehicles. And they don't give the Liberal Imperialists reason to gripe and moan."
Dent's eyes widened. He'd remembered that point in lectures given by Praetonian generals at the onset of Sarzonian army reforms, but now those same lessons were being taught in the new Army Academy?
What are they teaching these kids in basic anyway, Dent thought with a bemused expresison.
"You know Kenny, you're right. We've just been going about this operation the wrong way on the ground. But we've still been doing more hearts and minds combat than other insurgencies. Maybe that will give us an edge."
"That and we've got to help these people and show them that we can defend them from the guerillas. We've also got to help these people by letting them live some kind of normal lives. Educate them. Feed them. We've got to take the initiative from the guerillas. That's the best way we can beat these guys, especially since we don't know where the hell they are."
Dent stood up and smiled.
"Very well, lieutenant. Your suggestions will be taken into account." He abruptly strode forward and hugged his nephew. "And implemented."
Ten minutes later, Dent walked into the press briefing room and as the cameras rolled, he addressed the questions about the Starblaydi media reports.
"You've got to take those comments with a grain of salt," Dent said. "They're a bunch of autocratic bastards over there and they're going to try to say everything they can to make us look like dogs. And the worst part about it is they're going to try to slag us for sending our military into Chacor when they're sending armed forces into Aquiliana. Their attempts to pin us with negative publicity when their own efforts to poach on territory that wasn't theirs are nothing short of hypocritical.
"We are there to restore order and give Chacorans some hope where their government couldn't. If the Starblaydis can't see that, they're even more myopic than I thought." Dent fixed the camera with a steely glare as if he were daring the Starblaydis to respond to his throwing down the gauntlet. |
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"Did he just call us bastards?" Lord Ricardo Gomez had his arms folded as he watched the Sarzonian General's Press Conference.
"I think," Tiberius Starblayde said, "that he might have just called me a bastard."
"What are you gonna do about it, then?"
Tiberius only raised his eyebrows and stared at Ricardo, though the latter was too engrossed in Major-General Dent's googly-staring eyes.
"You could," Ricardo continued, "have him killed."
"Are you on crack?" Tiberius' jaw dropped. "That is the stupidist thing I've heard since Omsec was issuing statements left, right and centre."
"So what are you going to do, my Lord?"
Tiberius leaned over his paper-filled desk and picked up a piece of paper seemingly a random. A man knows his own filing system, after all. He handed it to Ricardo.
"I think this operation is the best way to go," Tiberius said, "we've planned for this situation already."
"Nice one, my Lord." |
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(OOC: Cross posted with Nationstataes forums "They plan to do" in the NS post links to this thread.)
Government House, CCL, Liverpool England
"What's this, Harry?" Harry Livingston, Minister for External Affairs of the Free Civil State, looked up at the unexpected voice.
"Marc, oh, it's just you." Marc Newells, the Free Civil State's Premier, had stepped into Livingston's office and had been quietly observing his Cabinet minister's work. "Well, for one, apparently the Sarzonians are none too happy about us beating their asses in football... and there's this message from a newly-independant nation... Eritan or summat."
"Those Sarzonians can go -explicitive removed- themselves, after what they did to Chacor and what they plan to do... send a customary reply to Eritan, then, don't keep them waiting..."
[OOC: unrelated bit removed]
"Now what about those darned Sarzonians?"
"Hang on." At this juncture, Newells' cell phone rings. "Hello. Speaking. Uh? They are? What the hell is that supposed to mean? What am I, what is my Government, supposed to do?! Go -explicitive removed- yourself, Tim."
"McCraig?" Livingston piped up. Timothy McCraig was the newly-appointed Internal Affairs for Lox Land and Former Colonies.
"Yes, how'd you..."
"Marc, you know about Chacor and the ceasing, yes?"
"Of course."
"Where do you think the Chacoran government could possibly go?"
"Well, Harry. I suppose... uh, no, Sarzonia wouldn't be good. Dammit, no wonder they had to come here. Bloody McCraig couldn't figure anything out, so looks like we've got Douglas and his cronies in the Government House hotel for now." |
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Senator in Training |
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<OOC: Chacor's been revived, but is still out of the region. I intend to bring it back in once I'm back on my more stable (and quick) Windows XP, which is right now out for servicing. In the meantime, this RP can go on but should end with Chacor coming back into its original position, regardless of whether or not Sarzonia takes SOME of it. I'm not going to mind Sarzonia eat some of Chacor's land like Chacor "did with" Sarzonia, as long as it ends with Chacor in their assigned slot...> |
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Senator in Training |
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OOC: Here's the thing. I wouldn't have done the RP if I knew you were coming back to AO and I'd rather not continue it if that's the case. Besides, then *I* can have the moral high ground to go after Starblaydia.  |
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It's all about the Navy. |
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(OOC: No, no, go ahead. It's cool, I'll just claim a new spot on the map if that's the case, or even move LE in here in place of Chacor.) |
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Chacor |
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Senator in Training |
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excerpt from the SCB:News channel...
"Welcome back to SCB:News, I'm Javi Hierro."
"And I'm Saianne DeJardon." They have to take every oppurtunity to get her on-screen, after all. "We can now go to a Special Report, just in from Henry Tanchin, our Aquilianan Correspondant."
The 'Just In' logo flashes up on our screen, before being replaced by a street scene. An Aqulianan red-and-blue flag lays crumpled in the road, the black falcon decorating it no longer proud, but faded.
"The Island of Aquiliana, no longer a proud nation of Romanic traditions, but a faded, lawless land. As much of Eastern Atlantian Oceania is falling into anarchy and government-less ruin, the question remains: 'What do we do?'
"As one of the strongest powers in the region, Starblaydia has always done its part in these things, though it's not always easy. Going back into relatively-recent history, Starblaydia has taken the lost peoples of Nemya and some of Legalese under the wings of the Golden Eagle on Starblaydia's flag. Now it is the time of the Aquilianans. As governments fall and anarchy ensues, what can the great and the good do but try to provide stability and a return to a certain quality of life?
"One way of doing it, the Starblaydi way, is with policemen and a friendly smile. Smiles like those of Officers Nate West and Katarina Di Lorenzi. Taken out of their every-day tasks patrolling the Starblaydi captial, Jhanna, these two have found themselves of the 'front line' of the international stage."
"As a Police Officer," Nate says in a voice-over while streets and peoples of Aquiliana sweep past, "my whole ethos is about Law and Order, and that's something we're bringing to the people on this Island. They were going downhill for a long time, but nothing beats the presence of a Policeman about. We're not in fatigues carrying assault rifles, either."
"Therein lies the difference between Starblaydia's definition of 'order' and that of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia." The views change to those caught on camera over in the Teal Continent. "Over in Chacor, all one can see of the Sarzonian presence are soldiers, tanks and aircraft."
"We don't use things like that." Officer Di Lorenzi says as a Police APC rumbles by, with excellent timing.
"So what was that going past?" Henry Tanchin's voice comes from behind the camera.
"That's what we call an H-Wagon," Katarina explains, "we couldn't all come over in squad cars, even squashing five cops to a car. This way we can bring in a dozen officers per vehicle, and more equipment and supplies. Besides, less vehicles and less trips is better for the environment that jet fighters and tanks, isn't it?"
"And there you have it," Henry's patriotic fervour knows no bounds at the worst of times, so even here his every word was dripping with 'yey-Starblaydia-yey' juice, "comparison of methods may leave you to believe that Chacor could be 'pacified' quickly, but Aquiliana should have a stable and ordered road for the foreseeable future. This is Henry Tanchin in Nidola, Aquiliana, for SCB:News."
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If the instigator of this thread is ignoring it, then the matter, I assume, is closed. |
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, we'll see what kind of response your 'wagging your finger' gets from me, especially with Sarzonia in an amped up for war state. 
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