lordroel
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Post by lordroel on Feb 11, 2020 15:11:02 GMT
Another short story- this one follows a tank crew through their first engagement in mid 1980's Cold War scenario. American Regimental Cavalry expected to fight a series of section and platoon level engagements to destroy WARPAC reconnaissance elements to prevent disruption of the Corps deploying and delay the main body of Enemy forces. I've tried to model the early phases of this counter-reconnaissance fight. As always, I welcome feedback and criticism, thanks. First ShotsSomeone was jostling him as he shot the winning free throw for the Bulls in the NBA Championships, and he was so warm and comfortable wedged into the Commander’s position in his IPM1 tank, “Conan” with the heater hose shoved under his tanker’s jacket… “Sergeant Ski, Sergeant Ski, wake up!” It was Private First Class Cooper; better known among the Fourth (Tank) Platoon, C (Comanche) Troop, 1st Squadron, 2nd ACR as Welfare-Eye; who was jostling his arm in the Bavarian night. His loader and project soldier, PFC Cooper was a short, ape-armed, lazy eyed version of himself as a private, and like Skapanski, a native of Chicago. “Sergeant Ski, Blue One says they have contact audio!” Cooper’s eyes shone bright with excitement in the dimmed blue green turret lights, his stubbled, pimply face a rictus of apprehension. Sergeant First Class Skapanski swam upwards into consciousness only reluctantly as long trained instinct called him to the urgency of action. “Alright, alright Coop. When’d they call it in?” croaked Skapanski, reaching for his canteen and rubbing his eyes under the Combat Vehicle Crewman’s Helmet. It seemed like he had only fallen asleep a few minutes ago. “They called it in just now, Sergeant Ski.” Cooper said, “They sounded really calm about it, not like that time at Hohenfels when they called contact audio right before White Platoon ran right through their Alpha alpha.” Reflecting on the report, Skapanski switched his CVC from internal only to platoon net as he kicked his gunner, Sergeant Riley, in the back. “Hey Rilo, wake up, time to get hot.” Skapanski growled. SGT Riley for his part let of an “Aw F*ck” before asking “What’s up?” “Blue reports contact audio. Pick up your scan and let me know what’s out there,” Skapanski ordered. Keying the radio, he called “Blue One, this is Green Four, anything further on your contact, over”. “Green Four, we have contact audio tracks to the east, over“, a tired voice drawled. Green One was First Lieutenant Simmons, the Third (Scout) Platoon leader. The Louisiana born lieutenant was leading the half of his six Bradley platoon to which Skapanski’s two tank section was attached while Skapanski’s platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Trent led the other mixed platoon. “Roger Blue One, can you identify, over”, asked Skapanski over the radio before switching to internal. “Iwalu, you awake up there?” he asked the driver, Specialist Iwalu, a stocky Samoan. “What, huh… yeah, roger Sarn’t”, Iwalu answered. “Iwalu, I’m going to tell you to move and your fat a** better be awake. Blue has contact,” said Skapanski. “I’m awake, Sergeant, I’m awake,” answered Iwalu, any trace of sleep instantly wiped away. Awaiting an update from 1LT Simmons, Skapanski retrieved a blue lensed flashlight from a storage bin just below his cupola. Levering his fireplug build up until he was waist high in the open hatch, he waved the light in a horizontal pattern toward his right as the chill, moist night air enveloped him. Listening to the quiet clicking sound of the thermal sight, he waited until he was met by an answering blue light in a vertical pattern. “Good,” he thought. His wingman in the 43 tank, Staff Sergeant Alvarez, was alert. Reaching back into the turret, Skapanski brought a sound powered phone to his ear. “Green Three this is Green Four,” he said. “This is Green Three, I monitored all,” Alvarez answered. “Ok, Al, we’ll have Blue pass them off to us and hit them in Engagement Area Anvil. I’m thinking recon BRMs, but we don’t know yet. We’ll go FM once Blue has visual and engage from our primary positions. Afterwards we bound to alternate one,” Skapanski said over the phone. The phones were a pain, but better than exposing your formation to direction finding when you had to send a long message. “Roger that, Green Four, we’re REDCON ONE, ready to move,” answered Alvarez. Keying his CVC, Skapanski called, “Blue One, this is Green Four. Green section REDCON 1, over.” “Green Four, Blue One. Delta elements report contact audio now two BRMs moving east to west on Route Copper vicinity EA Anvil. Engage and report, over”, 1LT Simmons called over the radio. “Green Four, Ack,’ answered Skapanski, before switching to the section net, “Green section, this is Green Four, Tophat”. At this command of execution, the section began to move forward into their firing positions. “Battlecarry HEAT, Driver move up, Gunner take over,” Skapanski ordered as he ripped the wires out of the sound powered phone. With that command, Iwalu placed the transmission into drive and twisted the throttles on the T-bar, propelling the 57 ton Conan out from under its overhanging camouflage net with a whine from its turbine, creaking towards a pre-dug firing position. Riley twisted in his seat to look through the gunner’s auxiliary sight, a tube mounted by the main gun, ensuring the gun tube remained clear of the lip of the firing position by pulling back on the cadillac controls to elevate it. As Conan lurched forward, Cooper dropped into the turret, pivoting to trip a panel switch with his right knee, causing an armored door in the turret to slide open. Cooper slapped the retaining tab for a 105mm HEAT round with his gloved left hand. He caught the base of the round in his right hand, easing it into his lap, then pivoting himself to ram the steel cased M456 HEAT round across the cradle of his repositioned left hand, driving it home with his balled right hand as the gun’s automatic breech closed with a metallic “snick”. Reaching up with his left hand, he flipped the gun’s arming lever to the up position before announcing “Up” over the internal. Almost immediately after, Riley, satisfied that the gun and sight were clear of the firing position but that the hull was still protected called “Driver stop”, while switching the arming panel from Sabot to HEAT and reporting “HEAT indexed” over the internal. Iwalu shifted the transmission into neutral, engaging the tactical idle switch to maintain the engine at high RPM. Conan and its crew were ready to fight. “Rilo, pick up a scan from TRP 3 to TRP 2,” ordered Skapanski. Glancing to his left, he noticed Green Three, “Cool Hand”, had its turret scanning as well. It was too far to tell if Alvarez was up in the turret, but Skapanski was sure he was. “Green Four, Green Three. Two BRMs, TRP 1, moving west fast, over,” Alvarez’s voice carried an air of excitement over the radio. “Roger. Standby,” Skapanski replied. “You got’em, Rilo?” he asked as he dropped into the turret to look through the commander’s extension. “Identified,” Riley answered. Placing his eye to the turret Skapanski saw the green images of two sharp nosed, tracked, turreted vehicles in the thermal sight. “Riley, you take the left,” Skapanski directed as he slewed the point of impact reticle over the desired target. “Green Three, Green four, identified. You take right and we’ll take left, over.” “Roger,” Alvarez answered. With all coordination done, Skapanski issued his fire command. “Gunner, HEAT, BRM!” “Identified,” answered Riley, shifting the sight to high magnification and pressing the laser rangefinder button on top of the cadillac. The M68A1 gun bucked as its ballistic computer laid it on the most current firing solution. “Up,” answered Cooper. Skapanski keyed his CVC. Conan was ready. “Green Section, Green Four. Two BRMs, EA ANVIL. HEAT, Frontal. Fire!” No sooner did he say this than the night was pierced by two balls of fire accompanied by mighty cracks. The commanders of the two BRMs, secure until this moment in the assumption that the American cavalry had been surprised and unable to deploy this close to the border to meet their surprise attack barely registered the blooms of fire before the HEAT rounds arrived from just over a mile away, riding red tracer beams. The shaped charge jets pierced the light armor of the reconnaissance vehicles, immolating fuel, ammunition, and crew in fireballs visible to the naked eye throughout the long Franconian valley. The first shots of the war for Comanche Troop validated a rigorous schedule of gunnery and maneuver training. “Target,” called Riley, seeing his BRM flare then fly apart in the thermal image. As the dust of the muzzle blast settled through the hatch, Skapanski called “Cease fire, battlecarry sabot, pick up your scan” on the internal. Cooper’s report of “Up” and Riley’s “Sabot indexed” was lost as Skapanski listened to Green Three’s report, “Engaged and destroyed one BRM, slant one.” “Roger, move to alternate one, report when set, over,” Skapanski ordered. “Roger, Green Four, moving.” Keying the platoon net, Skapanski reported. “Blue One, this is Green Four, engaged and destroyed two BRM in EA ANVIL, my slant two, moving to alternate one, over.” “Green Four, Blue One, roger, report when set alternate one. Be advised my delta elements report two BRDMs stationary vicinity TIR E4. They halted when you engaged. Be prepared to engage if they enter EA Nail. Be advised I am calling Redleg for fires,” Simmons transmitted. “Here we go again,” thought Skapanski, reaching into his pocket for a dip of tobacco as what promised to be a long night unfolded. Nice work amir. |
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forcon
Lieutenant Commander
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Post by forcon on Feb 19, 2020 16:03:49 GMT
Comments are appreciated!
"We ought to shoot some of these fuckers for what they did." A cluster or fifty or sixty dejected POWs sat on the wet grass, under the weary gaze of the six survivors of Second Squad. Their faces were streaked with dirt and ash and they bore expressions that altered from defeat to anxiety. Beside the prisoners sat two burned out carcasses of a Russian-made artillery pieces, along with a cluster of tents and foxholes. It was a cold morning, one which followed a night of heavy rain which had left the ground a mess of thick, sludge-like mud.
"Fuck that, O'Reilly, we're supposed to be the good guys," replied Sanchez as the older man puffed on his smoke. "And you're too pussy to do it anyway." The members of Second Squad, a shadow of its former self, were sat or stood around a parked Bradley fighting vehicle that was as scratched and battered as most of the boys felt. A dense fog hung low on this pre-spring morning, adding to the inhospitable appearance of what had recently been a battlefield. For miles upon miles, the countryside had become a mess of craters and burned-out vehicles, the villages and townships burned to the ground in the midst of violence that, to the outsider, appeared as uncontrolled rage and anarchy but to the trained eye was a calculated and pre-planned dance of destruction.
Specialist Stenton, now in command, chimed in. "They're just soldiers, man. Like us." Orders were to watch the prisoners until MPs from V Corps showed up to collect then. The military police column was delayed after some incident or another, beyond Stenton’s ‘need-to-know’ that had allegedly befallen the rear-area troops, the POGs - people other than grunts - as infantry soldiers referred to them. The Specialist was in over his head, but with the squad leader having burned to death after his Bradley was hit by an anti-tank missile, and the two corporals severely injured, he'd been left with no choice but to step up to a job that was meant for someone with perhaps four or five years more experience than him. There's a lot of that going around, Stenton thought. The LT was dead, killed by shrapnel from a mortar round which had exploded right beside him while the platoon had dismounted from its vehicles to clear out a stretch of woodlands. Second Platoon, to which the squad was subordinate, was now led by its former sergeant; the company was commander by the former leader of First Platoon.
"Bunch of fuckin' baby-killers is what they are!" O'Reilly growled. "Yeah, you!" He shouted towards the huddled captives, who flinched at his every word. "Fuckin' animals. You saw what they did to that village! Flattened it! There were kids in that church, Stenton!"
It was true that the last Polish village they cleared had been nothing more than a burning ruin, barely betraying a hint of its former status. The church where many civilians, mostly women and children, had chosen to take refuge as the fighting reached them had been destroyed by an unseen explosion. Privately, Stenton suspected it was Allied artillery that had left the settlement - the name of which was a mystery to most of the boys - in such a state of devastation. It didn't make sense, after all, for the Russians to shell their own lines. That’s the fog of war, he reflected. A depressing realisation that it didn’t even matter who had killed those people in the church hit Specialist Stenton. It’s just the fog of war, he tried to remind himself.
Stenton blinked. His eyes felt unbearably heavy, as though a tremendous weight were hanging from his eyelids. Just for a moment, he allowed them to stay closed. It felt like the first time in weeks that he had rested his weary eyes. In reality, they had only been on the offensive for four days. Those four days had cost every man in the division his soul, and for several thousand it had cost them much more than just that. Lines of Bradley's and tanks, supported by murderous artillery barrages had charged headlong at the enemy defences. The vehicles clashed at long range while Stenton and the other soldiers had sat huddled together in the back of their Bradleys, listening to the sounds of the apocalyptic clash of the titans occurring outside. When their vehicles reached the first wave of entrenchments, Stenton and the rest of the squad had dismounted, emerging into the destruction from the rear doors of their Bradleys. From there they'd fought with their rifles and hand grenades, clearing out the defenders trench-by-trench and dugout-by-dugout.
Stenton remembered the kid, younger, he suspected, than his own twenty-one years, that he'd shot dead as he fled from a machinegun pit. After grenades were thrown to clear out enemy dugouts, the survivors were gunned down as they stumbled out, hands clawing at their shrapnel-pierced faces but with rifles slung round their shoulders. For three days this had continued, a bloody, relentless slog, until the 'breach' that the generals craved had finally been achieved at a horrific cost. At least for the coming week, Stenton's battalion, and rumour had it the whole 1st Cavalry Division, was relegated to duties in the rear such as guarding POWs and protecting the vital supply routes through which thousands of tonnes of fuel and ammunition were ferried to the frontline. The losses suffered while conducting the 'breakthrough’ were simply too devastating for the division to remain a fighting unit until replacements, probably draftees fresh from boot camp in Georgia, or perhaps retired soldiers called back to service, could be sent eastwards to boost its depleted ranks.
Emerging from the mist to the west, a pair of helicopters buzzed overhead. Stenton recognised them as Black Hawks - transports rather than gunships. Both aircraft bore the distinctive yellow insignia of the 1st Cavalry Division against the dark green backdrop of their airframes. Music followed the helicopters as they disappeared into the distance. Stenton recognised the drawling guitar strums of Credence Clearwater Revival. He'd heard the song before in a dozen different movies about his grandfather's war, a war of jungle heat and Vietcong ambushers hidden away in the undergrowth.
"Is that Fortunate Son?" A gawky, out-of-place teenager clad in battle-dress asked. The boy was sharing a smoke with the soldier beside him while the two of them glared at the POWs huddled on the grass.
"Man, its Vietnam music. We don't even get our own fuckin' music," Sanchez huffed. Stenton had heard the music was a ploy by the PSYOPs - psychological operations - people up at corps headquarters to confuse and terrorise the pockets of Russian troops scattered behind NATO lines until they surrendered. Judging by the occasional crackling of automatic gunfire and the deep booms of artillery in the distance, the ploy had yet to succeed. Smoke and cordite lingered in the air, a reminder that Second Squad’s battle had only yesterday come to an end, and that, for them, the war was far from over. Looking into the distance although it was shrouded in fog, Stenton knew there was a long way to go.
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stevep
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Post by stevep on Feb 19, 2020 16:16:54 GMT
Comments are appreciated! "We ought to shoot some of these fuckers for what they did." A cluster or fifty or sixty dejected POWs sat on the wet grass, under the weary gaze of the six survivors of Second Squad. Their faces were streaked with dirt and ash and they bore expressions that altered from defeat to anxiety. Beside the prisoners sat two burned out carcasses of a Russian-made artillery pieces, along with a cluster of tents and foxholes. It was a cold morning, one which followed a night of heavy rain which had left the ground a mess of thick, sludge-like mud.
"Fuck that, O'Reilly, we're supposed to be the good guys," replied Sanchez as the older man puffed on his smoke. "And you're too pussy to do it anyway." The members of Second Squad, a shadow of its former self, were sat or stood around a parked Bradley fighting vehicle that was as scratched and battered as most of the boys felt. A dense fog hung low on this pre-spring morning, adding to the inhospitable appearance of what had recently been a battlefield. For miles upon miles, the countryside had become a mess of craters and burned-out vehicles, the villages and townships burned to the ground in the midst of violence that, to the outsider, appeared as uncontrolled rage and anarchy but to the trained eye was a calculated and pre-planned dance of destruction.
Specialist Stenton, now in command, chimed in. "They're just soldiers, man. Like us." Orders were to watch the prisoners until MPs from V Corps showed up to collect then. The military police column was delayed after some incident or another, beyond Stenton’s ‘need-to-know’ that had allegedly befallen the rear-area troops, the POGs - people other than grunts - as infantry soldiers referred to them. The Specialist was in over his head, but with the squad leader having burned to death after his Bradley was hit by an anti-tank missile, and the two corporals severely injured, he'd been left with no choice but to step up to a job that was meant for someone with perhaps four or five years more experience than him. There's a lot of that going around, Stenton thought. The LT was dead, killed by shrapnel from a mortar round which had exploded right beside him while the platoon had dismounted from its vehicles to clear out a stretch of woodlands. Second Platoon, to which the squad was subordinate, was now led by its former sergeant; the company was commander by the former leader of First Platoon.
"Bunch of fuckin' baby-killers is what they are!" O'Reilly growled. "Yeah, you!" He shouted towards the huddled captives, who flinched at his every word. "Fuckin' animals. You saw what they did to that village! Flattened it! There were kids in that church, Stenton!"
It was true that the last Polish village they cleared had been nothing more than a burning ruin, barely betraying a hint of its former status. The church where many civilians, mostly women and children, had chosen to take refuge as the fighting reached them had been destroyed by an unseen explosion. Privately, Stenton suspected it was Allied artillery that had left the settlement - the name of which was a mystery to most of the boys - in such a state of devastation. It didn't make sense, after all, for the Russians to shell their own lines. That’s the fog of war, he reflected. A depressing realisation that it didn’t even matter who had killed those people in the church hit Specialist Stenton. It’s just the fog of war, he tried to remind himself.
Stenton blinked. His eyes felt unbearably heavy, as though a tremendous weight were hanging from his eyelids. Just for a moment, he allowed them to stay closed. It felt like the first time in weeks that he had rested his weary eyes. In reality, they had only been on the offensive for four days. Those four days had cost every man in the division his soul, and for several thousand it had cost them much more than just that. Lines of Bradley's and tanks, supported by murderous artillery barrages had charged headlong at the enemy defences. The vehicles clashed at long range while Stenton and the other soldiers had sat huddled together in the back of their Bradleys, listening to the sounds of the apocalyptic clash of the titans occurring outside. When their vehicles reached the first wave of entrenchments, Stenton and the rest of the squad had dismounted, emerging into the destruction from the rear doors of their Bradleys. From there they'd fought with their rifles and hand grenades, clearing out the defenders trench-by-trench and dugout-by-dugout.
Stenton remembered the kid, younger, he suspected, than his own twenty-one years, that he'd shot dead as he fled from a machinegun pit. After grenades were thrown to clear out enemy dugouts, the survivors were gunned down as they stumbled out, hands clawing at their shrapnel-pierced faces but with rifles slung round their shoulders. For three days this had continued, a bloody, relentless slog, until the 'breach' that the generals craved had finally been achieved at a horrific cost. At least for the coming week, Stenton's battalion, and rumour had it the whole 1st Cavalry Division, was relegated to duties in the rear such as guarding POWs and protecting the vital supply routes through which thousands of tonnes of fuel and ammunition were ferried to the frontline. The losses suffered while conducting the 'breakthrough’ were simply too devastating for the division to remain a fighting unit until replacements, probably draftees fresh from boot camp in Georgia, or perhaps retired soldiers called back to service, could be sent eastwards to boost its depleted ranks.
Emerging from the mist to the west, a pair of helicopters buzzed overhead. Stenton recognised them as Black Hawks - transports rather than gunships. Both aircraft bore the distinctive yellow insignia of the 1st Cavalry Division against the dark green backdrop of their airframes. Music followed the helicopters as they disappeared into the distance. Stenton recognised the drawling guitar strums of Credence Clearwater Revival. He'd heard the song before in a dozen different movies about his grandfather's war, a war of jungle heat and Vietcong ambushers hidden away in the undergrowth.
"Is that Fortunate Son?" A gawky, out-of-place teenager clad in battle-dress asked. The boy was sharing a smoke with the soldier beside him while the two of them glared at the POWs huddled on the grass.
"Man, its Vietnam music. We don't even get our own fuckin' music," Sanchez huffed. Stenton had heard the music was a ploy by the PSYOPs - psychological operations - people up at corps headquarters to confuse and terrorise the pockets of Russian troops scattered behind NATO lines until they surrendered. Judging by the occasional crackling of automatic gunfire and the deep booms of artillery in the distance, the ploy had yet to succeed. Smoke and cordite lingered in the air, a reminder that Second Squad’s battle had only yesterday come to an end, and that, for them, the war was far from over. Looking into the distance although it was shrouded in fog, Stenton knew there was a long way to go.
No military experience myself, fortunately, but sounds very likely to be accurate in terms of the sort of after-combat shock the survivors of such heavy fighting. The loss of so many comrades and bitter exhaustion muting any sense of victory. Also the anger about suspected attrocities, which are quote possible, and that it could easily have been an accident of friendly fire from allied artillery.
The music and Sanchez's reaction to it also sounds quite possible. Although I would hope their feeling very secure about their control of the areas else it seems bloody stupid advertising their presence in such a way. Especially for transport helos which I suspect are less well protected. If an isolated enemy has something stronger than personal weapons that could be costly.
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forcon
Lieutenant Commander
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Post by forcon on Feb 19, 2020 22:31:58 GMT
[/font] [/quote]
No military experience myself, fortunately, but sounds very likely to be accurate in terms of the sort of after-combat shock the survivors of such heavy fighting. The loss of so many comrades and bitter exhaustion muting any sense of victory. Also the anger about suspected attrocities, which are quote possible, and that it could easily have been an accident of friendly fire from allied artillery.
The music and Sanchez's reaction to it also sounds quite possible. Although I would hope their feeling very secure about their control of the areas else it seems bloody stupid advertising their presence in such a way. Especially for transport helos which I suspect are less well protected. If an isolated enemy has something stronger than personal weapons that could be costly.
[/quote] Thank you. I wanted to showcase the trauma and horror of what the characters have just experienced and emphasise just how young most of these guys are in the story - 18 year olds led by 22 years olds, basically- with all the violence and horror that they've just been through. A lot of the general ideas for the dialogue came from Generation Kill and Jarhead, as did the loudspeakers from the helicopters. In the latter film, the Marines were sitting in a burning oilfield, listening as their Huey's went over blasting rock music for the psychological effect. Whether or not O'reilly would really have shot the POWs or if he was just trying to vent his exhaustion, fear, anger, and absolute anguish at seeing many of his friends violently killed and killing enemy soldiers in combat himself, is for the reader to decide. |
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James G
Squadron vice admiral
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Post by James G on Feb 26, 2020 19:07:24 GMT
First contact between the Royal Marines and the Cat-fish which could fly
A solar system far away, a long time in the future
Humanity travelled through the stars. There were worlds to be explored, mined and colonised. Independently or in alliances, nation states on Earth have staked their claims out in the previously unknown. Through none of their travels has Mankind encountered life… until now.
From the Royal Space Force’s combat vessel HMV Queen Elizabeth III, a British behemoth full of weaponry, two small assault landing vessels were sent to conduct an on-site investigation of an unidentified ghost vessel within Solar System Albion. This was internationally recognised British territory and there was a right to challenge vessels which refused to respond to requests asking of nationality and purpose. There were Royal Marines within those assault craft. Piracy had been rampant recently – not just the British having this issue but Russia and the combined Europeans too – and hostile reactions often came. The probe first sent out from the Queen Elizabeth III had gone silent and vanished as if destroyed by an unseen weapon. That was an unfriendly act, a violation of the laws of space too. As to the vessel which the detachment of Royal Marines went towards, its shape and composition was something unrecognisable. It was thought that it was a hijacked vessel modified by pirates to disguise what it once had been. The Royal Marines inbound believed that they were about to give those pirates a tough lesson about what Britain did to hi-jackers.
No hostile response was made when the assault craft converged from ahead and behind of the drifting vessel. Quickly and efficiently, the Royal Marines were aboard. They made a forced entry and took control. At once, it became clear that this was a Russian freighter that had indeed been modified in physical terms and with its electronic systems. The vessel was empty of life yet blood and gore was present. There were no living pirates for the Royal Marines to fight. Whatever weapon had been used to silence the probe sent, fired by whom, wasn’t discovered. Intelligence specialists with the Royal Marines went to work. Smaller probes – autonomous drones with brains – were unleashed inside the vessel checking ahead of the Royal Marines. An ambush was feared but it was one that these Britons sought to discover first and overcome. Two-thirds of the Royal Marines hadn’t been born in Britain. They were space babies with a large percentage of them never having stepped foot on Earth either. They served their King out here in space though. For them, this was almost usual. If it wasn’t countering pirates, then their missions would be assaults upon rebels in colonies where law-and-order had broken down. Britain wasn’t much of an imperial power compared to others yet there were often conflicts on the worlds out here to be fought with the Royal Marines going into battle to maintain the international system of stability. They thought they could handle anything on this vessel.
They were wrong.
The probes aboard went silent. The Royal Marines’ own external communications back with the Queen Elizabeth III went down. Then, a noise was heard among the Royal Marines. It wasn’t human, it wasn’t mechanical nor electrical. It was something else. The sound wasn’t just coming through their ears: the men and women in uniform here could feel it in a mental sense. There was something very strange and frightening happening. The Royal Marines prepared themselves for a fight while slowly falling back towards their entrance points. This was a retreat, a withdrawal, a tactical retrograde movement: whatever it was deemed in military terms, they were backing off. The physical noise and the unnerving sensation which came with it forced them towards where they came. It was less intense there. However, they weren’t about to run away. The detachment commander concentrated his force into two groups. His Royal Marines were no exposed when longer spread out. He believed something was coming at them and firepower was needed.
One of the Royal Marines, a young woman, one of those space babies (conceived in space, never stepped foot on Earth etc.) saw It first. She called It a Cat-fish, one that could fly. That was what It looked like to her. Towards her It came, with fang-like sort-of teeth and a menace in the three sort-of eyes It had. Her fellow Royal Marines saw It too. Their officer shouted an order to open fire and no one hesitated. Shooting It was clearly the best idea as It came across as hostile in every way when tearing through a passageway towards them: It was hunting for food by the look of It. The weaponry that the Royal Marines had stopped It. Yet, there was no death for It. It vanished, like It had never been there.
When back in the assault craft, the communications with the Queen Elizabeth III began working again. Signals broadcast from inside the ghost vessel were still not functioning but they were now from out of those assault craft that the Royal Marines went into. The commander knew that if he was an American or Russian, he’d be in trouble for backing out like this. The US Marines and Russian Space Infantry had reputations that the Royal Marines didn’t have… yet those came on the backs of a lot of dead marines. The Royal Marines did things differently and thus lived to tell the tale. They weapons had stopped It but not killed It. That Cat-fish which could fly, which could well have eaten those aboard it seemed, was yielding an unknown force cutting communications and downing probes back there.
The retreat notwithstanding, the assault craft stayed attached to the ghost vessel. These Royal Marines which had just met hostile alien life were soon to be joined by more of their number bringing the ‘big guns’. This encounter wasn’t over. Humanity had shot first but wanted to find out just what they had been engaging.
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on Feb 26, 2020 19:23:32 GMT
First contact between the Royal Marines and the Cat-fish which could flyA solar system far away, a long time in the future
Humanity travelled through the stars. There were worlds to be explored, mined and colonised. Independently or in alliances, nation states on Earth have staked their claims out in the previously unknown. Through none of their travels has Mankind encountered life… until now. From the Royal Space Force’s combat vessel HMV Queen Elizabeth III, a British behemoth full of weaponry, two small assault landing vessels were sent to conduct an on-site investigation of an unidentified ghost vessel within Solar System Albion. This was internationally recognised British territory and there was a right to challenge vessels which refused to respond to requests asking of nationality and purpose. There were Royal Marines within those assault craft. Piracy had been rampant recently – not just the British having this issue but Russia and the combined Europeans too – and hostile reactions often came. The probe first sent out from the Queen Elizabeth III had gone silent and vanished as if destroyed by an unseen weapon. That was an unfriendly act, a violation of the laws of space too. As to the vessel which the detachment of Royal Marines went towards, its shape and composition was something unrecognisable. It was thought that it was a hijacked vessel modified by pirates to disguise what it once had been. The Royal Marines inbound believed that they were about to give those pirates a tough lesson about what Britain did to hi-jackers. No hostile response was made when the assault craft converged from ahead and behind of the drifting vessel. Quickly and efficiently, the Royal Marines were aboard. They made a forced entry and took control. At once, it became clear that this was a Russian freighter that had indeed been modified in physical terms and with its electronic systems. The vessel was empty of life yet blood and gore was present. There were no living pirates for the Royal Marines to fight. Whatever weapon had been used to silence the probe sent, fired by whom, wasn’t discovered. Intelligence specialists with the Royal Marines went to work. Smaller probes – autonomous drones with brains – were unleashed inside the vessel checking ahead of the Royal Marines. An ambush was feared but it was one that these Britons sought to discover first and overcome. Two-thirds of the Royal Marines hadn’t been born in Britain. They were space babies with a large percentage of them never having stepped foot on Earth either. They served their King out here in space though. For them, this was almost usual. If it wasn’t countering pirates, then their missions would be assaults upon rebels in colonies where law-and-order had broken down. Britain wasn’t much of an imperial power compared to others yet there were often conflicts on the worlds out here to be fought with the Royal Marines going into battle to maintain the international system of stability. They thought they could handle anything on this vessel. They were wrong. The probes aboard went silent. The Royal Marines’ own external communications back with the Queen Elizabeth III went down. Then, a noise was heard among the Royal Marines. It wasn’t human, it wasn’t mechanical nor electrical. It was something else. The sound wasn’t just coming through their ears: the men and women in uniform here could feel it in a mental sense. There was something very strange and frightening happening. The Royal Marines prepared themselves for a fight while slowly falling back towards their entrance points. This was a retreat, a withdrawal, a tactical retrograde movement: whatever it was deemed in military terms, they were backing off. The physical noise and the unnerving sensation which came with it forced them towards where they came. It was less intense there. However, they weren’t about to run away. The detachment commander concentrated his force into two groups. His Royal Marines were no exposed when longer spread out. He believed something was coming at them and firepower was needed. One of the Royal Marines, a young woman, one of those space babies (conceived in space, never stepped foot on Earth etc.) saw It first. She called It a Cat-fish, one that could fly. That was what It looked like to her. Towards her It came, with fang-like sort-of teeth and a menace in the three sort-of eyes It had. Her fellow Royal Marines saw It too. Their officer shouted an order to open fire and no one hesitated. Shooting It was clearly the best idea as It came across as hostile in every way when tearing through a passageway towards them: It was hunting for food by the look of It. The weaponry that the Royal Marines had stopped It. Yet, there was no death for It. It vanished, like It had never been there. When back in the assault craft, the communications with the Queen Elizabeth III began working again. Signals broadcast from inside the ghost vessel were still not functioning but they were now from out of those assault craft that the Royal Marines went into. The commander knew that if he was an American or Russian, he’d be in trouble for backing out like this. The US Marines and Russian Space Infantry had reputations that the Royal Marines didn’t have… yet those came on the backs of a lot of dead marines. The Royal Marines did things differently and thus lived to tell the tale. They weapons had stopped It but not killed It. That Cat-fish which could fly, which could well have eaten those aboard it seemed, was yielding an unknown force cutting communications and downing probes back there. The retreat notwithstanding, the assault craft stayed attached to the ghost vessel. These Royal Marines which had just met hostile alien life were soon to be joined by more of their number bringing the ‘big guns’. This encounter wasn’t over. Humanity had shot first but wanted to find out just what they had been engaging. Nice it could fit in my Rule Britannia 22,000 i once created, you only need to change the name of the Queen Elizabeth III to something else and the Royal Marines become the Royals Space Marines and it fits right into it. |
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James G
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Post by James G on Feb 26, 2020 19:34:03 GMT
First contact between the Royal Marines and the Cat-fish which could flyA solar system far away, a long time in the future
Humanity travelled through the stars. There were worlds to be explored, mined and colonised. Independently or in alliances, nation states on Earth have staked their claims out in the previously unknown. Through none of their travels has Mankind encountered life… until now. From the Royal Space Force’s combat vessel HMV Queen Elizabeth III, a British behemoth full of weaponry, two small assault landing vessels were sent to conduct an on-site investigation of an unidentified ghost vessel within Solar System Albion. This was internationally recognised British territory and there was a right to challenge vessels which refused to respond to requests asking of nationality and purpose. There were Royal Marines within those assault craft. Piracy had been rampant recently – not just the British having this issue but Russia and the combined Europeans too – and hostile reactions often came. The probe first sent out from the Queen Elizabeth III had gone silent and vanished as if destroyed by an unseen weapon. That was an unfriendly act, a violation of the laws of space too. As to the vessel which the detachment of Royal Marines went towards, its shape and composition was something unrecognisable. It was thought that it was a hijacked vessel modified by pirates to disguise what it once had been. The Royal Marines inbound believed that they were about to give those pirates a tough lesson about what Britain did to hi-jackers. No hostile response was made when the assault craft converged from ahead and behind of the drifting vessel. Quickly and efficiently, the Royal Marines were aboard. They made a forced entry and took control. At once, it became clear that this was a Russian freighter that had indeed been modified in physical terms and with its electronic systems. The vessel was empty of life yet blood and gore was present. There were no living pirates for the Royal Marines to fight. Whatever weapon had been used to silence the probe sent, fired by whom, wasn’t discovered. Intelligence specialists with the Royal Marines went to work. Smaller probes – autonomous drones with brains – were unleashed inside the vessel checking ahead of the Royal Marines. An ambush was feared but it was one that these Britons sought to discover first and overcome. Two-thirds of the Royal Marines hadn’t been born in Britain. They were space babies with a large percentage of them never having stepped foot on Earth either. They served their King out here in space though. For them, this was almost usual. If it wasn’t countering pirates, then their missions would be assaults upon rebels in colonies where law-and-order had broken down. Britain wasn’t much of an imperial power compared to others yet there were often conflicts on the worlds out here to be fought with the Royal Marines going into battle to maintain the international system of stability. They thought they could handle anything on this vessel. They were wrong. The probes aboard went silent. The Royal Marines’ own external communications back with the Queen Elizabeth III went down. Then, a noise was heard among the Royal Marines. It wasn’t human, it wasn’t mechanical nor electrical. It was something else. The sound wasn’t just coming through their ears: the men and women in uniform here could feel it in a mental sense. There was something very strange and frightening happening. The Royal Marines prepared themselves for a fight while slowly falling back towards their entrance points. This was a retreat, a withdrawal, a tactical retrograde movement: whatever it was deemed in military terms, they were backing off. The physical noise and the unnerving sensation which came with it forced them towards where they came. It was less intense there. However, they weren’t about to run away. The detachment commander concentrated his force into two groups. His Royal Marines were no exposed when longer spread out. He believed something was coming at them and firepower was needed. One of the Royal Marines, a young woman, one of those space babies (conceived in space, never stepped foot on Earth etc.) saw It first. She called It a Cat-fish, one that could fly. That was what It looked like to her. Towards her It came, with fang-like sort-of teeth and a menace in the three sort-of eyes It had. Her fellow Royal Marines saw It too. Their officer shouted an order to open fire and no one hesitated. Shooting It was clearly the best idea as It came across as hostile in every way when tearing through a passageway towards them: It was hunting for food by the look of It. The weaponry that the Royal Marines had stopped It. Yet, there was no death for It. It vanished, like It had never been there. When back in the assault craft, the communications with the Queen Elizabeth III began working again. Signals broadcast from inside the ghost vessel were still not functioning but they were now from out of those assault craft that the Royal Marines went into. The commander knew that if he was an American or Russian, he’d be in trouble for backing out like this. The US Marines and Russian Space Infantry had reputations that the Royal Marines didn’t have… yet those came on the backs of a lot of dead marines. The Royal Marines did things differently and thus lived to tell the tale. They weapons had stopped It but not killed It. That Cat-fish which could fly, which could well have eaten those aboard it seemed, was yielding an unknown force cutting communications and downing probes back there. The retreat notwithstanding, the assault craft stayed attached to the ghost vessel. These Royal Marines which had just met hostile alien life were soon to be joined by more of their number bringing the ‘big guns’. This encounter wasn’t over. Humanity had shot first but wanted to find out just what they had been engaging. Nice it could fit in my Rule Britannia 22,000 i once created, you only need to change the name of the Queen Elizabeth III to something else and the Royal Marines become the Royals Space Marines and it fits right into it. I remember reading of the Immortal Queen! |
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lordroel
Administrator
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Post by lordroel on Feb 26, 2020 19:48:02 GMT
Nice it could fit in my Rule Britannia 22,000 i once created, you only need to change the name of the Queen Elizabeth III to something else and the Royal Marines become the Royals Space Marines and it fits right into it. I remember reading of the Immortal Queen! Well your mine TL is better, but still fitting in the universe of Rule Britannia 22,000. |
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James G
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Post by James G on Feb 27, 2020 19:51:27 GMT
My flash fiction pieces are usually 1000 words long. Tonight I went for 2000.
Apologies to forcon for stepping on his patch: Iran wars. I hope he can forgive me.Curbstomp War: Iran–vs.–AmericaThe military forces of Iran and the United States clash in the Persian Gulf. Each side takes casualties in a shooting incident. Each side blame the other for attacking them first, denying the other’s claims of aggression. Each side shows no sign of backing down from this. War fears engulf the region but also the wider world too. The possibility of full-blown conflict brings forth proclamations of the beginning of a bigger, global conflict: World War Three is spoken of. Iranian military capabilities in such a war are spoken of – by those who should have known better but have a willing audience – as being capable of challenging the world’s one true hyperpower. Perhaps Iran buys into that foolishness itself yet so do many politicians in the West as well. In the Pentagon, they have no such doubts about the zero chance Iran has to oppose what is coming. The American president, in the midst of scandal and possible impeachment, feels she needs a foreign war to starve off seeing her presidency being brought down domestically. A foreign war would do her good, she reasons, as long as it is one won in the right way. An excuse is found when Iran makes threatening gestures. This is made use of to make war on Iran, one which is sold as justifiable and legitimate. That war is over with in less than forty-eight hours. Iran gets curbstomped. It is mightily unfair. Yet when war is fair, then it really isn’t war. Opening the attack with everything at its disposal, the United States launches a shock & awe strike on Iran. Bombs and missiles crash into Iran as well as Iranian forces deployed in neighbouring Iraq. Iran can do nothing to stop this. Its air defences are neutralised by Project Fairy Tales, a secret Pentagon doctrine long in the works. Into Iran’s air defence network, a ‘false sky’ picture is fed. Israel did this to Syria in 2007 but the Americans, as is their way, do this on a bigger scale. The air defence network is penetrated at ground level with a technician plugging a flash drive into a USB port. This takes place in an anonymous facility without any drama. The Iranian national involved knows what he is doing and escapes from the incident undetected. Iran’s air defence radars start to see all sorts of strange things when the Americans attack. They are all linked together with multiple redundant links to keep them working. They are fed lies, a fairy tale. There are empty skies, there are impossibly full skies. Their radar screens show obvious lies as well as subtle ones. Different operators at varied locations see images that aren’t the same as what others see. Hostiles are reported as friendlies and vice versa. The interlinked radar system has been fatally compromised. It is rebooted and when restarted, for a few minutes looks like it might work properly… before it all goes crazy again. The Iranians turn it off. Individual Iranian military assets have their own radars. There were local air defence units with SAMs. Fighters climbing into the sky have their radars not compromised by the fairy tale directly. However, the damage is already done. When they meet the initial attack, before the false sky façade is revealed, the Iranians have exposed many of their SAM systems and sent their fighters into the direction that the Americans want to see them go. Now, the ambush is sprung. AWACS aircraft direct stealth interceptors towards airborne targets: F-22s wrack up immense kill rates. Iran has filled the sky with fighters and down towards the ground they now crash. SAM sites are targeted by inbound missiles fired from F-15Es and F-35. Some operators switch off their active systems in fear of attack but the missiles coming at them dive to the last reported position and strike home. Project Fairy Tales is a stunning success. Iran does have air defences left after this but they are few and far between without any trust in their systems remaining. The Americans bomb Iran’s nuclear facilities. Buried and supposedly hidden, there is nothing that Iran ca do to stop their destruction. B-2 bombers appear overhead and drop earth-penetrating munitions. These smash through the defences and blow apart what is inside. Two separate strikes are used on each target: no chance is taken on any surviving. Tehran is left without power and telecommunications. Bombs aren’t used to see Iran’s capital in darkness and without any internet connection. Instead, it is aluminium foil released from well-targeted canister dispersers. The work which would take to restore this would be longer and more difficult than if conventional explosives had been used. Drones criss-cross Iranian skies. These are attack models carrying deployable weapons. They start killing people. High-profile Iranian military and political figures lose their lives. It is a massacre and will leave a ‘brain drain’ afterwards. Iran’s ballistic missile force take hard kills. Clever the Iranians have long been with manufacturing and also making these systems mobile. Looking down onto Iran are many satellites though and there are stand-off reconnaissance aircraft monitoring the mobile missile force too. Furthermore, people on the ground have their eyes open too. Iran manages to get a couple of missiles off the ground and flying southwards but a whole load of others are destroyed before they can fly. Bombs and missiles from American aircraft in Iranian skies yet also firing from some distance away do much of this work. So too do a pair of submarines in the Indian Ocean. Several years past, a quartet of former strategic missile boats, those with Trident SLBMs, had been converted to carry more than one hundred and fifty cruise missiles each. The submarines in position unleash an immense barrage of almost all of their missiles at once to target Iran’s own missile force. The US Navy doesn’t want to be left out of what the US Air Force is doing to Iran. Iran has no ballistic missile force left after this. Iran’s military forces have been forward deployed into the Persian Gulf and Iraq with orders to lash out once the shooting starts. They are supposed to make the war costly for the United States and force the Americans to back off once world opinion comes into play. In launching this war, America’s president showed how much of a fig she gives for world opinion. Those forward forces come under attack. Ships and submarines are sunk at sea or in port. Airbases and coastal missile sites which threaten the Gulf were blasted to ruin. Over in Iraq, without the permission of the Iraqis to operate inside their country, the Americans attack Iranian troops and missile units there. There is a brigade of tanks & armoured vehicles on the move at the time of the opening attack. From above, F-16s and then F-18s come in on the attack dropping anti-armour cluster munitions. Each explosive bomblet is individually guided by its own millimetre-wave radar and crashes through the top of all of that armour. Those in the way of this don’t stand a chance. That brigade is now in ruin. Likewise, where tactical missile units are found, they are attacked with drones. A few get off some shots, attacking neighbouring countries in the American camp – ones which didn’t want this war either – but the effect is near negligible. The United States has missile defences which the Iranians could only dream of acquiring themselves. The first night of the war dooms Iran. They will face attacks after this though the Americans have completed their shock & awe and what comes next is less intense. Bombs and missiles still hit Iran but it wasn’t almost everything thrown in at once now. The United States attacks signs of life from Iranian military units. The country is swamped with surveillance looking for aircraft preparing to take off from airbases, missiles moving into launch positions and armoured units leaving garrisons. When spotted, the attacks come in hard. The assassinations continue too. Those stepping up to fill dead men’s shoes are taken down. The Americans are listening to the Iranians trying to organise themselves and use that against them. The attacks move to Iran’s military industry. It is a thriving concern. Iran manufactures a lot of military gear which it doesn’t buy from aboard. Using brute force hacking where necessary, yet at the same time given ways in through openings exposed through many years of espionage, Iran’s own communications are used against them here. Pretend warnings from the state are given to factories to evacuate ahead of an attack. Workers flow out and in come bombs. There were civilian casualties in spite of attempts like this to stop that but this is considered collateral damage. What it brings with it is panic, uncontrollable panic that the Iranians can’t control. Their people are in quite the state of alarm. This serves American interests. Iran’s security forces attack civilians, bringing waves of internal outrage as well as supplying the United States with images that it can use for its propaganda war. That is one being waged at home. The American president had told the Pentagon to do all it must to take out Iran as a threat short of an invasion. That outcome isn’t desired but all the long-standing war plans apart from them have been put into play when it comes to attacking Iran. At home, the American people see a hostile nation, who has attacked them, getting the full treatment of all that their own country’s armed forces can muster while simultaneously being ravaged by internal conflict. Iran’s leader addresses his people in a broadcast from the city of Qom. Qom hasn’t been attacked like Tehran. He feels safe there, believing that the Americans just wouldn’t dare strike in Qom due to the religious status of it. He makes his last mistake here. Midway through his broadcast threats of an eternal holy war where vengeance against America will be tenfold etc., Qom is bombed with targeted strikes from unmolested aircraft. He is killed in this attack, assassinated in quite the dramatic fashion for all the world to see. From certain quarters of the world, there is outrage at this. They celebrate back in America. A man who was their enemy, who declared war on them, is killed by American military might. Iran’s remaining capable military forces take a final battering from above in the follow-up to this killing. Explosions are nationwide. There is nowhere for them to hide. The regular military as well as the Revolutionary Guard are being hit in a relentless fashion. Nothing Iran does can stop this. There are some surviving politicians who decide that now is the time to act. The madman who led them is dead and their enemy is someone who is showing she has no limits to the war she is waging. False intelligence has come that the United States will soon be invading. All that talk from foreign commenters and from out of the mouths of (now dead) Iranian political & military figures about Iran being able to stop this, or make it impossible for the casualty-averse United States to do, now looks utterly foolish. Iran can’t defend itself and the country is open to an invasion. A meeting takes place, one in a bunker among frightened men who fear a bomb coming down through the concrete above their heads. They give in. Iran requests a ceasefire. The Curbstomp War is over. Iran has been faked out in so many ways, tricked in how they attempted to fight and then into believing there would be American boots on the ground. The United States emerges victorious. Other foreign enemies are going to have many sleepless nights after witnessing this. No one else is going to raise their head above the parapet in the face of the world’s lone hyperpower prepared to do this to Iran and seemingly anyone else who wants to dare to challenge them.
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forcon
Lieutenant Commander
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Post by forcon on Feb 27, 2020 21:53:36 GMT
Good work there. The use of present rather than past tense was well done.
I like the Fairy Tales project. Cery good stuff. I would think Iran has learned from the mistakes of Iraq in 1991 to use plenty of decoys and false targets and to hide their SAMs and missile sites very well, but here the Pentagon outsmarted them. This is a good use of a realistic hidden weapons system using such hypothetical systems is always interesting and should be done more often in modern TLs such as this.
Edit: this sort of curb stomp will really scare Moscow and Beijing. They will be procuring S-500s and EW gear like crazy after this.
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stevep
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Post by stevep on Feb 28, 2020 12:37:58 GMT
Good work there. The use of present rather than past tense was well done. I like the Fairy Tales project. Cery good stuff. I would think Iran has learned from the mistakes of Iraq in 1991 to use plenty of decoys and false targets and to hide their SAMs and missile sites very well, but here the Pentagon outsmarted them. This is a good use of a realistic hidden weapons system using such hypothetical systems is always interesting and should be done more often in modern TLs such as this. Edit: this sort of curb stomp will really scare Moscow and Beijing. They will be procuring S-500s and EW gear like crazy after this.
That last point is the issue. It makes the US look too awesome for its own good possibly. Some will fear the US riding rough-shod over any contrary opinion while future potential opponents will look towards was of both negating such advantages and also alternative ways of waging 'war' against the US, which isn't as stupid as the mad dog approach of Iran. There is also the issue of nuclear powers, especially China and Russia but possibly also others, fearing that their nuclear capacity will be neutralised so you could see a revival of launch on warning.
Not saying its not a big victory for the US, as it is militarily. Possibly also politically and diplomatically depending on how it handles the post-war situation. However actions breed reactions so others will seek ways to protect themselves against future conflict with the US. In some cases this will be to establish better relations with the US, in others they will also look for different approaches.
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James G
Squadron vice admiral
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Post by James G on Feb 28, 2020 16:35:15 GMT
Good work there. The use of present rather than past tense was well done. I like the Fairy Tales project. Cery good stuff. I would think Iran has learned from the mistakes of Iraq in 1991 to use plenty of decoys and false targets and to hide their SAMs and missile sites very well, but here the Pentagon outsmarted them. This is a good use of a realistic hidden weapons system using such hypothetical systems is always interesting and should be done more often in modern TLs such as this. Edit: this sort of curb stomp will really scare Moscow and Beijing. They will be procuring S-500s and EW gear like crazy after this. Thank you. I changed it from past to current midday through - had to go back and edit tense changes several times - to make it more interesting. I read before about Israel doing it on a smaller scale thirteen years back and believe the US would do the same thing. The Syrians in 2007 were hit by an attack on their radars coming from airborne platforms but I assume to get at Iranians, someone would have to do it on the ground. I agree with Iran hiding things, but then last month when Iran used its SRBMs, the US knew long in advance: they spent the day refuelling them. In this piece, Iran is under attack and is trying to use them. They are out and above with the US uses drones / satellites / SOF to see them to attack. However, this is a US wank so I gave the Americans everything they needed to win.
That last point is the issue. It makes the US look too awesome for its own good possibly. Some will fear the US riding rough-shod over any contrary opinion while future potential opponents will look towards was of both negating such advantages and also alternative ways of waging 'war' against the US, which isn't as stupid as the mad dog approach of Iran. There is also the issue of nuclear powers, especially China and Russia but possibly also others, fearing that their nuclear capacity will be neutralised so you could see a revival of launch on warning.
Not saying its not a big victory for the US, as it is militarily. Possibly also politically and diplomatically depending on how it handles the post-war situation. However actions breed reactions so others will seek ways to protect themselves against future conflict with the US. In some cases this will be to establish better relations with the US, in others they will also look for different approaches.
Yep, I gave the US every chance of winning. It reflects a lot of my own views that Iran's military is just a paper tiger though. I could be wrong but I think the US would tear them apart with ease... as long as there was the political will to do that as shown with the US president here not giving a damn about what others say. Launch on warning is very dangerous for any nation but I suspect you are correct that following anything like this, other countries would bring that back. Iran getting taken down like this would cause those reactions, positive and negative, certainly! |
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stevep
Fleet admiral
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Post by stevep on Feb 28, 2020 18:39:39 GMT
Good work there. The use of present rather than past tense was well done. I like the Fairy Tales project. Cery good stuff. I would think Iran has learned from the mistakes of Iraq in 1991 to use plenty of decoys and false targets and to hide their SAMs and missile sites very well, but here the Pentagon outsmarted them. This is a good use of a realistic hidden weapons system using such hypothetical systems is always interesting and should be done more often in modern TLs such as this. Edit: this sort of curb stomp will really scare Moscow and Beijing. They will be procuring S-500s and EW gear like crazy after this. Thank you. I changed it from past to current midday through - had to go back and edit tense changes several times - to make it more interesting. I read before about Israel doing it on a smaller scale thirteen years back and believe the US would do the same thing. The Syrians in 2007 were hit by an attack on their radars coming from airborne platforms but I assume to get at Iranians, someone would have to do it on the ground. I agree with Iran hiding things, but then last month when Iran used its SRBMs, the US knew long in advance: they spent the day refuelling them. In this piece, Iran is under attack and is trying to use them. They are out and above with the US uses drones / satellites / SOF to see them to attack. However, this is a US wank so I gave the Americans everything they needed to win.
That last point is the issue. It makes the US look too awesome for its own good possibly. Some will fear the US riding rough-shod over any contrary opinion while future potential opponents will look towards was of both negating such advantages and also alternative ways of waging 'war' against the US, which isn't as stupid as the mad dog approach of Iran. There is also the issue of nuclear powers, especially China and Russia but possibly also others, fearing that their nuclear capacity will be neutralised so you could see a revival of launch on warning.
Not saying its not a big victory for the US, as it is militarily. Possibly also politically and diplomatically depending on how it handles the post-war situation. However actions breed reactions so others will seek ways to protect themselves against future conflict with the US. In some cases this will be to establish better relations with the US, in others they will also look for different approaches.
Yep, I gave the US every chance of winning. It reflects a lot of my own views that Iran's military is just a paper tiger though. I could be wrong but I think the US would tear them apart with ease... as long as there was the political will to do that as shown with the US president here not giving a damn about what others say. Launch on warning is very dangerous for any nation but I suspect you are correct that following anything like this, other countries would bring that back. Iran getting taken down like this would cause those reactions, positive and negative, certainly!
I would say Iran is a paper tiger to the US if: a) You can avoid it attacking important allies or interests of the US.
b) You don't sent land forces into Iran itself. This latter was probably the most important decision the US made. If there had been a land invasion then even if initially it seemed to go well and the US was able to establish a friendly government it could still well end up badly as many Iranians would see them as occupiers and you would be likely to end up with a mess like Iraq but a lot larger.
Steve
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James G
Squadron vice admiral
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Post by James G on Feb 29, 2020 14:34:37 GMT
Thank you. I changed it from past to current midday through - had to go back and edit tense changes several times - to make it more interesting. I read before about Israel doing it on a smaller scale thirteen years back and believe the US would do the same thing. The Syrians in 2007 were hit by an attack on their radars coming from airborne platforms but I assume to get at Iranians, someone would have to do it on the ground. I agree with Iran hiding things, but then last month when Iran used its SRBMs, the US knew long in advance: they spent the day refuelling them. In this piece, Iran is under attack and is trying to use them. They are out and above with the US uses drones / satellites / SOF to see them to attack. However, this is a US wank so I gave the Americans everything they needed to win. Yep, I gave the US every chance of winning. It reflects a lot of my own views that Iran's military is just a paper tiger though. I could be wrong but I think the US would tear them apart with ease... as long as there was the political will to do that as shown with the US president here not giving a damn about what others say. Launch on warning is very dangerous for any nation but I suspect you are correct that following anything like this, other countries would bring that back. Iran getting taken down like this would cause those reactions, positive and negative, certainly!
I would say Iran is a paper tiger to the US if: a) You can avoid it attacking important allies or interests of the US.
b) You don't sent land forces into Iran itself. This latter was probably the most important decision the US made. If there had been a land invasion then even if initially it seemed to go well and the US was able to establish a friendly government it could still well end up badly as many Iranians would see them as occupiers and you would be likely to end up with a mess like Iraq but a lot larger.
Steve
Forcon did the consequences of a land invasion in Holiday in Tehran. It would be bloody! |
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James G
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Post by James G on Feb 29, 2020 14:36:55 GMT
Fraternal assistance: WarPac in Afghanistan
The request for fraternal assistance was made in late 1983. By the following summer, as per the wishes of the Soviet Union, troops from their Warsaw Pact allies begun arriving in Afghanistan to join the Limited Contingent of Soviet Forces. There was no real military need for those from Eastern Europe who arrived to be in Afghanistan. The Soviets had the manpower, the equipment and the capabilities to do what they asked their allies for. This was all about politics. Warsaw Pact countries would do their Internationalist Duty too, hopefully muting some of the criticism towards what was undesirably called the ‘Soviet-Afghan War’. For those men sent to Afghanistan from WarPac countries, their experiences of the war were unwelcome and unpleasant.
Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, East Germany and Poland deployed forces to Afghanistan. The Soviet’s WarPac allies of Hungary and Romania did not. Mongolia, neither a WarPac member nor an Eastern European nation, at one point was preparing to send a detachment too but that decision was reversed – at Moscow’s direction – just ahead of the transfer of men.
Among the Bulgarian contingent were their Spetsnaz. Parachute-rolled special forces in Bulgarian service had a history going back to the Twenties with the 68th Parachute–Reconnaissance Regiment being formed in ’75. They were a fine unit, as good as Soviet Spetsnaz. Half of the regiment was sent to Afghanistan. They fought independent operations as well as ones alongside the Soviets and Afghan Government forces too. Given plentiful freedom to operate, these Bulgarians won platitudes and respect for their service. That was among their allies. To those on the receiving end of what they could do, there was only hatred. Afghan rebels and innocent civilians alike who had encounters with the Bulgarian Spetsnaz didn’t fare well. Bulgarian motor rifle troops – a battalion here, a battalion there – also saw service in the country and they suffered losses in physical terms as well as collapses in morale. Desertion rates were high… in a land where it wasn’t a good idea to run away. Unlike the special forces soldiers, it was all together an inglorious fight that the majority of Bulgarians had here.
The Czechoslovaks sent troops and aircraft to Afghanistan. Within the air contingent was a regiment of Sukhoi-25 attack-fighters. These Frogfoots joined with Soviet Su-25s. The mission was forward air support and the well-protected jets were involved in the thick of the fighting. Only a couple of aircraft were lost during the war due to enemy action when in flying – rebels launching missiles at them – yet a good few others were destroyed on the ground when their base was assaulted during the second year of the Czechoslovak Frogfoots being in-country. On one occasion, in early ’87, a pilot tried to defect and fly his jet to Pakistan. He was shot down by a Soviet MiG-23 in what Western intelligence experts would call a red-on-red engagement. Czechoslovak soldiers (less than a regiment, split up among Soviet forces) fought and died on the ground, mainly operating in the western portions of Afghanistan. More than a hundred of them wouldn’t return home alive.
The East German Army, the Nationale Volksarmee, made the biggest ground contribution from WarPac countries to Afghanistan. They formed and deployed a brand-new regiment, the 20th Motor Rifle, as part of their fraternal assistance. This was almost brigade-size and a complete combined arms unit capable of independent actions. However, the Soviets kept it under their overall control with the 20th Regiment moving from service within one of their divisions to another through the years in-country. Tanks, armoured personnel carriers, self-propelled artillery and even helicopters were operated by these East Germans far from home. Deployed in the early years through the north before moving to Afghanistan’s capital to be seen on the streets of Kabul, they faced less intensive fighting that they might well have should they had been elsewhere. Still, losses were taken with deaths and injuries recorded. There were many political officers from the PHV with the 20th Regiment while overt and covert Stasi operatives were also there. The scale of this presence was out of proportion to those of other WarPac contingents. Desertion rates were exceptionally low. Much effort was made to control what stories East German soldiers would tell when they got home at the end of their individual deployments too.
Polish forces sent to Afghanistan were small, far fewer than they could have sent. This was all about politics. The Soviets didn’t trust the Poles following events in the early Eighties. There was domestic trouble at home for the Poles too when it came to sending men off to fight in Afghanistan. Deployed were only single battalions of infantry – one at a time for just a year – whose soldiers were specifically chosen for their political reliability. There were also aviation detachments of squadron-size including Mil-24 Hind attack helicopters. The Hinds performed well. The Poles certainly knew how to fly them to the best of their capabilities. Some concerns were expressed about the non-conformist attitudes of the flight crews when in the air and when this was ‘corrected’ to meet politically defined ‘norms’, the success rate of the Hinds dipped spectacularly. Before, the Polish-crewed Hinds were reportedly feared by Afghan rebels yet afterwards they weren’t. In a military sense, this was an own goal of quite the proportion but it must be remembered that bringing WarPac forces to Afghanistan was never about military goals: it was all politics. Polish attack helicopters killing less rebels than before didn’t matter overall in the geo-politics of the war in Afghanistan.
In mid-’88, when the first Soviet withdraws began from Afghanistan, those forces of their allies began pulling out. The Poles then the Czechoslovaks left that year. Early the next year, the East Germans left and then, finally, only days before the Soviet’s General Gromov was officially the last man out, the Bulgarian Spetsnaz also departed too.
The fraternal assistance from Eastern European countries ended. Almost five hundred lives had been lost.
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